[h3]The Sheriff and Deputy Clyde Winters[/h3] - [@May96] A flurry of shaking hands, jumbled thanks, sideways glares, mumbled threats, quiet insults, and confused glances are what welcomed Uzume as she stepped off the wagon. She would soon find herself pressed by a growing crowd of people out of the way, until she was left forgotten in the street as people streamed past to unload and organize what few supplies the wagon had. Anything was welcome these days... Though soon a fight began to break out. People scrambling to try and disrupt the order so as to sneak off with a can of food, or a bottle of rum, or some other item they thought worth a struggle for. This fight ended before it even began, however, as a gunshot rang over the crowd. "You idiots better drop what you're grabbing before I put you in a bed behind bars for breaking the ration rules." A voice carrying immense authority called over the ensuing silence. The voice belonged to a man in a wide brimmed hat, with a dull and faded badge on his vest, cocking the lever of a repeating rifle as he stepped past Uzume as if she didn't exist. Several people shamefully returned themselves to order and set about re-organizing the supplies, even as others grumbled and slinked away with askew glances at the sheriff. Ambulating behind him, nearly a dozen or so paces behind due to the Sheriff's rapid pace, was none other than the awkwardly shifting, young, deputy called Clyde. The Sheriff's presence itself seemed to bring a calm over the tension in the air, and within the next few moments the wagon owners and the Sheriff were speaking in quiet voices. The Sheriff lifted his head and seemed to acknowledge Uzume for the first time, before he just flicked a hand towards Clyde. "Thank her." he said without looking at Clyde, the sheriff's gaze returning to the supplies and listening to the waggoneer's story about the trip. Clyde seemed to rub his badge several times before walking back towards Uzume- nearly tripping and falling over his own feet as he approached her, causing him to awkwardly rush the last few steps and nearly bowl her over. He seemed to realize at the final moment the impact about to occur, and threw himself to the ground and slammed into it at her feet rather than bumble into her. Ever a gentleman, our Clyde. The Sheriff shook his head at the spectacle.- laughter erupting from the nearby saloon. He then lifted up a case out of the wagon himself and began to lead other folks in carrying them into the town. Clyde groaned and picked himself up, dusting his vest off and rubbing his badge once again. He then sucked in a breath and spoke at Uzume; "Nǐ hǎo! Xièxiè nín de bāngzhù! Nǐ de zhàngfū zài nǎ?" He said in fluent chinese without a beat in his strangely paced tempo, extending his hand to her with a goofy smile. "Rúguǒ nǐ xiàng tāmen shuō dì nàyàng shúliàn, rúguǒ nǐ de zhàngfū yuànyì, wǒmen kěnéng huì gùyòng nǐ." he laughed as if he said something silly and oh-so hilarious. [hr] [h3]The Leaky Pitcher[/h3] - [@ElRey814][@TitusCaecilius][@Cleverbird] In the heat of the day, the saloon was relatively populated. New faces such as Lily's received much scrutiny as they entered. Those who had spent even a week longer in Ulysses than them seemed to act as if they belonged and newcomers didn't, as if they were glued to their seats and the glasses of murky mixture in their hands were a part of their bodies. But none batted an eyelash at Samuel Gilead- a man whom, to the rest of the town, was no different than a rusty nail sticking out of the board work of the building. He simply belonged. Hushed whispers-- [i]Red necktie- that's damn disrespectful. Don't she know about Redmond?[/i] [i]She some vagrant, copying the bandit? If she is we might be able to get a reward for 'er.[/i] [i]She carries them pistols like she knows how to use 'em- interested in sheriff's work. Not from here, wonder if she'll stick around[/i] [i]I betcha a nickel she's a whore by the end of the week[/i] [i]ooo boy, gilead's talkin' to 'er. This'll be good.[/i] [i]God I hate this town.[/i] And similar other mumbles and mutters of little consequence. The mumbles were cut short, however, by a gunshot from the street- and those who turned to look out the window of the saloon soon bore witness to a scene of some despair; a wagon of supplies being heckled, just for the sheriff to come and put an end to the shenanigans. Once the conflict was cleared up, a few patrons of the saloon donned hats and coats and stepped out to lend a hand to the sheriff in handling the supplies- the more good natured of the folk, that is. Others grumbled more about the gunfire and disruption as if it was orchestrated specifically to bother them. Then, finally, a round of uproarious laughter exploded from many of the patrons at the sight of the deputy tripping over his own feet towards the strange woman with the swords. The bartender gruffly laughed out to Lily in response to her question; "That there's the sheriff, in the big hat with the rifle." but as soon as the laughter started, a round of coughing fits and the clinking of glasses returned to being the norm in terms of the saloon's auditory nature. And as the quiet returned, the strangeness of Gilead and Lily seemed to have lost the interest of the patrons, and that left Guilhartz as the object of the mumbling and gossip- his foreign features and well kempt manner making him of particular interest to the working women of the upper floor, one of which who whistled to him to try and get him to look up at her so she could try to woo him with a provocative gesture. A few of the men guffawed at the scene, but all in all the saloon returned to its usual, tense, gossip-filled, loosely alcoholic, stature. [hr] [h3]Onawa[/h3] - [@Clever Hans] She rubbed her eyes. She was tired. Why did she have to be up? Why did papa keep her moving like this? She looked ahead up her, up at the man she called father, and stumbled over a small shrubbery in her drowsy state. As she stumbled the man moved back in a blur to catch her, a slight wince of pain clear even to Onawa in his breath. She looked up at him worriedly, but the calm in his eyes settled her own restlessness. [i]Soon, little one, you may rest. Soon. A kind man is close. You will stay with him for a time. Until I am able to return to you.[/i] his words filtered into her mind through a fog, their meaning barely registering as she felt herself lifted into his arms. She felt the warm wetness of blood down one of his arms, but was too tired to do more than wriggle away from its grossness as best she could. [i]Papa, why?[/i] she asked, finally, as she turned her head to the side and saw the light of a campfire ahead of them. Not that far, but far enough she didn't want to make the walk herself. She relaxed in her father's arms and let him bear her weight. [i]The wolf hunts me. Because of the dreams. Because of your dreams. Remember the howl, my child? remember it always, and fear it. If you dream the howl, run when you wake. Promise me this, Onawa, and I promise that one day I'll return to you.[/i] [i]I promise, papa.[/i] she said as her eyes fell shut. [i]Why is the wolf hunting us?[/i] [i]Because Tivaci is old. He has lost much, and I fear something evil has...[/i] She drifted to sleep as he spoke, his words lulling her to slumber even as he tried to warn her... [hr] Jack Tatum soon witnessed something eerie. Eerie indeed. The native man from before- the one who'd eaten at his fire, the one with the gash on his arm- reappeared in the firelight, a girl in his arms. By his reckoning, the girl couldn't be more than ten, but she could also just be a tall and lean girl for her age given the native upbringing. The man stared at Jack for a few moments, before laying the girl down beside the fire and placing the handle of his knife into her palm. He held onto her hand for a few moments, lingering and gazing at her, before returning his eyes to Jack. In a thick voice, slow and slurred, he spoke; "...Protect... Onawa. Wolf. The Wolf hunts. Evil. Evil land. Evil men." He gazes down at her and begins to weep. "Good. Onawa Good. You good. I feel it. Protect. I lead Wolf away. Farewell, Onawa." And without another moment's hesitation the man broke into a frenzied sprint from the fire, staggering as he ran into the night.