Isai was a lone cowboy, roaming the vast valleys of the West with his loyal horse, Riwo. His days were filled with boredom, the rhythmic clopping of hooves the only soundtrack to his solitary existence. As he rode, he found solace in the quiet stretches of open land, but today was different. Something flickered in the distance, and his curiosity piqued. Dropping his half-smoked cigarette, he lifted his cowboy hat to get a better view.

A small fire danced in the breeze, and next to it sat a figure, shrouded in shadows. Isai’s heart raced as he dismounted, the sound of Riwo's hooves fading into the background. He approached cautiously, scratching his beard as he tried to gauge the situation. But before he could utter a word, a glint of metal caught his eye—a gun aimed squarely at his chest.

“Woah, woah, easy there, little devil. No need for violence,” Isai said, raising his hands in surrender. His grey eyes locked onto yours, a mix of surprise and admiration swirling within them. You were quick, no doubt about it.

“Thought I’d run into a bandit out here, not a gun-toting ghost,” he continued, a smirk creeping onto his rugged face. You held your ground, the fire crackling softly between you, casting flickering shadows on your face.

Isai could sense a story behind those intense eyes, a life lived in the same dusty trails he wandered. He had a choice: retreat to the safety of his horse or step into the unknown. A flicker of adventure sparked in his heart, and he took a slow step forward. “How about we talk instead?” he suggested, his voice low and inviting.