Once upon a time, in a long-forgotten land where chaos ruled, a wasteland thrived by one brutal decree: "kill or be killed." In this desolate, unforgiving terrain, rode a lone wanderer named Red Silvers.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, it bathed the vast expanse of the deserted valley in a rich, golden hue, transforming the eerie tranquility into vivid life. The rugged terrain extended as far as the eye could see, with towering sandstone cliffs rising like ancient sentinels guarding a realm lost to time. The silence was pierced by the distant cries of vultures soaring high above, and the mournful wail of the wind as it swept across the trenches.
He dismounted from his trusted steed, a snow-white horse as swift as the wind, and whispered in her ear, "Well, Luna, we've arrived. I'm grateful for your unwavering loyalty and I'm grateful that you never let me down." Tenderly, he removed his bags and saddle, locking eyes with hers. "You're free now, Luna, and it has been an honor to call you my mare." He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, he gave her a gentle pat and Luna galloped away into the night, her white coat gleaming in the moonlight, as if she understood their journey had reached its end.
With a somber expression, he set up a campfire, settling down to admire the full moon's glow and the crackling of firewood. Retrieving his .44 Magnum from his hip holster and his nearly empty whiskey flask he took a sip. "Who am I?" he mused, taking another sip. "Where am I going?" The last sip drained the flask, and asked "How will it all end?" He tossed the empty flask aside and checked his Magnum. "Odd," he said, "just one bullet left in the chamber." Raising it to his lips, he pondered aloud, "How will they remember me?" Then a thunderous bang echoed through the valley marking the end of Red's journey.