Cat had been traveling for some time now, and had paused to rest. It was only by an odd providence that she paused her small carriage by the side of this particular field. The schooner was a small affair, just enough to house some of her wares and the bags she tended to carry with her. As she took off her wide-brim hat and wiped her brow, her freckled face turned to take a look at the field. It was then that she noticed the red stains that were soaking into the dirt. Her eyes widened, and she leaped off the wagon seat and moved into the field itself. 

"Tarnations...?" she muttered. Her green eyes scanned the area, looking to see if there was anyone else. It was then that she heard the shot, and jumped. Her hand went to her thigh, where she felt, underneath her skirt, underskirt, and numerous other undergarments, the small pepperbox pistol that she kept hidden. Alright, so she wasn't completely defenseless.

She made a small run deeper into the field, towards the sound of the gunshot and the scream. She tried to keep her eyes out for whatever it might be, aware that it might be something she didn't need to get involved in. A mixture of curiosity about this strange new territory - mixed with a sense that she might have to get involved if need be - caused her to continue onward.