You woke up alone, but it was no surprise. The gentleman who had accompanied you had left, and now it was just you, Cadichon and the kitten. By day, that grove was less scary.
Despite the difficulty of traveling with a wagon through the narrow passages between scattered and confused eucalyptus trees, you knew it would be a short journey, as the map indicated.
Or at least you imagined. The dirt roads were full of forks and the mess those thin, orderly trees caused was a trap for you and Cadichon. For the first time on this run, you regretted trying to take a shortcut. Then, waved your arms and snorted impatiently when realized you'd already wasted two hours in that place. You observed on the horizon a small and old house that adorned the clearing. It was already the fifth or sixth time you've seen it. Your back hurt terribly. The place was silent, dewy and bathed in gentle warmth.
You got off your wagon and looked around for a good mix of herbs. With a sore back, a good kumbaya wouldn't hurt. So, you searched the drawers for a product you didn't usually use because considered it, in short, slightly disgusting. But in the absence of fine silk or a good pipe, spider silk paper was the best alternative for making kumbaya. You cleverly combined the ingredients. Mugwort, jasmine and fennel, evenly distributed and packaged in aged silk paper.
In one deft movement, you lit the cigarette and sat down in the back of your wagon. You lie there with your legs outside and throw them willingly.
You saw a shadow and the kitten jumped off the shelf as if someone had shouted 'fish!'. It was what came in the scale of its demands, evidently. Whenever you came back from a shop with milk cream or aged cheese, the cat would wrap itself around your ankles like a furry rope, obviously hoping to trip you up and knock you over.
At one of the checkpoints, you made the mistake of stopping your wagon next to a poultry farm. Coming out of one of the greengrocers, you could hear a jumble of flapping wings and people cursing. ''Damn cat!'', was what they said. The cat hid inside your wagon when it was caught in the act with a huge quail wing in its mouth. That was at the top of its demands, quail wings. That's not counting when you saw it chase a fox last week. The cat was small, but it had the confidence of a lion.
The kitten couldn't resist hair either. At that moment, it approached you with a purr and its paw reached out and tapped the top of your head, carefully. You relaxed a little; you didn't purr, but felt very peaceful. It was extremely relaxing to have the cat ruffle and comb your hair with its short claws, pausing from time to time to rub itself affectionately on your head. With half-closed eyes and a half-finished cigarette, you thought about how difficult it would be to find the way out of that labyrinth disguised as a forest.
''Eat shit, asshole! Fall of your horse!'' The peaceful silence was interrupted, and the cat leaped after you, leaving your hair disheveled and taking the flower from the locks – which it seemed to be silently chewing – hanging, wet, and tattered.
In fright, you got up and took the cigarette out of your mouth to make sure you didn't swallow it. You unceremoniously picked up your carbine and walked to where you thought the trouble was.
''You guys!'' Another unknown voice was heard. ''Are you lost too?''
Peering out among the eucalyptus trees, you can see clearly. Gyro, Johnny, Hot Pants and Gaucho. You got to meet Gaucho in Arizona, but you never really talked to him. On the other hand, the other runners you knew well.
''That son of a bitch again!'' Gaucho continued. ''Always at the curtain by the door... always by the damn curtain!''
You flinched when you saw him furiously get off his horse. Whatever he was planning, it didn't look good. He walked towards the house you saw earlier, calling out to the man who lived there.
''Don't fuck with me! If you want to be killed so badly i'll do it! This is your last chance to tell me the real path that'll get me out of here!''
''I'm no liar.'' A man emerged from the darkness of the house's interior. ''But if you want to call me that, I don't mind. There is only one correct path... If you want to get out of here you must kill me.''
You didn't understand anything. Absolutely nothing. But seeing Gyro and Johnny there made you sure that something completely absurd was coming. The man who lived in the house was tall, striking, and impassive. He had snow-white hair and a beard. His eyes, from this distance, were a color that was difficult to discern. In his holster, a huge revolver flashed.
The unfriendly atmosphere made you fight panic, forcing yourself to listen carefully, and understand everything about the situation. By all indications, a duel was about to begin. You watched the man demand that Gaucho takes five steps forward. What was the protocol for a duel? You questioned yourself because you had never watched one like this. The guns' silvery glow rose, and amid shouts and curses, two shots were fired from both sides. Gyro, Johnny, and Hot Pants looked as intrigued as you were, but the only thing on your mind right now was the words of the man in the house.
To find the way, it would be necessary to kill him. You obviously wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, but you weren't willing to face anyone, especially after seeing Gaucho choke on his blood, feeling the despair of imminent death.
The three runners argued among themselves, and you froze behind the eucalyptus trees. You didn't dare move. Intense fear settled in the pit of your stomach, a painful dread that underlay the sharp ache of grief. Gaucho would not survive and the others didn't seem very interested in dueling with the winner. For God's sake, you naturally couldn't land a single shot on anything as big as a house, even with your Stand ability, the nervousness of being in a duel was much different than shooting an unarmed person.
''Come on, Johnny, we can't stay here forever! Let's get out of here!'' Gyro said.
Without realizing it, they rode towards you, leaving Hot Pants behind. You instinctively shrank back into the bushes and took a deep breath. Preventing them from noticing your presence was more about shame than fear.
''Who's there? Get out now!'' To your surprise, a voice came from behind you and it was impossible to avoid a short cry of fright.
You jumped out of the bush when you recognized Hot Pants.
''Whoa! Hot Pants, it's just me!'' You said with a placating gesture with your hands.
''You... What are you doing here?''
''I got lost, just like you. I saw everything.''
''Where's your wagon?''
''Not far. I heard Gyro shout and came to see what was going on.''
''How much time you are here?''
''I don't know... maybe two or three hours? Who is that guy who killed Gaucho?
He was silent for a few seconds. His serious, impassive expression was stronger now, with an air that was still military. The pink locks swayed gently in the wind and the gold accents on his outfit gleamed in the grainy sunlight, which also illuminated the long, straight line of his nose and the soft curve of his pink-tinted lip. The shadows on the jaw and forehead give him an austere look. He nudged his horse and walked it back to the main road.
''Stay away from that house, it could be dangerous.'' He looked at Gyro and Johnny just ahead, they didn't seem to have noticed your presence. ''If you want, you can stay hidden or accompany me, but stay away from that man.'
You confirmed with a nod.
''Go with them, I'll catch up with you later.'' You said, heading straight for your wagon.
As you walked, your hand twitched suddenly with nervousness. Hot Pants watched you disappear among the eucalyptus leaves and trunks as if you knew the place like the palm of your hand or else knew how to move very well amid the woods. Watching you from afar was like watching a nymph emerge from a dark lake and disappear on the cold shores.
In a few minutes, when he had already joined Gyro and Johnny, he saw you emerge from the trees on a mule, leaving the wagon behind. Gyro was aware of the agitation, and then relaxed when he saw your face. ''It's you.'' He looked you straight in the eye, not too happy to see you. ''Why don't you ever show up when we need you?''
''(Y/N)...'' Johnny said. ''Are you lost too?''
''Yes, much longer than you.''
''Do you know them?'' Hot Pants asked, pulling his horse towards you, but then giving up when he saw the mule stir in protest.
''Wait, you know this guy, (Y/N)?!'' Gyro butted in.
''Yeah, I know pretty much everyone from that race, dumbass.'' You replied curtly. ''It doesn't matter. How are we going to get out of here?''
You watched the three men talk, pathetically diverging their ideas and plans. You also looked around and analyzed the place. It smelled like plowed land. Cadichon snorted, not happy with the presence of other horses, lowered her ears, and walked without your command.
The great truth was that when you were riding Cadichon you were completely at the mercy of the mule.
You looked at the house while listening intently to Hot Pants' plan. He seemed much more organized and secure than Johnny and Gyro, so you will feel safer with him.
''We should do what we can, with the minimum risk...'' Hot Pants said. ''If we're going to kill him, all three of us are going to do it.''
Johnny watched and muttered something to Gyro. You've never seen him so austere, and that worried you about the seriousness of the situation. It was possible to hear him say something about the corpse and a shiver went up your spine. That blue gaze and those frighteningly obstinate words made Gyro need a few seconds to think. ''I don't want him to get the next corpse part...'' he said, referring to who you thought to be Diego. You took a deep breath as the image of him in the moonlight came into your mind. ''We wouldn't want the terrorists to get it either, right, Gyro? It's the same for you, isn't it, Gyro?''
''Fine...'' The Italian said, but it seemed to be for Hot Pants, given that suspicious look that had no end. ''But don't forget about (Y/N). She comes with us.''
''What?!'' You intruded. ''No way! I don't want to mess with those fucking terrorists, I'm already in enough trouble because of you two!''
''I don't see the point of involving her in this.'' Hot Pants defended you. ''She's just a hawker, we can't put her at risk for no reason. ''
''Just a hawker? You're kidding, aren't you? She's one of us, you idiot.''
''Gyro is right, (Y/N) can come with us. She's a good shooter if we need her.'' Johnny added, and you gave him a stern look.
Hot Pants looked at you, certainly intrigued. You didn't want to get involved at all. That man killed Gaucho in the blink of an eye, and dying in a duel was the last thing you wanted.
''Wait, you want me to go along without even having a plan? You're crazy! He'll shoot everyone before Gyro even pulls those balls out of the holster.''
''Listen, we gonna ambush him. I'll take care of that, you go talk to him with Gyro and Johnny. While you do that, I'll finish him off. Four against one. Are you fine with this?''
''You'll take his back?'' Johnny questioned Hot Pants' plan. ''You can really do that?''
''He's not a sleeping cat, you know...'' Gyro added but was immediately interrupted.
Between you, Gyro and Johnny, a shapeless mass of flesh emerged. Hot Pants had pulled out a device, a kind of spray, whose content resembled a thick foam that fused with the skin of his hand, throwing it towards the roof of the house. Dry branches resounded, cracking under Cadichon's clattering hooves, and you couldn't blame her for being startled.
''What the hell is this?!'' You questioned, frowning. ''Your hand... is... How? Are you also a stand user?!''
Gyro and Johnny looked as puzzled as you were, but at least they had a little idea of what was going on.
''Cream Starter... my hand will get behind him.'' The man explained, looking directly at you with those oddly pink eyes. ''Now, go talk with him... get this over with, and let's leave.''
You didn't have much time to think about it. You heard the sound of a shovel digging into the earth. The strange man was burying Gaucho. At least a decent burial, you thought. But you hoped four more pits weren't needed in that yard.