Cyrus stood, clenching his fists at the thought that no matter how long ago the war was, it still felt like it raged on every day for him. Some days, even though he never had wore a proper uniform, he felt like the young confederate cavalryman from years ago, still fighting to free his state. They taught him how to put his uniform on, but he still just couldn't take it off.

His brooding was stammered only by the fact that he was faced with questions from the Sioux woman. They were odd questions, only in the fact that they were asked with such urgency. Cyrus stuttered for a moment, as he looked at her quizzically. Before he could answer, the sheriff entered the room again and started throwing around questions. These questions were met with even stranger answers.

[i]“Fine, he was dead but now he is undead. He is walking around out there somewhere right now looking for someone to feed from to regain his strength and if I don’t find him and figure out what the hell kind of undead he is you are going to have a lot more bodies on your hands,”[/i]

This all warranted a rather shocked look from Cyrus, as he stared at her, not sure what to say. He had never heard of such a thing. It was like something from the book of revelations or from some old dark fairy tales or even some stories that the native Americans told. He never gave them any grain of truth, but now he was being faced with the idea that a man he had shot dead was up and walking again. There had to be a more logical explanation for all of this.

Cyrus was faced with the question once again, and he opened his mouth to answer. Before he could form words, a woman, whose presence he had not known of until now, spoke in a tone that could only give him a terrible attitude. 

[i]“I think it would be wise if you answered her.”[/i]

"HOW 'BOUT YOU FUCK OFF, YES?" Cyrus shouted without hesitation, as he had lost control of his anger and his words for a moment. He stared at her, a scowl on his face at being interrupted so rudely and even talked down to so rudely. He hadn't lost everything in his life to be faced with such blatant disrespect and anal behavior.

He breathed in and out slow, looking down at the ground, and closing his eyes. He looked back up again, the frustration still present in his voice and his eyes, as he answered this Sioux woman's questions.

"I am Cyrus Pendleton. I killed a man who went by the name of 'Westbrook'." He paused, thinking over how long ago he killed the man, "I would say I killed him less than an hour ago."

"I shot him with a colt single action," He pulled it from its holster, showing both sides of it while holding it in the air, finger off the trigger. "I put three bullets in him," He rotated the cylinder, really only doing this for affect. "The bullets are just lead. The gun is just made of iron." He tapped the edge of it. "That's all. Anything important about that? It has killed a lot of men. They all die the same way." He shrugged, leaving it at that, as his anger seemed to have subsided.