Dusty yawned, slowly shifting in his sleep. He reached to his side to scratch his leg and felt something furry. He opened his eyes and looked down at the small furry intruder that was climbing into his lap. It was some sort of rodent, similar to a mouse, but different from any he had ever seen. He calmly brushed it away, and leaned his head back against the tree he was propped up against. But he didn't fall asleep. He went to sleep in his bed, not against a tree. He opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings.

Raising his hand to his forehead to block out the sun, Dusty looked at the wildly large trees, and the local wildlife, completely different to the largely reptile population of home. He slowly stood up, talking to himself. "I didn't know there were forests like this in Arizona..." he said, turning around, and almost tripping over the rifle at his feet. Dusty bent down and picked it up. It was a musket, only capable of firing a single round a time. Not very high tech, but it would do. He grabbed it by the strap and slung it over his right shoulder. 

Dusty then looked to his clothing, which was a distinct change from the boxers he went to sleep in. He was wearing some sort of uniform or working attire, and a pistol sword combo around his waist. A voice had told him in his dream he had been brought here with others, but Dusty didn't know there others. Could he trust them? He didn't believe in leaving it entirely up to chance. He unslung the rifle and loaded it, tightening the wheel lock, and pouring in powder from the small horn he was wearing around his belt. It came very naturally to him.

With the rifle loaded and in this hands he set out to find the others. Quickly he found a trail through the woods. Something big and strong with human feet had been through. It left a trail like an elephant, rampaging. Or maybe it wasn't. Dusty just found it easy to track, almost as easy as breathing. He followed it, quietly, almost completely silent at all points, and only audible within a few yards. He followed the trail to a small brook and then to a clearing where a large group of people and something Dusty assumed made the trail conversed. He stayed yards away in the tree line, listening without intervening, rifle lowered as he tried to discern the intentions of the group and if they were ultimately friend or foe.