Qeya River Tumbleweed

It was the sweet-voiced Amalia that found him. Reno cursed internally, pissed that Colt hadn’t gotten there first. He figured he’d hold off on many details, if he could. The group was small, and they could use members, hunters, fighters. It wouldn’t make much sense if they drilled him with questions at the border. At least, he would hope on that much.

Howdy, miss Amalia, he offered to her in a rugged tone. Reno’s features were shifted into a familiar crooked smile. She still looked fit and happy. It boasted well for the home that she had picked for herself.

This is yer home then, hm? See I smelled a friend on your border here… man by the name of Briggs. Mangy fella, chews on this grass and spits this yellow chew out. Red eyes. Was curious if you’d seen a scoundrel like that? The smile remained. His golden gaze was fixed on her features, squinted and studying.