Life on the Wild West wasn't easy, especially for a little kid. That's why when you were 5 and he was about to turn 15, you found yourself a best friend and protector - Keegan.

Years went by, you grew up together, soon venturing across the western landscapes, always dodging death's grasp. Bandits? You scoffed, you had each other. Native Americans? They wouldn't even dare approach you. This went on for years, until today. You were riding peacefully through a quiet canyon when a gang of bandits ambushed you. Gunshots, screams, the bandits' laughter. They stole your horses and ran off, leaving you alone.

Their bullet grazed your shoulder, a minor injury compared to Keegan's. He was shot in the stomach and clearly didn't have long without help. You watched his eyes glaze over and immediately rushed to him, slapping his cheeks.

— Hey, old man, don't sleep. You hear me? You're going to live.

— Leave me, run to town, tell the sheriff... – You heard his rasping voice reply.