The trio of Osman, Thomas, and Sal’é watched the small village of Agnan for a few hours as the crescent moon began to rise further into the night sky. It cast a creamy glow down onto the grassland before the trio.

“How do we know if he’s there?” Thomas asked as Osman was once again scanning the village with the binoculars.

“We won’t. There’s no way we go in that town guns drawn and live, we wait for some outlaws to pick up those slaves and trail them. Those guys’ll take us to Slick,” Osman replied.

“Who is this Slick guy? Another slaver?” Sal’é asked. She tilted her head as she asked. Osman turned to her, setting the binoculars down.

“He was once a lawman with me, I don’t know much how he got into this slaving business but I’m sure it has something to do with the outlaw Thomas and I are after.” Osman flatly replied.

“How do we know he won’t come pick them up himself?” Thomas asked as Osman handed him the binoculars.

“Slavin’ is a middleman’s game, slaves are captured and sold, then moved and sold, then moved again and sold, it continues until the slaves reach the coast where they can be sold to a trade company. I bet its either Wyatt or Slick who are making the big money moves of selling the boat loads of slaves to trade companies,” Osman said as he sparked a cigarette.

“Tell me, can you use your tribe’s ability?” Osman asked as he turned to Sal’é. Sal’é looked back at Osman with a blank face for a moment, then she smiled and nodded.

“I can do it, but I will need a fresh sample.” She stated back to the old man. Osman sighed a breath of relief. Thomas, who had been scanning the town with the binoculars noticed something. A small group of men wearing jackets and boots, entered the village from its eastern gate.

“I just have old mementoes, but Ngozi already told me they wouldn’t work with your tribe’s ability,” Osman said as he puffed on his cigarette.

“Six outlaws just entered through the East Gate,” Thomas cut in as he tossed the binoculars to Osman who quickly pulled them up to his eyes.

“One…two…three…four…five…six… I’d say those are our guys,” Osman said as he stuffed the binoculars back into his bag. He threw it over his back and slid down into the lower grassland before them. Thomas and Sal’é quickly followed. The tall grass stood high above even Thomas’ head, shrouding the three as they made their way towards the village.

The three moved through the tall grass like snakes, weaving in and out of the tall blades with ease. Osman led the three, occasionally popping his head above the grass to peer around them before pulling it back down and continuing on. Thomas crouched as he walked through the grass, only a few feet behind Osman with Sal’é a few feet to his left.

The trio made their way towards the east gate of Agnan. Hiding in the grasses just beyond the road leading inside the town. Osman held his hand up to Thomas and Sal’é, halting both of them. He turned back to them and slowly waddled over to them as he crouched beneath the grass.

“Alright, we wait here till they leave and then we trail behind ‘em. Once we are far enough in the wilderness, or they get to their camp, we get the jump on ‘em,” Osman whispered to Thomas and Sal’é. They both nodded they understood and the three got comfortable within the grass, making sure not to part any blades. Thomas rested on his knees, Sal’é found herself squatting, and Osman stayed crouching.

After a few minutes of silence, they could hear a marching of feet. The outlaws exited the east gate, holding chains that tied up the slaves from the town. The outlaws had the slaves surrounded as they marched down the trail. Many of them cried and wept, children screamed only to be silenced by their mothers. There were few men, but the ones that were there were badly beaten and bloodied. Thomas watched as one slave, who had freed himself from his wrist shackles by breaking his wrists, attempted to flee the group.

The man quickly threw down the shackles on his hands and dashed between the other rows of people. His eyes wide like a wild animal, he barreled through one of the outlaws. Both men fell to the ground after the collision. The outlaw slowly struggled to get up, as the wild man quickly jumped to his feet and began running towards the large grass field.

Just a little further, keep going. Thomas thought to himself as he watched the ordeal.

The wild man still ran, as one of the other outlaws finally noticed the commotion. The man drew his pistol and aimed it at the running man. Thomas could barely hold himself still as he watched the outlaw take aim. The wild man was but ten feet from the edge of the grasslands. Each second felt like an hour as Thomas watched the wild man get closer to the freedom that lied beyond the grass.

BANG

The wild man crumpled to the ground, one hand falling into the grasslands just before him. The outlaw that he had tackled, was now upon him. The outlaw ripped the barely living man from the ground and held him standing up. The dying man coughed up blood as he held his stomach, which was gushing blood. The outlaw struck the dying man with his elbow before slamming him to the ground and striking him with a series of kicks that ended the poor man’s life. The outlaw kept kicking the corpse of the man long after he had passed, so much that he was only stopped by another outlaw grabbing his shoulder.

Thomas could barely keep his rage back; Osman had grabbed his shoulder when the man had been shot. Osman made sure Thomas kept his cool, never giving away their position.

“We’ll save the rest,” Osman whispered in Thomas’ ear, calming the young man down significantly. He tapped the young man’s shoulder before turning back and watching as the outlaws led the slaves further down the trail.

Osman slowly walked towards the road, and just as he jumped into it, he stood up. Thomas and Sal’é swiftly followed his lead, all three of them appearing on the road together. They slowly strolled down the path, never letting the outlaws leave the edges of their sight. They walked through the cool night with the moon’s glow on their backs for a few hours.

Soon the grasslands surrounding the trail turned to jungle, and not long after, the outlaws led the slaves further into the jungle off the trail. Osman held his hand up to stop Thomas and Sal’é once more.

He picked something off the ground before turning to Sal’é and holding out what was left of a tossed cigarette.

“Track ‘em,” Osman said to Sal’é as she took the cigarette. The old man turned to Thomas who adamantly stared into the jungle where the outlaws had gone.

“We wait here ‘til they stop,” The old man said to Thomas. A disgusted face formed on the young man as he turned to Osman.

“I want us to get the jump on them, not the other way around,” The old man finished.

Meanwhile, Sal’é held out the cigarette in her left palm in front of her, holding her right palm just above the cigarette but not touching it. Her elbows were at right angles horizontally to the sides of her chest, her hands in front of it. She closed her eyes and began to slowly hum, a hum that slowly got louder as she continued. As her hum grew louder, her palms slowly clasped together crushing the cigarette between them.

“All that live, all that breathe, for us to give, what we must leave,” Sal’é quietly chanted.

“What you have left, I have now found, this token you once kept, now we are forever bound,” She chanted as she tightly gripped her palms together. She slowly separated her palms; the cigarette was gone; no trace of it left.

Sal’é sat down as she caught her breath, sweat dripping down her face. Thomas and Osman sat down next to her at the edge of the jungle and the trail. Osman slowly lay down on the soft ground beneath them.

"Wake me up when they stop movin,” he mumbled. He quickly drifted asleep as Thomas gazed at the starry night above them. Sal’é too gazed up at the stars. The two sat there staring for a few minutes before Sal’é looked back at Thomas.

Stolen story; please report.

They sat in silence as Thomas thought about the day. He regretted killing the tribesmen and outlaws, but after seeing how easily they shed blood he found himself justifying his actions. He thought of that slave as he crumpled to the ground upon being shot. His anger boiled deep within him, so much he began to forget the world around him. Thomas jostled back into consciousness after a hand tapped his shoulder. From the corner of his eye he noticed Sal’é sitting in front of him.

“Were you bitten by a K’chata snake?” she asked eagerly. Thomas looked back down to Sal’é, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Yea, about ten years ago,” Thomas replied. He stared down at his hands, they were clean and soft like that of a child’s.

“There’s a shaman in my tribe, she used to tell my brother and I stories about K’chata snakes.” Sal’é mewed. She leaned back and lay down on the ground as she stared at the stars again.

“They choose who they bite, they do not bite in fear or in anger. The energy that you can feel, the energy every living thing produces, K’chata snakes can control it from birth.” She spoke out, reminiscing on her childhood. Thomas sat back and listened as he once more stared at the stars.

“That energy links us all, from every ant to every person to every massive tree in the jungle. We all exist as one. Whenever that balance is disrupted, that energy spurs change in the world,” She continued.

“That’s not me,” Thomas coldly replied. Sal’é sat back up to face Thomas, a shroud of sorrow covering her face.

“I’m not the guy who’s gonna change the world,” he said. Sal’é sat in silence for a moment, as she stared back at Thomas. Her sorrowful demeanor twisted into anger, yet tears formed in her eyes.

“That snake chose you, even now you are bringing change. You’re bringing hope to a land that has been ravaged by fear and hate for generations.” She hissed back at Thomas, tears streaming down her face as she did.

“The monster that snake chose before me killed thousands, that’s not the kind of change I want to bring,” Thomas angrily shot back. He stood up as he raised his voice, only to lower it as Osman’s snoring began to stop. Thomas sat back down, and Osman’s snoring resumed.

“The snake cannot make decisions for man, just like you could not make the decision for the snake to bite you. If the snake bites again, Fate’s wheel has yet to finish spinning.” She angrily replied before turning away from Thomas. He sat there in awe for a moment before realizing what his words had done.

“Sal’é,” Thomas said as he reached out to her, she flinched at his touch causing him to pull his hand back to himself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I don’t want to let anyone down,” Thomas said as he sat back down and stared at his hands.

The two sat in silence as they stared above, the moon slowly beginning to set. Sal’é turned back towards the two lawmen.

“They’ve stopped.” She flatly said. Thomas began to shake Osman awake, he slowly mumbled something and began lifting himself up. In a few minutes, the three were deep in the jungle, slowly treading on towards the outlaws. As they made their way through the dense jungle, Thomas spotted the flickering lights of a small camp first.

The trio slowed down as they neared the camp. The slaves were all corralled into small clearing between a few trees, they were packed in shoulder to shoulder. The outlaws lay on small cots around in front of a small campfire, their tents scattered around behind it. A small wooden hut sat at the edge of the small clearing, run down with its roof caved in. The slaves were chained into a small area, the chains that connected them had been wrapped around multiple trees trapping the people.

Most of the outlaws slept, one however stayed awake on watch duty. Osman motioned for the trio to split up, they circle the small camp. Sal’é and Thomas fervently watched Osman, waiting for his signal. He gave them a thumbs up and the two began moving in towards the camp. Sal’é readied her bow as Thomas got to the edge of the grass and stopped. She aimed her arrow at the one outlaw still awake and let it fly. It sank deep into the man’s chest, dropping him to the ground. Thomas immediately sprung out from the grass and erupted into flames as he entered the camp. His flames spread across all the still sleeping outlaws, trapping them in place. They awoke to the flames spreading over them, screaming out in fear.

Osman slowly approached the corral of the slaves. He saw that each of their shackles was bound by the long set of chain connecting them all. He returned to Sal’é and Thomas who were bounding up the outlaws one by one with a set of rope. Sal’é had found the rope in one of the small tents, she bound them as Thomas retracted his flames slowly. Osman grabbed some more rope from the tent after Sal’é pointed to it. He too began bounding the cursing outlaws. On one of the men, he found a small key that he pocketed.

Osman returned to the slaves and unlocked the shackles on one of them then gave him the key and motioned to the rest of the people in the small corral of chains. Soon enough the chains went limp as the people freed themselves. Thomas and Sal’é finished bounding up the five outlaws just as Osman returned to them.

“Where’s Slick?” Osman asked the men as Thomas fully retracted his flames. He and Sal’é began walking around the small camp, looking for clues, as Osman interrogated the men. Thomas came upon the small, ruined hut and entered it. It was a one room hut, a small kitchen in one corner a bed in the opposite. An old fireplace sat next to the kitchen separating it from a small dining area. Thomas weaved his way through the fallen roof, making his way over to the nightstand next to the bed. There he found a small, framed photo. The photo was a portrait of a tall slender man with a large, brimmed hat. He had wild brown hair that covered his ears and a blank stare just past the camera. Thomas saw the man wore a lawman jacket, with the bronze star badge on his chest as well. Thomas grabbed the photo and exited the small hut to find Sal’é rounding the corner almost colliding with him.

“Come here I found something,” she eagerly said as she spun on her heels and raced around the corner of the hut. Thomas followed her out behind the hut into a small clearing with a single gravestone. As Thomas neared the gravestone, he saw a single rose set on the ground just before the gravestone. It was healthy, and vibrant in its color. This flower was fresh. As Thomas neared the gravestone, he saw what was carved into it.

REST IN PEACE

BRYAN CURNS

1107-1162

He died as he lived

Sal’é grabbed the flower as Thomas lifted the portrait to show her. Her eyes grew wild, she grabbed the photo and gazed at it for a few moments.

“You think this is Bryan Curns?” Thomas asked Sal’é as she let go of the portrait. She nodded in approval and the two turned back to head to Osman. As they arrived the old man sat in silence smoking as the outlaws cursed at him.

“They said Slick was here a day or so ago,” Osman began, puffing on his cigarette as he did. Thomas held the portrait of the lawman up to Osman.

“Was he friends with a mister Bryan Curns?” Thomas asked as Osman leaned into look at the photo. The old lawman chuckled then puffed on his cigarette before throwing it into the small campfire. He stood up and cracked his back before locking eyes with Thomas.

“That is Slick,” the old man laughed. Thomas’ jaw dropped faster than his heart. Sal’é showed Osman the flower she had found on the gravestone.

“Would he have left this?” She asked the old man. Osman’s chuckle turned into a hardy laugh, his chest wheezing with each breath.

“That bastard,” he laughed.

“We called Bryan, Slick, ‘cuz he was hard to pin down in a gunfight. When Wyatt’s gang was made outlaws, it was never really made public. The men just stopped going by the names they had been given and started using new flashy names. To the public a man like Bryan Curns is dead. Six Shooter Slick is just another outlaw to ‘em,” Osman laughed. He pointed to the flower in Sal’é’s hand.

“Track him,” Osman commanded. He turned back to the five outlaws sitting before them.

“I’m a leave y’all here, better hope someone shows up soon,” the old man said to the men. He fished in his bag for a small cloth that he ripped up into five small pieces. He walked over to one of the outlaws, then struck the man in his gut. When the man’s jaws flew open in pain, Osman stuffed a piece of cloth deep into his throat.

“Through your nose,” he whispered to the man as he choked and gasped for breath. Osman repeated that process with the other four outlaws, gagging all of them in just a few moments. Sal’é meanwhile held the flower in her left palm just in front of her chest, mimicking the same form she had done earlier.

“All that live, all that breathe, for us to give, what we must leave,” Sal’é began.

“What you have left, I have now found, this token you once kept, now we are forever bound,” She slammed her palms together tightly. Then separated them, the flower gone. She looked to Osman then pointed towards the jungle.

“He’s far in that direction. At least a hundred miles.” She said to the old man. Osman nodded then motioned for her and Thomas to follow him.

“Let’s go get the stinger, we got him now, no matter where he runs we will chase him now,” Osman eagerly spoke out. Thomas was shaking with excitement; he was now one step closer to finding and killing Wyatt. One step closer to getting his revenge.

The journey back to the stinger in Eastern Madibya took four days for the trio, Osman’s ailing body holding them back significantly. The entire time, Thomas focused on his goal. He and Sal’é would joke around with one another, but never speak like they had that night on the trail.

When they got to the city, Sal’é was flabbergasted by all the technology and the urban environment. She vomited as the stinger took off, her first flight. Just like a kid, or like Thomas, she eagerly stared out the windows at the world beneath them as they soared through the sky. She would point Osman in the direction of Slick every few hours as they flew.

Eventually the jungles, and grasslands below turned to marshes and then savanna. Eventually they neared the edge of the savanna, a vast sea of sand that stretched as far as the eye could see. The savanna kept the sandy sea at bay, stretching down across the horizon. As they came across the edge, Sal’é went wild pointing down below them.

“That town down there, he’s there, he’s just below us,” She wildly yelled. Osman quickly nodded before bringing the stinger down. He circled the small town as the stinger descended towards the ground. All the while Thomas shook with excitement. This was his first real outlaw that he was going after. No small time outlaw just moving slaves, but a real player in the system. Thomas gleefully waited as the stinger landed not far outside the town, just behind a small rock formation in the desert.