Well, I ain't gonna lie to you... This is a real bad day for you, Kieran Duffy.

`Ain't that right.ยด the man sadly thought while tied inside a barely standing barn on a snowy mountain and surrounded by nonfriendly fellers. The wooden walls rattled, and the whole building groaned with every passing breeze. The prisoner sniffled, having quietly cried over his situation. He didn't want to die. Not in any painful, slow way.

These folks were no different from the O'Driscoll gang, making horrible threats with smiling faces. Kieran was ready to tell them everything, the truth and only the truth, though it wouldn't be much that he knew. He had only run with the gang for couple of months. He was the runt, taking care of horses, nothing special. He didn't know any secrets, as Colm didn't talk to him. Unless to yell at or beat him. With a pitiful whimper, Kieran tried straightening up, being tied to a wooden pillar. His legs were aching from constant standing with no end. He should have just kept on riding when he left the camp. Get off this mountain and go somewhere where there aren't people chasing and wanting to hurt him. He wishes he had never crossed paths with the Boys, forced to join them.
He couldn't even imagine what these fellers will do to him. He was scared.

The only solace he had was being among horses. The familiar smells and sounds comforted him, bringing back memories from better days. When he was a kid, he dreamed of owning a horse ranch. Raising and training mounts. Maybe even giving the last good home to old and injured ones that nobody wanted any more. That's pretty much what has always wanted to do, but instead he was pushed into situations that just didn't work for him. Guess the horse ranch dream wouldn't come true, huh? Just his rotten luck...
Hearing the nervous snorting and movement of the animals, Kieran lifted his head. It's dark inside the barn. The pale moonlight, seeping through cracks in the walls, barely illuminates anything. He makes out the moving silhouettes of the horses. Their restlessness easily rubs on him, and he's quiet as a mouse. The human part, the logical side, tries to reassure that there's nothing in here. Just Kieran and the horses. No one had come through the front doors that were guarded from the outside.
He's alone.
Right?
While nervously looking around, he almost misses one of the barn's windows. Its wooden shutters are open, slightly swaying and letting in more light. Maybe it had been a wind? More on edge, Kieran sees movement that doesn't belong to a horse. He also hears faint sounds, murmurs, that seem to wander among the animals that calm down one by one. Some horses start crunching on something, and Kieran knows he isn't alone after all.
"He- Hello?" he almost whispers, too afraid to speak normally. He tries to think of who it could be. One of his kidnappers? Or, or perhaps one of the O'Driscolls had come to save him? He had told that man in the blue jacket that they would come and save Kieran but that had been more spit than real talk.
He really didn't believe anyone would come for him.

However, it's not an O'Driscoll whose shadowy figure stalks from between the horses.

Kieran not even sure if it's a human because of the horns. It approaches, covered in fur and hunching on two legs. He can only stare in horror. He can't even yell for the guard. Every word climbing up his throat is strangled into silence. Despite being cold, he's sweating and breathing shallowly while trying to understand what he's seeing.
When the humanlike creature pulls out a knife, it's steel flashing for a moment in the light, he snaps out of it.
"Ho- Hol-!"
His head is slammed against the pillar, and he almost bites his tongue when his chin is pushed up. The sharp edge of a blade touches his Adam's apple, and his blinking eyes tear up. He tries not to breathe too deeply. The hand with long fingers that are digging into his cheeks feels wrinkly and smells like a dead animal.
"Not loud," it says to him, in a soft voice, like a human. Kieran makes a hasty sound of understanding.
The hand retreats, but the knife doesn't, and so the man stays motionless.
"Where's Colm?"
In fear and frustration, the slim man whimpers: "I- I- Don't know, I swear." Once he finally gets his voice, he can't stop blabbering: "I really don't know the gang jus- Just a horse boy. I- I mean-"
He quiets down as the blade bites into his skin. He shuts his eyes. His mind is sent like a frightened hare with a blur of curses and prayers.

The doors of the barn are kicked open. "What the hell?" The blade leaves Kieran's neck.
There's shouting, gunfire and the horses are panicking. Kieran stays still with his eyes tightly closed.

"I'm telling you, it was no human!" Bill kept on insisting, desperately wanting others to believe him, as he sat on a chair with a mug. He gulped down the rest of his drink, which was a mix of tea and whisky. It was to calm his nerves, but now Dutch wonders had that been a good idea. The ex-military man doesn't make sense with the portrayal of the creature that had snuck into the barn and then escaped from Bill, who had barged in. Humanlike with horns, a furry body and glowing eyes. Like the devil himself!
The O'Driscoll had described the creature in the same way, but you should never trust an O'Driscoll unless you want a bullet in your back.
"Now, Bill, we ain't saying we don't believe you." Hosea tries to reassure the ex-soldier: "Maybe there's a more... Reasonable explanation for this."

Than some monster bothering them in the middle of nowhere in the middle of a night.

Jumping onto his feet Bill looks furious. He opens his mouth probably to yell, as he always does when feeling belittled, but something makes him close it. Maybe it was the way Dutch, Hosea and Arthur looked at him. Like some retarded idiot who was seeing things. He was relieving the emotions that he felt when accused back in the military of... Things. Then he was dishonorably discharged, like everything he had done for this damn country was nothing.
"I'm not crazy," the large man growls, slams the mug onto a table, and stomps towards the door.
"Get some rest, Bill," Dutch says, commanding kindly. "We'll figure this out, together."
Standing with his hand on the door, the man curtly nods before leaving.

Left alone in one of the four buildings, the three figureheads of the Van der Linde gang mull over the situation. Dutch and Hosea do most of the outward thinking, tossing around theories and arguments. Arthur is mostly quiet, letting the wise men do the thinking.

Who could the mystery visitor be? An O'Driscoll? It didn't seem like their type of strategy, all subtle and quiet. Though they, the Van der Linde gang, did shoot a lot of the Boys down at the Ewing Basin. It was a couple of days ago. It could be possible that a handful were still around. If not due to the unrelenting cold and wind that was keeping everyone inside for warmth and shelter.
Pinkerton? Now that's more likely, as the gang was running away from the law after what happened back in Blackwater.
But dressed up in such a strange way, if there was to believe what Bill and their prisoner had told? Not very Pinkerton; the agents are more of a bunch of pompous jesters who like to look all official.
Bounty hunter? That seemed like the right answer. You never know what kind of people are coming after your head.

"But he, they, asked for Colm," Dutch pointed out, with a lighted cigar between his fingers.
"...Maybe they want to score big," Hosea thinks out loud, leaning back in his chair. "Take both gangs in, but if it's just one person..."

Unless there were more bounty hunters, and this one had been just a scout? Possible, everything started to feel possible as they tried to think of an explanation.

Javier comes in. He, along with other able-bodied men, had swept the nearby area for any more intruders. They didn't find anyone, and the tracks just kept on moving away from the settlement. They turned back after a certain point, as it's too dark outside and it was too dangerous to go following someone in unfamiliar terrain. The tracker is commended and sent away.

"I'll go look in the morning," Arthur says, as frustrated as the others. "Take Javier with me. Maybe even Bill, to identify this mysterious horned beast of his."
Everyone chuckles, easily covering their worries. They had lost a lot of people lately. Too many. They had lost most of their possessions and all the money at Blackwater. Now they were threatened by starvation, pursuers, and a stranger who knew where they were.
They can't panic now; Dutch reminds them. They have come this far and lost many; they can't let it all be for nothing. They'll survive through this; he's sure of that.

Arthur tries to believe Dutch, his other father figure, like always. He tries, but there's that nagging feeling that worms around with a sliver of doubt. A feeling of something ending slowly but surely. The world has changed since the glory days when he was a young kid and was found by these two pops. They too have changed, and- Arthur stops himself right there. He's just worried, like everyone else. He just needs to trust Hosea and Dutch.

In the morning, it seems Arthur is going alone with Bill. Javier was stuck on guard duty for the rest of the night because Micah hadn't come to release him. Damn blond-haired, mustached idiot! Even though Javier says he can still go, it's clear the Mexican is tired and not fairing well in this environment.
"I'll come."
Arthur turns to face Charles, who's a tall and burly man. A very capable tracker, hunter, fighter... The man with African and Native parents is a lot of things. But also injured at the moment. "Nah, you stay and res-"
"If you tell me to rest, again..." Charles gives a pointy look that doesn't scare Arthur, who mockingly raises his hands. Charles has maybe been with them only for a couple of months, but he's not an idiot with a temperament. Arthur respects him and trusts Charles' evaluation of his own injuries. It was just a burned hand, but Arthur was concerned for one of their skilled members. "Well, okay then," he agrees and puts down his hands.

Arthur, Charles and Bill get on their horses and start following the footprints from last night. Nobody talks much, the air is too chilly, and their minds are on the unknown enemy.

The wind is calm today, with snow gently falling down and even the sun peeking from behind clouds. Maybe the weather is finally changing for the better. The snowing, though, means that the tracks are threatened to disappear. Charles does his best not to loose them. The horses manage in the deep snow, where the tracks are luckily easy to see. Until they end at the edge of a cliff.
The men are confused, looking around, but there's nothing else to follow. Arthur finally says: "They jumped?"
"Good riddance," Bill mutters.
Charles is quiet, thinking. He gets off his horse, Taima, and goes to the edge.
"Be careful," Arthur warns, keeping an eye on the man who carefully peers down.
"There's a ledge," Charles explains, pulling down the scarf around his face. "Not a deep drop." He sees how the stranger scaled down the cliff. He also figures out a way for them to get down before returning to his mare. "This way."

At the bottom, the footprints turn into the hoofprints of a horse.

"You're gonna say now it's a shape-shifter?" Arthur teases red-faced Bill, who barks defenses.

Following the new tracks through snow, they end up at a shallow river. The rider must have tried to hide their trace because there aren't any foot or hoof prints on the other side. The men split into two different directions to see where the person had gotten out of the running river: Arthur with Bill and Charles alone. There wasn't much forest up here in the mountains. Instead, there were lots of steep cliffs, treacherous chasms, and frozen bodies of water, all hidden by snow. If the stranger knew the area, Charles doubted there was any chance to find them. It would be better to make a trap for this so-called-shape-shifter.
`Maybe we're looking for nunnehi?` the man amused himself.

Hearing gunfire from the direction of others as well as a roaring bear, Charles urged Taima into galloping. Arriving at the scene, he found bloody Bill crawling from under a dead bear and his horse further away. Arthur, on the other hand... The gunslinger, with his new horse, had run to a frozen, snow-covered lake and fallen through the ice. Seeing that the ex-soldier was in less danger, Charles passed him and went towards the lake.
The horse was panicking, struggling to get out, and breaking the hole's edges with its kicking front hooves. Arthur wasn't fairing any better, trying to get his upper body onto the ice but keeping on slipping back.
"Arthur!"
Stopping Taima Charles grabbed a rope, turning it into a lasso, and tried the ice. First step. It was holding. Second. Holding. Third, fourth, fifth... It seemed the ice was firm enough to carry his weight. "Arthur, catch!" Throwing the lasso, he hoped for the other to catch it, but it was difficult for the panicking horse and the man, who was already half-frozen. Charles needed to get closer, but the ice was more cracked towards the hole. He doubted it would carry him. Fuck!

Arthur managed to take out his hunting knife with stiffened, glow-covered fingers. Stabbing the ice with it, he used it to stop himself from slipping under the water. His clothes were drenched and heavy. His body felt like it was being poked with a million needles, and his movements were sluggish. Under the dread and focus to get out of the water, he was thinking of his family. Worried what would happen to them if he died now. His horse roaring and screaming next to him was heartbreaking to listen to, and he was unable to help it.

"Charles!" Bill shouted from afar, getting on his mount, "Behind you!"

Turning around, Charles saw the horned creature approaching.