[b][u][color=darkorange]Off Chisholm Trail, Near to Selina[/color][/u][/b]

"I better tend to the horses," the driver muttered, unaccustomed to seeing such butchery.  There was shootings sure, out here in the Disputed Lands there was always shootings, and sometimes those fucking injins come out and work some of their mischief, but that was different somehow.  He'd kept further from the body, and seent somethin' the others hadn't noticed yet.  He weren't no sharp eye the driver, but he were good enough now at surviving even when that meant getting the hell out of Dodge.  Sometimes literally.

Coughing as he passes the Frenchman he vaguely gestures off toward the bushes, toward the blood trail.  Toward two other bodies.

[b][color=darkorange][Constantin LeBlanc Passes Survival Check][/color][/b]

Sure enough, deeper into the brush is a slick trail of blood and a discarded shoe.  With a closer look LeBlanc can see a bloody socked foot and a pale leg sticking out through some brush.