"My, Rexford," Meriem exclaimed as she struggled to pick up his newly severed arm, "this thing is indeed muscular! I can't even begin to guess how much it weighs!"

The deputy heard her, but was still lost in a world of pain from its removal. Perhaps there was a perk to the prairie witch using liquor to incapacitate him earlier; it made the burn of losing a limb slightly more manageable. But Reynold's continuous screaming did little to suggest that.

"See, Rexford," Meriem continued, dragging his arm over to another location away from the rest of his body, "this is why I chose the bloodless severing spell. I figured if you saw blood you would be screaming even more. I had no idea such a beefcake of a man would be such a baby with a little pain."

"'A little pain'?!" hissed Reynold as he shook from the physical damage, "You cut my arm off!"

"Don't be such a whiner. Norma and you are broken up in more ways than one now. The tattoo you got here would just make you look foolish. I did you a favor. Now, I suppose with everything else I'm about to cut off of you it really doesn't matter since you'll be dead anyway...but still."

Meriem let go of the arm and walked back over to the pentagram where Reynold remained bound, albeit short one limb.

"Let's see here. I suppose it only makes sense I do your left arm now to balance things out." The prairie witch held her spell book high to read from it as before; Reynold closed his eyes tight and winced at the thought of a second round of pain. But, to his surprise, Meriem made no sound.

Instead, the deputy heard a loud THWACK! He opened his eyes wide to see.

Meriem lay on the ground, blood gushing out of a wound on the back of her bald head. Behind her stood a familiar face. Incidentally, when the witch had discarded the club she had used to knock Reynold out, she hadn't expected someone else to pick it up and use it on her.

"GHORTFASH!" Reynold exclaimed at the sight of the figure. Despite the pain and lingering alcohol after-effects he was dealing with, Reynold finally had a reason to smile.

The sheriff savior seemed to have mixed emotions at the sight of his subordinate's current state.

"Oh, Rexy," he sighed sadly, "I would be lying if I didn't confess I always imagined seeing your big, muscular chest shirtless like this one day, but your right arm is...gone..."

"Ghortfash, you don't know how happy I am to see you! But...but how did you find me?"

"What do you mean, Rexy? I just followed your screams. I was halfway up the mountain when I first heard you. It was easy from then on. Hard to miss you with how loud you were."

"But...but Meriem said she cast a spell that wiped all memory of herself from the folks of Fox Den..."

Ghortfash cocked his head to the side. "Huh. Well, that explains that."

"What?"

"Well, it was getting late and I hadn't seen you. I thought I'd stop by Simpson's Saloon and see how you were doing. But when I got there, I saw Simpson and he said you and a woman who made him uneasy had left earlier, heading south. When I asked him why she made him uneasy he began trying to tell me, but then out of the blue he froze. When I asked what was wrong he couldn't explain it, but then when I asked him to continue telling me about the strange woman he just stared back confused, said he suddenly had no idea what I was talking about. Her spell must have just been cast then. Glad I talked to him before that happened or I'dve not known to head this way!"

"But...why didn't you forget her?"

"How could I forget a woman I'd never seen? Anyway, I started south and it only made sense you'd be at Cheyenne Crossing Caves- glad I assumed right. That must be why I'm such a good sheriff round these parts."

"So, then...has Simpson forgotten about me as well?" inquired Reynold.

"What? No. Simpson still remembers you. Has your hat. Said you left it there after drinking a lot earlier when you found out about your failed engagement. But he can't say why you chose to sit in that dark corner as opposed to where you'd normally be. It's like a piece is missing from his mind that leaves him unable to answer."

The sheriff bent down at Reynold's feet. "Let me get you untied, Rexy." He loosened the knot by his left foot.

"Yes, Ghortfash, you can't untie me fast enough. With all the pain I'm in I'm afraid I can't break free without your help."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad I got here before that witch stole both your arms." He glanced longingly at the severed right arm out of the way. "I...I don't know that you'll be able to re-attach it, Rexy. At least not without the same magic like was used to sever it. But we'll take it with us anyway."

Reynold was not too enthused to hear that his limb had been permanently removed, but now was not the time to think about such things. His priority was to get free from his bonds- then he'd focus on his absent arm. Ghortfash had moved on to the other leg, untying its binds quickly.

"Rexy, I wish you had taken me up on my offer instead of going to the saloon," the sheriff remarked as he made his way over to Reynold's remaining tied hand, "I would've taken such good care of you tonight. None of this would have happened.

"I wish I had stayed with you, Ghortfash," the deputy nodded with regret. His response seemed to spark something in Ghastfash eyes.

"Really, Rexy? I'm... I'm more than happy to still take good care of you. Once we get you out of here, I mean."

"Ghortfash, after the night I've had I'd let you do whatever you want to me."

This really made sparks fly in Ghortfash's eyes.

"Oh, Rexy, you have no idea-" Ghortfash's conversation was quickly cut short but the sound of hideously cackling. Both men turned in horror to see Meriem: she was conscious and on her feet. She too had sparks in her eyes but they were sparks of rage.

"Good goose and gander!" Ghortfash' cried out. His eyes darted to the club that he had left by Reynold's feet. However, so too did Meriem's, noted what the sheriff was after.

"You think you're faster than a prairie witch's magic?" she hissed with a taunting tone.

"You haven't seen me run, you Lilith!" countered Ghortfash, "They used to say I was the fastest man in Fox Den."

"'Used to?' Sounds like then it should be easy for me to beat you if that's all in the past."

While the two verbally sparred, Reynold wiggled his hand out of the now untied rope.

"What, you want to see how fast I can get to that club?" continued Ghortfash, "Don't think I can?"

"Not before I cast stronger something that way," replied Meriem, the blood from her head wound dripping down the side of her face.

"Keep your eyes on the club, then, witch. You'll see. I'll be there in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

"And I'll have you dead in one shake," Meriem claimed, though she obediently directed her eyes in the direction of the club. It was the opening Ghortfash hoped for; in a second, instead of heading to the club, he charged headfirst into the unsuspecting woman, knocking her backwards a good distance and in to the purple fire still burning behind.

Meriem let out a scream as the flames licked her pale skin; she tried to sink her nails into Ghortfash's flesh but because they had been removed could not do so. However, that did not mean Ghortfash was safe- her hands gripped around his neck, dragging him too into the violet fire.

"Ghortfash!" Reynold cried, jumping to his feet. But in doing so, the pain of his own head injury and missing limb overwhelmed him, causing him to teeter back and forth. He would be of no help to his boss in his current state.

However, it didn't seem as though Ghortfash wanted help. Despite the flames burning around him, the sheriff barked to Reynold: "Get out of here, Rexy! Run!"

That seemed like the only thing Reynold could do- he could run back to town and get help. Surely an army of men could overpower a prairie witch. But what of Ghortfash? No, the sheriff had given his order and Reynold had to be smart considering his circumstances.

Not wanting Ghortfash's sacrifice to be in vain, the deputy took off running, out of the cave system and as quickly as he could down the rocky mountain side. He stumbled and tripped but he had to get down.

Then one misstep sent him falling over. No more was he running, but rather tumbling out of control. Each bounce he rolled seemed to drain more energy from his already damaged body. When the deputy finally came to rest at the bottom of the mountain, he was too exhausted to move. He would have to lay there until the next morning, when he had time to recuperate. Only then could he continue to Fox Den.