Chapter 14 - A Night's Stay

"By the Gods!" He yelled, Knowing that the trio didn't have any tools, he went to the cowboys and got on his knees. "I know your boss is injured, but do you have any way to fix my wagon?"

"Your wagon?" One of the cowboys turned to face it. "Oh, right, your wagon! Here, let me help you with that." The man limped over and watched as the cowboy propped the wagon up with a spare metal bar. Fetching a wrench, he reinstalled the wheel on the wagon, making sure the lug was tightened properly. He did this check on the three other wheels too, before returning to the man. "Well, that's that. Does it look good to you?"

"Does it look good? It's fantastic! Thank you so much!" The man wobbled as he bowed furiously, before having another realization. He dropped to the ground again, sobbing.

"Hey, what's wrong?" The cowboy asked.

"The horses! The horses are gone!"

"Oh yeah, you're right! What happened to them?"

"When the wagon's wheel popped off, the horses managed to untie themselves and ran off into the forest, leaving me here alone!"

"How in the hell did they manage that?"

"I don't know! But I'd completely forgotten about it until now. Even with the wagon fixed, there's no way for me to push it, especially with my foot the way it is. The next available town with stables will take a day or two to get there... What am I going to do?"

The cowboy rubbed his chin, thinking. "I could go with you, if you want."

"Really?"

He nodded. "I mean, you'll have to do it anyway. Best that nobody else tries bothering you on the way there. I'll have to talk to the Boss first, but I bet she'll let me. She can never ignore a man in need."

The man thanked him furiously once again, and the cowboy received permission to take him to the stables. But surprisingly, she gave the order to have all the cowboys accompany him too, just as a precaution.

"But Boss, what if someone tries robbing this place again?" The cowboys asked.

"Ya know me. I'll shoot 'em before they realize what's hitting them. Now go! Help this man."

Half wanting to help and half wanting to explore another town, Maya went along with them to the stables. The group headed out, lanterns in hand and one of them carrying the man, leaving Scala, Peter, and the Elf with the wagon. The Elf, not wanting to be seen, hid behind a nearby tree, staying close enough to react when necessary. And thus, Peter and Scala were left together at the wagon.

Thirty minutes later, the sun completely set.

It became eerily dark, the insides of the forest no longer visible from the outside. The only source of light at the wagon was a lit lantern, sitting right in the middle. Despite the cargo, Peter and Scala managed to rearrange the crates so they could sleep; Scala laid down on two crates strong enough to support her weight, while Peter decided to go for the wagon's bed instead. The two stared at the stars in the sky as the lantern burned, until Scala took out a harmonica from one of her pouches.

"You have a harmonica?" He asked.

"Sure do. Sometimes, the night sky just gets me in the mood, ya know?"

"I understand, but where'd you get one?"

"I bought it from a shop."

"...Oh."

"What, you thought harmonicas didn't exist but guns could?"

He remained silent.

She laughed heartily. "You're a riot, you know that?"

"Shut up."

"Alright, alright." She turned her attention to the harmonica and started playing it. Despite his initial apprehension, he ended up appreciating her tunes. If anything about her was true, it was that she was a pretty good player. 

"So, Scala, you said you were an Outworlder, right?"

She stopped. "Yeah. What about it?"

"How'd you start out? When you got teleported, I mean."

"Start out? Let's see... I was teleported in front of the king, like all the Outworlders before me. He didn't particularly like me though."

"Why not?"

"Ya think people take kindly to people who look like me?"

"I mean, they made you that way, right?"

"Nope. Where'd you get that idea from? The Kingdoms don't really have a say in what the Outworlders have or look like when they arrive. Some turn out normal, while others become different races entirely, like me. They also don't get to choose what powers the Outworlders have. Only the Gods can do that."

"Oh."

"Anyways, he didn't like how I looked, so he ended up letting me go. And let me tell ya, the capital city of Phegolan ain't the best way to start your new life. I ended up wandering for quite a while until I found my power, then I got real giddy at the possibilities."

"What even is your power, anyway?"

"When I shoot a gun, I can manipulate the bullets into going exactly where I want them to."

"Wait, really?"

"Yep. Ya saw how my bullets ricocheted, right? That ain't something regular guns can do by themselves. But with me at the trigger, suddenly the bullets know what path to take to land where I need them to. I just need to think generally about where I want it to land. Only problem with that method is that bullets can't penetrate into the next person, so if it hits an object I want it to hit, that's it. Even with a bullet that can normally go through multiple objects, it'll just stop right in that object, and it'll take the entire force of the bullet. It's real funny when ya need to bust open a door. It's less funny when you only have a couple bullets and a horde of bandits running at ya."

"Interesting."

Scala sat up, looking in the direction of the Elf, before lying down again. "So, since I explained my power... how about yours?"

He frowned, but soon shook it off his face. He'd already seen it, and anybody within earshot already knew about it. "Well, as you saw, I can manipulate blood."

"How's it work?"

"It's like yours. I just imagine it moving, and it does. I don't think I ever tried using a living person's blood against them until you came, though."

"So why don't you keep a vial of that stuff with you?"

"Too suspicious. You think people just go around carrying a vial of blood on them? Besides, it'll run out eventually. Eventually, blood gets used up and I can't control it anymore."

"Like when it got turned black?"

"Yeah, exactly."

"Hmm. I would've thought that ya generation would have no restrictions by now."

"I'm not exactly the most normal Outworlder out there."

"That's true." 

A minute of silence passed. Then, Peter asked a question. "Hey, what made you want to be a cowboy?"

"They're cool."

"Well, yeah, but I doubt you came into this world immediately knowing what you wanted to do. So why a cowboy?"

"It's a personal matter. But since I haven't met any other Outworlder besides you, I'll tell you, on the condition that you tell me your business too."

"It's not particularly special."

"Come on! You're an Outworlder. All Outworlders have something interesting about them, even if its the way they died."

He thought about it for a second. Then, he sighed. "Yeah, I guess I can tell you."

"Hell yeah! So, guess I start with me, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. You better not fall asleep, because it's a long story."

He adjusted his position on the wagon's bed. "It's fine. I'm used to long stories."