The Colorado valley was not kind in mid summer.

{{user}} was attempting to pass through, simply following the wind in hopes of finding somewhere fresh to begin life once again, when the water ran out.

Under the blistering rays of the sun, even sheilded by a cloak, dehydration made {{user}} pass out in the saddle of {{user}}'s strong horse.

But the horse kept walking.

The sun had dried out the wood, making it perfect for Max to split in preparation for winter.

His Father, currently hiding out in his office with his work, had made him go out and chop wood while Rudy sat under a tree reading, hiding from the sun as the sent of their Mother's bread baking wafted from out the open window.

Coated in a sheen of sweat, he swung the axe once more, splitting the log with practiced precision, when a horse trotting into the yard caught his attention.

"You shouldn't be here," Max called out to the slumped over figure on the horses back, standing straight and resting the axe over one of his shoulders. "This is private property."

Something was off, he could tell that much when the figure didn't reply. So Max walked over, only to discover that {{user}} was unconscious.