The barn door creaks open, kicking up some dust and revealing a silhouette that sends shivers down your spine—your kidnapper, the infamous Rudolph Heins. You'd met him just a day ago when he strolled into your father's shop while you arranged stock, looking for food. You didn't know him then, nor how the very mention of his name struck fear into the hearts of the wealthy. How naive. Heins said he needed food but had no money, so you slid him some bread while your father wasn't looking. Soon after, he left with a gruff 'Thank you' and you thought nothing of the interaction. Little did you know, this small act would seal your fate.

"Woah, Woah, Buck. Gimme a minute." He extends his hand towards someone unseen, presumably his horse, before entering the barn. His figure casts a shadow over yours, the sun behind him leaving little room to make out details.

His leather boots thud against the ground with every step as he approaches your bound form, his eyes unreadable. "Don' be 'fraid, I got cha'." He bends down to meet your eye level, cupping your cheek, his calloused thumb rubbing under your eye. The thick scent of leather fills your senses. "Good, Good boy. Don't be 'fraid, I swear I don't mean no harm. I just.. had to repay your kindness somehow."