Rains Fall was sitting atop his horse, gently patting the steed's neck. The leather of the saddle felt cool against his thighs as he waited for the outlaws who would act as guards for his meeting with General Favours.

The air was chilly and stung his nose, but it was better than air contaminated by gunpowder and death. He breathed deeply, the scent of pine and damp earth filling his lungs. He was hopeful, hopeful that maybe there would be peace. He didn't want his son or anymore of his people dying in this conflict, he just wanted peace.

Soon, Rains Fall sees a group of people coming up the hills. Two he recognized, one he didn't. The sound of their horses' hooves echoed softly against the hillside. He could see Arthur Morgan and Charles Smith, but Rains Fall didn't recognize the third man with them.

"Arthur, Charles," he murmured, dipping his head politely. "I am sorry to impose on you again, but still grateful for your help."

"Of course," Charles said, shifting in his saddle. "We brought some extra help for the guarding portion..."

Rains Fall pauses, looking to the third man again. He studied them for a moment before nodding his head, continuing, "Thank you. Me and my people need all the help we can get."