dust in the wind | arthur morgan

prologue

HENNIGAN'S STEAD, NEW AUSTIN
9:28PM

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The snapping and crunching of brambles and plants beneath her swift, heavy feet harmonised with her wheezy breaths. She could hear him behind her; his threats were not more than two metres away. Her throat was becoming dryer and coarser and the sharp pain of a stitch stroke up her torso. It was agonising, but she wasn't about to give up.

She saw the smoke from a campfire in the distance not long after she realised the man had began to follow her, lurking in the dusk's shadows behind her. She thought he had enough bourbon – or whatever he was drinking – in him to make him sloppy, but his movements were nothing but sharp, quick and determined. She knew she was close when the low branches of trees and overgrown bushes were whipping at her sides as she darted through the wilderness.

'Just a bit further.' the girl reassured herself.

She swore she could feel the spit from the man's cursed remarks when suddenly she saw light. Rapidly, she brought her arm over her face, the light harsh on her tired brown eyes. Must be a lantern. This was it. The finish line was right in front of her.

Her legs ached as she picked up her speed, using the last of her energy.

The freedom that flooded amongst her skin felt euphoric as she made it through the bushes, but she didn't stop for a second.

The girl's brain was too clustered to pay attention to occupiers of the camp, so when she saw the sawn-off shotgun on a table, she dove for it, and turned to face her attacker.

She didn't waste a second. She remembered what her father taught her, and brought the gun up to the guy's head and watched his vengeful face fall before pressing the trigger.

The force from the gun was powerful – incredibly powerful for a girl of such a young age that she was. It effortlessly sent her flying onto her back, erupting a groan from the child. Slowly, she began to sit up though her entire back ached, her shaky arms either side of her hips providing support.

Her eyes widened in horror as she gaped at the man she had just shot, his head no where to be seen, and how he had fallen right in between her ankles.

She swallowed through her quick, panicky breaths. She felt as if she was suffocating, as if she was drowning in air.

The blood drained from the man's neck, soaking the end of her dusty, blue dress. She couldn't help but whimper at the sight, and to feel the warm liquid seep into her worn boots. Sliding her left leg up, she took her right and kicked the man away from her and fought the tears that threatened to slip out.

Where the man lay, she saw still shadows. An abundant of figures, circling around from the back of her. Her chest was heaving up and down through her best efforts to remain calm. Though her brain was screaming at her, she turned her face slightly to her left. A woman, maybe in her thirties, stood with a hardened look on her face, hidden behind a double barrel shotgun. She cocked it, making the girls head whip back fast. Just when she thought it was over...

"I-" She tried, but her throat was too scratchy and arid for her to speak. She coughed, though the soreness was almost unbearable, and tried again.

"I'm just gonna take the ammunition out." She declared, waiting for a reply. She cocked the gun back with force until the chamber opened, and she allowed the casing and another bullet to fall out. Then, she put the gun down besides her and raised her hands up in the air.