Welcome my friend to the rewriting of my story. There were a lot of things I didn't like in the old one, some inconsistencies, some mistakes, so I've chosen to concentrate my efforts a little more on it and make it better. If you're new to this, welcome, I hope to be worthy of your precious time.

Valentine. Sheep and mud. Curious how they can call it a city.
The high chimneys that spit their black smoke towards the sky; the stink of sewer that fills the nostrils; the noise of trains and stagecoaches that swarms the air together with the voices of thousands of people.
Here, there is nothing like that. Here, they have no idea of what a city is and people are much different than in one of those big urban conglomerates: they are kinder and simpler, or at least that's the first impression they have given me; they seem to live without many demands, day after day, they help one another, and they are friendly even with people who are, like me, new to the surroundings.
There are some flaws in it of course. The wide street that goes through the various shops and bureaus is covered in mud, which is marked with the wheels of stagecoaches and horses's hooves, and this is a terrible flaw because… I've never liked mud, even though I think I've got used to it after many years spent in a ranch.
And moreover, Valentine people's conversations are kind of boring: I swear, I've been here for almost a week and I've heard the same things again and again. I guess they don't have much to talk about.
Since I'm here, I've kind of created my own routine. Every morning I go to the city stable where I take care of my horse and those they keep there for the sale. I take no money from the horse keeper, so he won't ask me anything for keeping there my Isabella: an appaloosa of dark brown coat with a black and white spotted back. It's called barter.
Then, I sit outside on one of the numerous benches with the "city old men", chatting, making myself known and trying to appear kind and friendly, but not anyone likes me: apparently women with trousers are frowned upon even here in the "West".
At noon, I reach the saloon where the barman, who has become like a sort of friend to me, gives me something to eat and I keep myself busy helping him with the serving and cleaning.
Like this, I've spent days here, but still I have no news. No one's heard a thing about a group of people that left Blackwater and that could buzz around. And now, I'm doubtful. Yet, they have to pass through here if they're going east. I'm quite sure they can't go west, but if they moved through the north, they can be everywhere by now.
Wait. That's all I can do. Wait and hope and think of a plan B just in case they won't show up in the next few weeks.

Another day has passed. I wander in the streets, greeting the citizens and, between an argument and the other, I ask them if they've seen some new faces around.
The answer is yes, new faces have appeared in the surroundings, but for them it isn't something odd because Valentine is a place of transition from the west to the east and vice versa. Quite a bummer, right?
I'm outside the hotel seated near two elders who are talking lively about taxes, when I see three man at horseback passing right in front of me. Two have dark hair and skin - one seems a South American and one a Native - and the last one is white with brown hair and beard. New faces, but nothing familiar. I only know three of the gang members, those I've seen on the posters in Blackwater, those with the biggest bounties on their heads.
The three stop the horses in front of the saloon and get down slowly. They exchange a few words and give a few looks around, and then two of them go inside the saloon while the one with the long beard keeps walking down the street.
I have my eyes fixed on them when I hear someone call my name. It's the stable groom. Distractedly, I get to him. He has to prepare a horse for being sold and he wants some help.
"I'll take care of it" I say with a hint of a smile to the buyer.
I put myself to work, but my mind is still fixed on the newcomers. They could be simple passersby or they could be part of the group I'm looking for. Just to be sure of it, when I finish with this horse, I'll go to the saloon and ask Lloyd, the barman, to keep and eye on them and, if he has the chance, to eavesdrop their conversations.
I put the saddle on the horse's back, checking up strings and straps, when the sound on an incoming wagon makes me look up with curiosity. Maybe some other customer? But I'm surprised to see three girls, all about my age, together with an old man and… another man who looks rather familiar.
Opening my satchel, I take the three posters I took in Blackwater and check them until I find the one I need: Arthur Morgan, the picture is incredibly similar, with the short hair and beard, the broad shoulders, but definitely taller than I expected.
And there it is, that familiar weight pushing on my stomach that shows up every time I turn nervous, even though I have no idea why I feel nervous right now. I was calm until some time ago, almost impatient at the idea of finally having found them.
I follow them with the eyes, trying to memorize their aspect as they scatter, and being careful not to lose sight of Mr. Morgan who enters the general store with the old man. As soon as they disappear inside, I address the stable groom.
"Can you prepare my horse?"
"Are you leaving?" he frowns.
"I hope so."
If I'm lucky, this is my last day in this shitty town.
Getting to the hotel, I climb the stairs two by two, fast walk the corridor and enter my room. I start packing my things, but with the weight on my stomach more and more pressing, almost mutating into a rock pressing against my lungs, I have to stop.
Okay, this is too much.
I let the sack I'm holding fall to the ground and then close my eyes and inhale deeply a couple of times. The weight is still there, but I'm slowly regaining control of my body.
I've waited so long for this moment, so why, why am I scared to finally meet them? Maybe because they're criminals? The same kind of people who took everything away from me? But now, I have nothing left to lose, only to gain.
Downstairs, I give the key of the room to the man behind the counter.
"It was a pleasure to host you" he says with a polite smile.
I smile back and open the front door just of an inch to peek outside. Mr. Morgan and his friend are seated outside the general store, chatting and with a bottle of liquor in their hands. I surely can't go out now or they'll see me and I don't want that to happen before than necessary.
"I think I'll use the back door" I say to the host heading to the back of the building.
I cross the road where I can't be seen and at the stable I find Isabella saddled up and ready to go. I load my things, take the reins, thank the horse keeper and lead Isabella out from the back of the stable, leaving her in a strategic position. As soon as I see them going away, I'll mount up and follow them as discretely as possible.
"Stay here" I whisper to Isabella tying her at the stake.
Then, going around buildings and walking little desert alleys, I reach one of the benches on the main street that gives me a perfect view on Mr. Morgan and the other man, not too far from them but not too exposed.
After a couple of minutes, the two of them lower their hats on their eyes.

I don't have to wait much for something interesting to happen. Barely one hour later one of the girls who came here with them wakes them up. I quickly put away my revolver, which I took out to polish, and fix my eyes on them. The fact that I can't hear a thing from where I am unnerves me.
"I said come here!"
When I look at the man who pronounced the words, my heart loses a beat. He's one of the Foreman brothers, member of the infamous Foreman gang.
He is chasing another one of the girls who arrived with Morgan and as soon as he catches her, he drags her in one of the little alleys, walking right in front of me.
"Get off me!" she screams as I look at them disappear completely among the buildings.
In the distance, Mr. Morgan notices them too and he stands to follow them.
The alley they walked into is in the same direction as the bench I'm seated on, and while he walks, Morgan's gaze finds my eyes and I jump on my place quickly turning around and pretending indifference.
My heart starts beating fast as the fear of being uncovered flows inside me. It could need only a look, just a quick encounter of the eyes to understand someone is watching you, spying you, and I deeply hope this wasn't the case.
When I finally hear his steps walking away and he disappears inside the alley, I find the courage to turn around and sigh in relief.
That could have been a disaster.
"Uncle! Look after her. I'mma go see about Karen at the hotel" shouts Morgan to the other side of the street as soon as he comes back, followed by the girl.
I'm really curious to know how he disposed of the Foreman, but for nothing on earth I want to lose sight of them, so it's better for me now to stay put.
She crosses the street and reaches the others while he walks through that door I entered so many times in the last week.
I patiently wait for he to come back and in the meantime I study the three figures in the distance murmuring worried words between them and gazing nervously around. It also gives me the impression that some of those looks are addressed to me.
The thought that I might have been uncovered paralyzes me and suddenly I don't dare to move a muscle. If my idea is right, every movement might alert them.
The door of the hotel opens up and the third girl walks out followed by Mr. Morgan.
That's it, now they should go back to the place they are holed up.
But this thought doesn't have the time to leave my mind that something else happens: as soon as the group is reunited, a man at horseback shows up, shouting at the top of his voice that he's sure to have seen Morgan in Blackwater.
"Me? No. Impossible. Listen, buddy. Come here for a minute" he says approaching the man with a menacing look.
I lean forward on the bench and bring a hand to my holster as the situation alarms all my senses. Whatever his intentions are, I won't allow him to hurt an innocent.
But there is no need for my intervention. The man makes his horse turn around and runs away as fast as he can.
Morgan does the same, mounting on the first horse he sees in the street and chasing the poor fool.
I have no time for reaction, no time for thinking, the only emotion which is capable to break the surface of my astonishment is the feeling that I've lost a golden opportunity.
I frown looking at the girls and the old man in the distance.
What's my next move? I could follow the wagon, but the risk the girls seated in the back could see me is too high. I could follow Morgan, track him down, but I've never been a good huntress and follow a horse I have no idea of where it has gone isn't easy.
I take a deep sigh and just look at the wagon as it disappears around the corner, resigned at the idea there is nothing more I can do for now.
I stand up and head to where I've left Isabella, ready to bring my things back at the hotel. I just hope they will come back tomorrow, or maybe the next day.
Taking Isabella's reins, I've almost leaded her back to the stable, when a sound of hooves in the mud right beside me makes me turn and the image of Mr. Morgan on the "borrowed" horse walks past me, stopping at the saloon and getting inside.
I become aware that the shock has frozen me and returning into possession of my faculties I run to leave Isabella nearby before reaching the back door of the saloon.
I can't believe my luck! I expected everything but seeing him coming back, at least not after all that has just happened.
I open the door, walk the short corridor and there they are. Morgan is at the bar together with the two men I've seen walk inside less than two hours ago, and I can't help but feeling a little proud of myself for having thought they could be part of the gang, because in the end it was true.
The three of them are talking with Anastasia and Diana, two working girl who frequent the saloon to find customers and that I have renamed Anastasia and Drizella due to their physical resemblance to Cinderella's evil stepsisters. Apparently, Mr. Morgan says something rude because the girls leave with an outraged expression on their faces.
What comes next, I'm not able to fully understand. The saloon door opens with a bang and the third man of the Van der Linde gang comes inside. He bumps into another customer, the two raise their voices, push each other and a fight starts.
It all happens so fast that my mind hasn't the time to process it and giving a fast glance at the bodies that start to collapse one against the other, I turn around and walk out from where I've come.
The fresh air helps me understand what I've just witnessed. It seems they've just arrived and they are causing a lot of troubles already. Poor Lloyd who will have to clean all the mess after them.
Shaking my head, I walk around the building and reach my beloved bench on the other side of the street.
I have barely touched the seat that I see Morgan fly out of the window. Right after, Tommy, the saloon owner, a man as big as stupid, comes out shouting: "come on, pretty boy!" To which Morgan replies an angry: "Pretty boy? You're kidding me? Pretty boy?"
All the scene could seem comic, if immediately after they hadn't started beating each other furiously in the middle of the street.
Tommy is well known for being maybe the biggest man here in Valentine, but Morgan seems to have experience. Who knows how many times he's done this.
Their brawl catches the attention of almost the entire town and people start to gather around them. I have my eyes fixed on them when they get covered, and even if I try to move on the bench to catch something, it's impossible for me to see them now. I can just hear the sound of punches and kicks and the unmistakable sticky sound of mud being stomped.
It's a scream that puts an end to everything.
"Stop! Stop! Please!"
I know that voice. It is Mr. Downes', a poor devil who preaches for kindness and asks for money at the corner between the stable and the new house they are building.
As the show ends and the tens of indiscreet eyes move away, Morgan and Downes exchange a few words, nothing I'm able to hear of course, and then Mr. Morgan pushes the poor man roughly aside and stumbles away. Downes helps Tommy to stand, or at least he tries. He doesn't look good and neither does Morgan.
"Making new friends again I see, Arthur!"
I dart my eyes left and right on the street until I see the two men I hadn't seen before due to the crowd. One is a tall classy guy with a top hat and a mustache, the other one…
I can't believe it!
I move on the bench as both excitement and a strong anxiety flow inside my body.
It's Dutch Van der Linde, the gang boss!
The other three men come out of the saloon and, when they start talking, I feel the urgent need to stand up and reach them, hear what they are talking about, sure that they could have some useful information.
I'm eaten alive by the curiosity, but yet I don't dare lift my ass from this bench, scared at the idea that I still don't know how they would react to my presence and to what I want to tell them.
They all leave except Mr. Morgan, who finds a barrel where he washes from the mud.
Just like a monkey from the box, I stand and run to reach Isabella, taking advantage of his distraction. My legs are unstable, my heart is hammering and my heavy head makes me feel like inside a bubble of soap.
I wait for Morgan to mount on his horse and I follow him, keeping a good distance not to be noticed. I'll try to find out where their hideout is.

He finally slows up, sign that we have reached said hideout. I get down Isabella and hide the both of us as I can behind some bushes.
I don't want to be seen yet, I'll just make sure the rest of the group is in there and camp nearby, planning a way to make the introductions.
He looks around suspiciously, just like he's aware that someone is following him, and then he enters the little wood on the road edge.
I wait a little before walking closer, making sure there is no-one around and that no-one comes out of the wood and finds me standing here. Then, I make my way through the thick trees and branches, pulling Isabella from the reins.
There is a clearing and some tents, at least a dozen, and a lot of people. I have to be caref...
"Who's there?"
Panic. A sudden panic makes me freeze for a couple of seconds before I can realize what's happening.
Shit! I should have known they would put someone on watch.
I move my eyes among the tangle of bark and leaves, trying to understand where the voice comes from.
"I-I…"
At my stutter, the man comes out from behind a tree and even before I understand he's pointing a rifle towards me, I notice he's the same man who started the bar fight at the Smithfield.
I don't know what to do except slowly raise my hands up in the air.
"I don't want to cause any trouble" I say and my voice is shaking slightly because of the extreme stress I'm subjected.
"Come closer!"
"Alright, alright."
I take a few steps forward, slowly, studying his face and his attitude. He's not ugly and he hasn't a mean gaze, but surely he looks a little angry, and maybe a little dumb?
"Who the hell are you?" he growls.
I gulp. That little saliva that I still have in my mouth is blocked halfway in my throat by a knot.
"Name's Fred. I'm here to talk to Mr. Van der Linde."
His expression changes: the brow, first furrowed in a mean way, now slightly relaxes, his mouth opens a little and his eyes start moving across my body, watching me form head to toe, and in the end he points at my revolver.
Yes, this could be a problem.
"I don't want to do anything bad, I swear" I say.
"I just want to talk with Van der Linde."
"Give me your gun" he orders reaching out a hand.
Just how I feared, he wants me unarmed. I take a step backwards and frown.
"Hey, don't do anything stupid" he says bringing his hand again to the rifle to aim better.
Thinking about where I'm going, I don't feel comfortable at all in giving him my only way to protect myself, but at the same time I know he won't ever allow me to walk inside the camp with a weapon, even less let me go away now that I've found them.
Slowly, I reach for my gun and hand it to him. He takes it, puts down the rifle and with a nod tells me to follow him. I take Isabella's reins before do as I'm asked.
My first impression was right: there are a lot of people in this camp, and also a lot of women, which is unusual. I've met Jack Hall's man during my journey, I've met O'Driscolls, but they were all exclusively men.
So, it seems the voices are true.
While I follow the big man who's stolen my gun, I notice that the people become aware of my presence and start gathering around me. It gives me the same feeling as I walked inside a cave full of wolves ready to dine on me. It's not pleasant.
Among them, I recognize the last man of the posters: Hosea Matthews. He is one of the first that approaches me.
"Stay" I order to Isabella and then I take the last couple of steps, entering the circle of wolves.
I suddenly have more than two dozens of eyes on me. Amazed, suspicious and hostile looks, eyes of people who live a life of crime and fear. And among them…
Mr. Van der Linde pushes one of his men aside and enters the circle to face me, Mr. Morgan right after him.
"I told you someone was following me" murmurs the latter.
So, he knew I was coming. Well, it certainly doesn't look good for me.
In spite of the amount of nervousness increasing second after second, I try with all my strength to keep a serious and calm appearance, but it's not easy at all: my breath is short, my mouth is dry, my stomach is so twisted I'm afraid of getting sick every moment now.
"Were you looking for us, girl?" asks Van der Linde.
His voice is tough and distrustful, just as I imagined, and he cannot be blamed. He doesn't know me, and I don't know him.
"I was, actually. My name's Friedrich Faraday, but they call me Fred."
They all wait for me to add something, but instead I stretch out a hand. Maybe is stupid, maybe is useless, but I'm incapable to control my body properly and the gesture comes to me naturally.
Mr. Van der Linde fixes his suspicious eyes on me, and I try to smile at him, but I'm too nervous and the forceful expression of confidence I have to keep makes my lips tremble.
"German name" he remarks.
"German mother" I reply out of breath.
In the end, he takes my hand and shakes it.
Even if I can't show it, I am a little relieved. It still isn't the end of it, though. Now I have to convince them.
"Well, you found us. But why bother so much? Are you interested in the bounty on our heads?" he inquires.
"No, no, quite the contrary, Mister. I want to work for you."
"And why is that?"
"Well, you know, voices get around, and I've heard about you and your gang."
My eyes move among the other members of the group, all deeply staring at me.
"They say you're not like the others. That you have principles, rules, that you're not just criminals, more like a family."
"This is, my dear, exact. But, why a good girl like you should want to be part of a gang of outlaws?"
Good. The word makes me smile. Funny how people who know nothing about you can say completely wrong things.
I move my eyes on the ground and scoff.
"Mr. Van der Linde, not to offend you, but you don't know me. To answer your question: let's say that recently I've lost my place in the world. I don't know what to do anymore or where to go. I've found out that cities are not for me and that life in the country, when you're a girl and you're alone, it's not safe. I've heard about you and I looked for you. I've been in Blackwater, by the way. Everybody is talking about you down there. And it seems they took one of you. He's name is Sean, right?"
"It seems that you know more about us than we know about you. But tell me, why should I take you with me? How do I know that you're not working for the government?"
"I-I…well I have no idea how to help you with that. But if you take me with you, I can guarantee, I will make myself useful."
When silence falls, I make a great effort and look at him right in the eye. He seems curious. Amid all that diffidence there is the curiosity to know who I am and what I can do. But, even though I want to believe he's not going to shoot me, there'a a part of me still scared that he could, and suddenly bearing his gaze is not so easy.
I can't look away, I can't or he'll think I'm lying.
"Miss Grimshaw, can you find a place for this girl, please?"
His words cause a turmoil inside me: I'm surprised by his fast decision, I'm relieved he's not going to kill me and I'm excited for what is about to happen.
I'm doing this, the last thing I've ever thought I would do: I'm entering a gang of outlaws, probably against all my interests.
I look at this Miss Grimshaw, a more or less fifty years old woman with a proud gaze, and the weight of worry that was pushing on my chest since I don't know when, suddenly vanishes.
"Follow me Miss. We'll find you something" says Miss Grimshaw.
I do as to follow the woman, still not fully believing what I'm experiencing, when I become aware there is something I'm forgetting about.
"Oh! Err, can I have my gun back?" I ask to the man who received me at the beginning.
He turns to Van der Linde who nods in consent, and only then he passes it to me.
The crowd scatters and people go back to their work while Miss Grimshaw and I take a tour of the camp piking up blankets, pegs, hammer and wires. There is a place dedicated to the kitchen, a cart with medicines and ammunitions and many tents, some big and comfortable, others little and roughly put together.
About half an hour after I'm assembling my little tent. I decide to place it near the horses, in the most external part of the camp, away from ears and eyes. When I finish it, I take my things from Isabella and place them inside.
I take a step back… et voilà. Home sweet home.
Sleeping on the ground won't be easy, but it could be worse.
The sky above me is slowly turning dark, the sun is low on the distant mountains and after days… days? No. After weeks, months of doubt, I finally feel the load on my back lifted of a little. I've made my first step towards justice, now all the rest.
I take a moment to sigh deeply, capturing all the different smells of the place. Finally something that doesn't smell like sheep shit.
"Miss Faraday, if you're done, Dutch would like to speak with you."
The man's voice makes me turn around. Hosea Matthews is walking towards me.
"Mr. Matthews" I say watching him.
"It surprises me that you know us. And that you knew you could have found us in Valentine."
I can't help but notice the tone he's using with me is much different than the one of Mr. Van der Linde. He talks calmly and there is no trace in his voice of mistrust, maybe only a little curiosity.
Useless to say, he makes me feel like I can trust him and I decide to speak openly. After all, there is nothing to hide on this subject.
"Finding you wasn't difficult. I just had to go to Blackwater and follow your movements from there. It was impossible that you were heading west because it's there that your troubles started. So, it had to be north or east. For the other question…"
I put a hand inside my satchel and pull out the three posters, giving them to him.
"At the beginning we were going North, yes" he says watching the pictures.
"We climbed the mountains, but then we had to move because of the O'Driscolls. Do you know them?"
"I've heard something" I reply starting to walk towards the rest of the camp and looking for Van der Linde's tent.
"How can it be that a young woman like you decides to join a group o criminals? Don't you have a family? A home?" asks Mr. Matthews, coming after me.
How many times must they ask the same question? Every time, everyone, wants to know what I'm doing out here alone, and I'm sure they ask only because I'm a woman, because if I was a man, no-one would care.
I decide to answer with the same three words I use with everybody.
"No, I'm alone."
I feel his eyes on the back of my head, but I try not to pay attention to it. One day, they'll probably force me to answer, but not now. It's still too soon.
"Dutch's tent is there, by the way. Oh, and Arthur's there, so you can meet him too" he changes topic and walks past me, leading the way.
Mr. Van der Linde and Mr. Morgan are murmuring between them. The first is leaning against one of the poles of his tent, the second is seated on a chair right near him, his forearms on his knees.
"Well, well, there she is! Did you make yourself some new friends?" asked Van der Linde turning in my direction and smiling at me.
"Not yet. But I'll meet them soon" I reply smiling in turn.
I move my eyes on Morgan on my right and notice he's watching me in a strange way. He knew I was following him, maybe he also knew I was watching them in town, and he let himself being followed all the same. I wonder why.
The idea that all this is nothing but a trap I'm falling in, sneaks inside my head.
"No doubt, but now it's time to explain to you how things work here. There are three rules that you have to follow if you want to live with us" says Van der Linde.
I immediately sense the change of attitude and some tension is generated between the four of us.
"Number one: everybody makes his part, so start working. Help Miss Grimshaw with the organization. Bring supplies for Mr. Pearson, our cook. If you know how to hunt, bring some game, it will be useful. I see you've got a gun. Do you know how to use it?"
"Sure."
"Good, we'll need it. Number two: all the money you take from a job has to be equally parted, half you, half the gang. You'll put your part in this box" he says leaning a hand on a dark little box next to him.
"Number three…"
He looks right at me and I stare back, feeling he's about to say something I'm not going to like.
"Who betrays me, pays with the life."
The eyes of the three men burn on me and the tension now makes all my muscles tense up. I try not to move, not to blink, not to breathe. If there is something I really don't want to do in front of them, is showing my insecure part.
"I wouldn't expect nothing less."
"Good."
As soon as his eyes leave mine, I feel free to relax again.
"Now that we've settled it, tell me… you've mentioned Sean and Blackwater. Another of my men gave me this same information. What do you know about it?" he inquires.
"Only that they keep him locked up and they want to move him as fast as possible."
"This means we have to rescue him immediately" says Mr. Matthews.
"It won't be easy. You're wanted in all the West Elisabeth and Blackwater is covered with pictures of you all" I explain.
"We'll find a way. Charles and Javier are already heading there" says Morgan.
"Great. Arthur, first thing tomorrow you join them. And bring Miss Faraday with you. We'll see if it's true that she can use that revolver" orders Van der Linde.

The cart with the supplies is full of cans and jars of different colors and shapes, fresh fruit and vegetables are everywhere around, a deer is hanged upside down and a man is working on it.
"You are Mr. Pearson, aren't you?" I ask.
"The very same. And, you are Fred, aren't you?" he replies with a broad smile and an unnecessary loud voice.
"The very same."
"How can I help you?"
"No Mister, how can I help you? I have some experience in the kitchen and if you need anything, just ask me."
"Alright then. I prepare the stew every day at noon. If you have some free time you can help Mrs. Adler with the vegetables."
With his thumb, he points to a woman behind him, busy washing some dishes. Blonde, average height, on her thirties, she glimpses at me for one second, just one, but that's the time I need to catch her sad eyes.
"Okay, I think we'll see each other soon" I say with another smile before moving away.
I approach the boiling pot on the fire peeking curiously inside. The boiling red slime smells good, I hope the taste is too.
I turn around, plate in hand, and the shape of a man tied to a tree makes it's appearance. His contour stands against the light of the sunset, half bended on himself. How can I not have seen him before?
"And, who are you?" I ask walking closer.
He keeps his head down without looking at me even when I speak. It looks like he doesn't care about anything anymore.
"Kieran" he mumbles.
"Why are you tied here?"
"Cause I'm a prisoner."
"I see that, but why?"
"I was part of another gang. And these fellers don't like the other fellers, so…"
"Which gang?"
Now he rises his eyes on me, clear and full of terror.
"Don't worry, I don't want to hurt you. I'm just curious" I reassure him.
"O'Driscoll" he whispers.
"Uhm... I understand. Why don't you tell them what they want?"
"I tell them what they want, and then what? They'll kill me" he whines.
"Well, you don't know that" I reply.
He lets out a moan and lowers his head again. I keep staring at him feeling sorry and wondering if I wouldn't be in his same situation if Van der Linde hadn't liked me. It must be awful to be tied day and night.
"Do you want something? Water, some stew?"
"They don't allow me to eat. But some water would be great. One of the girls brings it often."
"I'll be right back, then."
I bring him some water and say goodnight.
"Thank you. For the water and the company. I missed talking with someone so kind" he says gratefully.
"Don't mention it."
The camp is pitch dark but for the two camp fires and the oil lamps inside some of the tents. Almost all the people are eating and chatting and only a few walk around alone.
The place gives me a new feeling, something I haven't been sensing in a long time. Peace. Security. Both of them I would have never thought to experience at this time, and in a place like this, surrounded by these people.
A neigh from my left makes me turn in that direction. They surely have more horses than I thought.
I walk near them to say goodnight to my Isabella, petting her dark coat that blends with the wood behind her while several memories come back to me and I smile to myself.
She is all that's left me, my last connection with a life that, now, it feels like I lived centuries ago.

Sooo, this was the first chapter. Just an introduction, a little rushed I'm aware of that, but I couldn't find a better way to write it because for most of the time she's just a distant witness of what happens.

Anyway, I hope I caught your attention with it ;)