Nallik's head ached— he wasn't sure if this was due to the heat from the great tree's radiant fruit beaming down on him from above, or from the empty bottle that was clutched firmly in his hand. He tossed the bottle aside, and decided that the fruit, the atawm, above was to blame. There was only one thing that he knew would soothe the ache in his skull— another drink.

He stood up, stretching and wiping the dirt from his feathers as he did. Looking around him, he found no other bottles but the glittering remnants of the empty one he'd tossed aside.

"Guess I'm goin' t' the saloon." He groaned. He couldn't remember the previous night too well, only that he had greatly upset the barkeep. As he reached for his purse he remembered why— he was out of money. There'd be no drinking unless he made some coin— or stole the drink directly. 

Thankfully, there were several options, here. He could find an unfortunate newcomer to the town— those unprepared for the lawless city, foolishly brandishing their wealth or traversing the precarious wooden walkways without even a revolver to protect themselves. He'd be doing them a favor by teaching them an important lesson; in Pokawalan, you're never safe. This plan hinged on actually finding a newcomer, however— and in many cases, beating someone else to the punch.

He'd be guaranteed to find a mark if he robbed a business— though he'd have to be careful to find one he never visited. Best not to spill blood where you eat, after all. Most businesses in Pokawalan were armed to the teeth, however, and those that weren't were quickly taken over by one of the city's many gangs— and guarded. 

There was always the simplest option— stealing a drink from the saloon. This was also the riskiest by far, as not only was the barkeep armed— but so, too, were all of their patrons. There was an unspoken rule in Pokawalan— never steal alcohol from a saloon. Everyone needs a drink, and if you steal one— you're not just stealing it from the saloon, but from the lips of its patrons, too.

He stroked the feathers at the front his neck as he mulled over his options, tugging a bit too harshly as he struggled to pick just one mark. He stopped after his hand jerked forward with a loose feather in its palm. What if he didn't have to choose just one? What if he could find a mark that fit more than one of his usual options? Certainly, this would be lucrative— and after another moment, he knew just who to target.

Llowaah Taah— a newcomer who, despite having just arrived, set up some sort of knickknack shop within hours of entering the lawless city. The night before, Nallik had overheard a pair of bandits belonging to the Wapillam gang complaining quite loudly about the newcomer, and how she'd failed to so much as ask their gang if she could set up shop in their territory. If Nallik had to guess, the Wapillams had either already delivered their brand of "justice" to the hapless merchant, or would do so before nightfall. He'd have to act fast in order to get his cut before they did— and he hoped they hadn't. 

Something bothered him, however— what sort of fool sets up a store as soon as they enter Pokawalan? Was Llowaah Taah simply desperate, stupid, confident, or all three? Stories of the lawless city were told all throughout Umqwam, surely she had at least heard enough to know not to set up so quickly. Most shopkeeps didn't start business alone, usually they either came in groups, hired muscle, or began after making local connections. If she was confident in her venture, this implied stupidity, or, if Nallik was unlucky— some hidden strength. He could save time if he assumed she was simply stupid, however, and leave immediately without so much as a plan.

He shook his head— safety was much more important than speed. Llowaah Taah was hiding something, she had to be. But what? Nallik couldn't be certain, and would have to consider several possibilities. If, in the end, there was nothing to worry about, he'd still be able to rob her blind regardless. He paced for a few moments, considering the possible situations. Wooden boards groaned in protest beneath him as he passed over them time and time again.

"Oh, quit yer complainin'." He said under his breath. "I need t' think." One particularly rickety board groaned even louder with his next step. He stomped on it in response, before hearing a crack somewhere nearby. Nallik elected to take his pacing elsewhere. As he saw it, there were two possible secrets the shopkeep was hiding.

The first secret, he thought, was that she was backed by a rival gang, and her sudden appearance was meant to antagonize the Wapillams— perhaps even to distract them from something else. The second, he suspected, was that she was independent, but not helpless against gang retaliation— likely a saawkamut. A spellslinger, here in Pokawalan with some unknown goal. A regular gun-toting shopkeep had no chance against a group like the Wapillams, but one of them magic gun freaks could certainly stand on their own.

If the first was true, the plan couldn't be simpler— he need only hide and wait somewhere nearby for the two gangs to clash, then he could swoop in and steal whatever he needed in the chaos. Perhaps he could even go after whatever the Wapillams were being distracted from. If the second was the case, however, he'd need to go in well armed— or figure out a way to distract the shopkeep long enough to pilfer some of her wares. 

After a few more moments thinking over the situation, during which he accidentally managed to pluck out yet another feather, he came to a conclusion; Llowaah Taah had to be a rival gang member. If she was a saawkamut, she'd have no need to pose as a clueless shopkeep— there were many other, more mobile, and most importantly, less dangerous disguises she could've assumed. It certainly wasn't impossible for there to be a stupid saawkamut— they were people just like him, after all—  but no one sang songs of the dullards.

There'd be no need to go in guns blazing, it was faster this way, anyway. He had his revolver, which— despite showing myriad signs of wear which included various scratches, dents, and even a mysterious stain on the once gorgeous wooden grip— had never failed him. He kept it in as good a condition as he could, though even he could admit that he had been a bit too rough with it over the years. He had a bad habit of wielding it as a bludgeon, gripping the barrel and striking foes with the butt of the handle. This, he assumed, is how the mysterious stain came to be. It mocked him as he gave it a disapproving glare.

Carefully, he loaded the cylinder, brass-coated bullets sliding into each chamber with little fuss. That is, except for one, which he fumbled with for a while before it fell to the ground and rolled away.

"Alright, enjoy yer freedom, I ain't wastin' time on ya." He said under his breath as he pushed the cylinder back into place. Five bullets would have to be enough, for now. If everything worked out he wouldn't need them, after all— they were merely a backup plan. He gave a parting nod in the fallen bullet's general direction, and set off towards his mark.

The atawm still shone brightly above when he finally came across Llowaah Taah's shop. It was an unimpressive, ramshackle thing. Her wares were strewn about a large red and white rug upon which she sat cross-legged, in the shade of a tan cloth supported by flimsy wooden rods that seemed as if to shake from the great effort of remaining upright. Nallik sighed, it really wasn't the sort of thing the Wapillams should waste their time with. Though, in their minds, every street would be lined by similar shops if they allowed even one to operate unbothered.

Due to its streetside location, thankfully, Nallik had plenty of hiding spots to choose from. Nearest to the shop was a stack of barrels he could easily hide behind— he need only wait for a brief window where the shopkeep herself was looking away. This would give him the quickest route to her wares, once the chaos began— though he also risked being seen by the approaching gang members, should they come from the same direction he had. He could, instead, play it safe and hide across the street in the tight space left between two strangely proportioned edifices— which also offered a means of escape, were things to go awry. Or, he could try and blend in with the crowd, and join a nearby group betting on a game of stakes. This would be risky, and its success hung on the reaction of the players once the inevitable altercation began.

Time was of the essence, and Nallik thought it best to hide behind the barrels. Before he could step towards them, however, the shopkeep looked in his direction— and waved. Politely, he waved back, and then leaned against a nearby wall and looked ahead, hoping to make it clear he had no interest in what she was selling. When he turned back, she was gesturing towards someone else, giving him a chance to get into position. Quickly, he ducked into the shadow of the barrels, holding his hat down with one hand to ensure it didn't fly off with the swift motion.

"An' now, we wait..." He said under his breath. One hand kept near the revolver at his hip as he crouched, hesitantly brushing against the grip as he breathed. He waited like this for what felt like an hour, quietly mapping out the patterns in the wooden planks beneath his feet. Just as he felt as if was beginning to understand just what the map below was attempting to show him, he heard a gunshot. 

"This is yer final warning, lady, pay us fer all the business ya've cost us, and pack yer bags!" Nallik peeked over the side of the barrels just enough to see what the commotion was. Just as he'd hoped, the Wapillams had come to harass Llowaah Taah. They were always easy to spot, as each plucked the feathers from the top of their head to show their loyalty to the gang. Hats were strictly forbidden, and those who complained about this rule found themselves given a shiny iron helmet, shortly before being thrown into a pool of water.

Five Wapillams were now gathered around the poor shopkeep, each brandishing a rifle or revolver. The largest of the group, a woman who wore a wide-brimmed hat on each shoulder, held a smoking rifle that was aimed directly at Llowaah Taah. "I ain't gonna say it again, pay up. Now."

"Oh?" The shopkeep stood up, keeping her hands in the air as she did so. "So, yer givin' me the boot, ain't ya?" She bent over to pick up the box that held her earnings, her back to the gang, as one of her legs rose— and a loud bang quickly followed. 

A bright green light erupted from her boot, sending the large woman and an unfortunate lackey who was standing behind her flying backwards.

"She's got a gun in er boot!" Another shouted, raising their rifle and shooting towards the previously helpless shopkeep.

Llowaah Taah was too fast, however, and with another flash she was in the air. By the time Naalik could see her again, she was behind the unfortunate Wapillam. "Not boot, buddy, boots." Before the poor soul could turn around, Llowaah Taah had raised the opposite leg, and a thinner green light shot forward, cutting through the grunt's chest. She then stared at the remaining two, who glanced worriedly at one another.

Nallik ducked back behind the barrels, breathing heavily. His revolver suddenly felt like a useless hunk of metal— not only had the previously easy mark been secretly armed, but she was also a spell-slinging saawkamut. Perhaps it'd be smart for him to cut his losses and run? He glanced at the fallen gang members, and noticed that the largest seemed to still be alive— and was reaching for her gun.

Nallik's reflexes worked faster than his thoughts, and quickly drew his revolver into place, numbly pulling at his finger until the trigger was pulled. Bang! A puff of smoke trailed behind the small, shining bullet as it sped towards the fallen Wapillam. She screamed, recoiling as she pulled her hand back with a scarlet hole in its center. Before he could realize what he'd just done, one of the remaining gang members shouted at him.

"Jus' who in the—?!" The distraction Nallik had provided gave Llowaah Taah an opportunity to fire, cutting the question short. She scoffed, kicking over one of the bodies as she turned towards Nallik, squinting.

"I'd ask ya the same— who are ya?"

"I'm...I'm here to rob ya." Nallik said nervously. Lying had never been one of his strong suits, especially when faced with someone as dangerous as this. 

Llowaah Taah gave him a confused glare, her beak lying open for a moment as she processed just what he'd told her.

"But— but!" Nallik said, stepping back and raising a hand defensively— as if his hand could do anything to stop a spell, or a bullet, from ending his life. "I ain't robbin' ya anymore! I see I was...uh...wrong!" This lie was easier to spin, it was true that he would no longer attempt to rob her— at least for now— but his reason for abandoning these plans was to keep his body decidedly not full of holes, rather than a more moral justification such as "justice."

Llowaah Taah approached him, and it took a considerable amount of effort for Nallik to not turn and run. The woman towered over him, and now he could see that she was Votaw— covered not in feathers, but rough black skin punctuated by white stripes on either side, and a nearly all-white head. Upon this sat a bright yellow hat with a hole at the back, through which a plume of fiery red hair shot out. She wore an orange yahavo— woven stone— dress, over which a bright yellow vest proudly displayed itself. This was all brought together by a bright red belt, and boots— matching her hair. As she leaned in closer, Nallik was forced to shrink back— her long, pointed, black beak threatening to puncture his very soul.

"Put the gun down, yer gonna hurt yerself." She said flatly.

"Oh..." He hadn't realized he was still holding the revolver, and now fumbled at the holster for an agonizing amount of time before, finally, the gun was in its rightful place.

"So, ya saw what happened t' the others here, and realized I wasn't an easy target. Am I right?"

Nallik nodded.

"What sort of idiot would outright tell me ya meant t' rob me? Did ya expect a reward fer basic decency?"

Nallik shook his head. "I...I don' really know wha-"

Llowaah Taah cut him off. "Clearly. Now, the Wapillams have somethin' tha 'longs t' me, and I bet this ain't gonna be the only shootout I'm in today. Yer comin' with me."

"Wha-"

"Don' think about it, yer clearly good at that, jus come 'long."

Naliik sighed, ignoring the insult. If someone like that tells ya t' do somethin' he thought, ya do it— even if they aren't holdin' a gun to yer head. 

"Alright." He said, cautiously— as if anything more verbose could end his life.

Llowaah Taah clapped him on the shoulder. "Alright, it's settled! "An' if ya even think of shootin' me?" She kicked Nallik in the shin. "I'll shoot ya down like the rest." With that, she finally moved away, and began towards the fallen Wapillam with the shoulder-hats.

Nallik finally exhaled, having held his breath the entire time Llowaah Taah had towered over him. This took a moment, and he nearly regained his composure by the time he heard her call to him.

"Git over here, we've got interrogatin' t' do!"

Nallik stumbled over a body as he picked his way towards the two women, finding Llowaah's boot firmly pressed into the Wapillam's head. 

"Now, I'll ask agin. Where is my hat?"

Nallik squinted at her. "Are ya...maybe...wearin' yer hat already?"

Llowaah Taah gave him a strange look. "...no? Are ya sure ya didn't confuse m' hair for a hat?"

The large Wapillam spoke up, between ragged breaths. "No....there's a bright...yella thing, on top a' yer head."

Llowaah Taah reached up, took off her hat, and stared at it. "Huh."

Nallik waited a moment, allowing her time to study the garment, before quietly asking. "So...is that the one ya says they stole?"

"No."

"So they stole a different hat?"

"...yes."

"Ya have multiple hats jus' like this one, and ya still got so mad about one goin' missin' that ya decided to take on an entire gang t' get it back?"

"Ok, fine so maybe the Wapillams didn' steal m'hat, ok? I was wrong! But we're kinda too far in now t' just..."

"Ya killed my brother for nothing!" Growled the fallen Wapillam.

"Exactly my point— maybe we jus'...go after 'em anyway because of all the...things...they've done?"

"Yer not from 'round here, are ya?" Asked Nallik.

Llowaah Taah shrugged. "Well, you are, maybe they's done ya wrong before?"

"I ain't never seen nor 'eard of this coward all m'life." Spat the Wapillam.

Nallik ignored the insult. "I know better than t' mess with 'em, but they've sure messed with plenty other folk 'round town."

"So we can probably figure a good reason, then?"

The Wapillam grumbled something to herself, it sounded to Nallik like some long-winded insult, but he couldn't be sure.

Nallik sighed. "They's done plenty wrong, killin', hurtin', robbin', I saw em throw some poor feller off the edge of the city jus' las' week fer wearin' an ugly hat."

Llowaah Taah gripped her hat tightly.

"It was nothin' like yers, thing was actually hideous."

The Wapillam grunted. "Lookin' at it felt like ya'd been kicked in th' gut, shot in the liver, an' then tossed in a freezin' river. Hideous. Yers is nothin' like that."

Llowaah Taah slapped her hat back on. "So we're gon' avenge they's who's been victims of the Wapillams...just...everyone but them."

The Wapillam attempted to rise, but fell back to the ground, still exhausted. "An' what 'bout me?"

"Yer gon' tell us exactly where yer leader's hidin'."

"Nah."

Nallik chimed in "Yes?"

"I ain't spillin'."

Llowaah Taah stepped closer to her, and pressed one of her gun-boots into the woman's head. "Yes. You will."

The woman grit her teeth. "If she figures I squealed— she'll do worse than you."

The boot pressed further into her head. "Are ya sure about that?"

A moment of tense silence followed, as Nallik saw a growing green light from beneath the boot.

"Ok! Ok! I'll tell ya where she's at! Jus...don't..."

The light stopped, but the boot stayed firmly in place.

"I don' know exactly where the boss is at— this time of day she could be in onea three places." She looked up expectantly, hoping for the boot to remove itself, sighing when it didn't. "Either she's by The Barrel— her fav'rit saloon, she could be playin' that stupid game with the sawbones, or she's takin' a nap at home— up in the old water tower."

Llowaah Taah finally moved her boot off of the woman's head.

"Oh, thank ya-"

Before the Wapillam could say more, she was kicked squarely in the back of the head— whether she was out cold or dead, Nallik couldn't tell, and didn't want to know.

"You know this place better, uh..."

"Nallik."

"Right, Nallik, where're we headed?"

Nallik stroked his chin as he thought, this time careful not to pull out any of his feathers. The way he figured it, they only had one shot— if Wapillam herself wasn't where they checked, she'd soon hear that someone was after her.  If there was a way to check two of the three at once, then they may have a better chance, he figured.

"Nallik, can you stop standin' there like a fool and just tell me?" Llowaah Taah was impatiently kicking the fallen gang-member beside her as Nallik was lost in thought.

Surprised, he quickly pulled his hand back— nearly pulling out yet another feather in the process. "Oh...uh— we go fer two of 'em. Sawbones is right on th' way ta The Barrel if we take the shortcut."

Llowaah Taah kicked the Wapillam one last time as she walked up to Nallik, and gave him a shove. "Well, let's git goin'!"

***

After about half an hour weaving between the sprawling edifices of Pokawalan, Nallik put his hand up, signalling for Llowaah Taah to stop, and pointed to a ramshackle edifice nearby. The building was a pitiful mass of wicker, with holes haphazardly patched with mismatched slabs of wood. If it could speak, Nallik was sure it would— somewhat ironically— call out for a sawbones of its own to fix it up. The pair could just barely hear the faint sound of conversation emanating from within.

"Ya think she's in?" Nallik whispered, crouching lower— as if doing so would make him quieter.

"She might, we should plan how we're gon' git in there. They don't know we're after 'er yet, so we could jus'...walk in, see if it's her, and then shoot 'fore she knows what hit 'er. Or, we could sneak 'round the side there," She pointed to a sizable gap on the side of the sad structure, whether or not it was a window, or a hole, neither of them could tell. "all quiet like, an' scope it out first. Whaddya think?"

Nallik stood up, and headed towards the door, gesturing for Llowaah Taah to follow. The smell of strong chemicals nearly made him throw up as he walked inside the clinic. Towards the back sat a lightly stained circular table with two figures hunched over it, lit by a wilted lamp. The figures were playing some sort of card game, though it seemed the game had taken a backseat to their current conversation— which Nallik and Llowaah Taah had just interrupted.

The figure on the left wore a white coat with various patches of varying color and material sewn over what Nallik could only assume were bullet holes and other tears. A red-stained wicker vest kept the coat in place. Spitting in their direction, he spoke "I ain't operating on anyone else today, get lost." 

The figure on the right, a large woman with broad shoulders and an even broader green hat, spoke calmly and coolly. "Hold on, we could always use 'nother player— y'all bettin' souls? Want in?"

The sawbones sighed. "I could do without losing for once, I suppose."

Llowaah Taah turned to Nallik with her brow raised questioningly. Nallik nodded— this was Wapillam.

Not knowing whether or not Wapillam was truly alone with the sawbones— or if the doctor was armed— Nallik decided that playing their game, and waiting for an opportunity to strike, was the best course of action.

Nallik nodded, and approached the table. "Alright, we'll join ya. How much're we bettin'?"

Wapillam chuckled. "The question ain't 'how much,' it's what— we're bettin' our guns." She gestured to the table, at its center were two admittedly quite nice guns that must have belonged to the sawbones and Wapillam respectively. Nallik didn't feel particularly safe giving up his only form of protection, and he didn't think for a second that Wapillam wasn't holding on to at least one other piece of her own. But, he was in it for better or for worse, now— and took out his revolver to place at the table.

Both Wapillam and the sawbones failed to hold back laughter. "Boy, what is that thing? Ya sure ya ain't got nothin' better?"

Nallik shook his head, and placed the revolver on the table with a sad clunk. 

"How about the lady, ya got anythin' better'n that?" 

Llowaah Taah patted herself down, and shrugged. "Nothin'."

Wapillam's beak moved for a moment, chewing on the air, before responding. "How 'bout yer hat?"

Llowaah Taah's eyes narrowed. "No."

Wapillam chuckled. "I can see why ya'd be so hesitant t' part ways with a hat like that— how's about I put another onea my pieces on the table?" With a thunk, a rifle made of polished silver and gold was added to the pile at the center of the table. Nallik could see himself in mirror-like sheen of its barrel, and had to reposition himself slightly to keep the reflected light out of his eyes. It was the nicest looking gun he had ever seen— suspiciously nicer than anything else on the table, what was the gang leader's plan?

Even Llowaah Taah couldn't deny the gun's allure, as much as the proposition bothered her. "Alright, fine." She slowly pulled off her hat, revealing a tousled tuft of red feathers beneath, and gave her beloved headgear a parting glance before placing it gently on top of the pile.

The sawbones gave Wapillam a curious glance. "Just what are you planning here?"

Wapillam laughed. "A game!" She took a deck of cards from the table and began shuffling once Nallik and Llowaah Taah were seated. "We're playin' a standard game of Feathers, got it?"

Feathers is a particularly popular card game found throughout Umqwam, played with a standard deck of cards. Each player is dealt 6 cards, 3 for each hand. These are their "feathers," and when a player loses all of the cards from either hand, they are out of the game— as if they had lost the feathers from their wings, and fallen to the ground below. Each turn, a card is pulled from the deck and placed at the center of the table. Players can choose to play cards from either of their hands, gaining a feather for every card that matches the suit of the card on the table. Gained feathers go to the respective hands the cards were played from.

If the next player wishes to play their own cards, they must now match the topmost card on the table— played by the previous player.

Perfect matches double the feathers gained, aces allow players to draw another card from the deck and place it on the table, jokers are free cards, while kings and queens both allow players to remove the topmost card from the table and place it back into the deck.

This was a game that Nallik was all too familiar with, one he had played many a time for drinking money. It was also one he knew how to cheat, and he recognized now what Wapillam's plan was. As she shuffled, she was careful never to tip her arms downwards. Concealed within her sleeves, Nallik was sure, were pairs of aces, jokers, and kings. All she needed was a momentary distraction to retrieve them, or, if she was deft enough— she could cause them to slide into her hand as she dealt her own cards. 

The question now was, how long would he let this play out?

Nallik looked to Llowaah Taah, who didn't seem to have noticed Wapillam's trick. She was sat with one leg crossed over the other, in such a way that one of her gun-boots was aimed directly at Wapillam, its barrel concealed with the collaborative efforts of her boot's coloration, and cover from the table. If she noticed something, or if Nallik signaled her, she would certainly be ready to act.

For now, then, it seemed best to wait. There was still the matter of the sawbones, who Nallik wished to lull into a false sense of security before any fighting could begin. And so, he sat with a sigh as Wapillam dealt everyone their cards, and the game began. First up was Nallik, then the sawbones, Wapillam, and finally Llowaah Taah. It went without issue for the first several rounds, save for the sawbones, who had somehow managed to lose all of his feathers by round 8. During this time, Nallik had managed to draw and play a joker— meaning Wapillam must have only kept one to herself, in order to avoid drawing suspicion.

A few rounds more, and Llowaah Taah had only one feather left per hand. "If I lose my hat, I will kill you." She growled.

Nallik wasn't sure if the threat was for him, or for Wapillam, and nervously glanced at the gang leader to see her response.

The woman simply chuckled. "Well, ya better git yer game together!" She flicked her wrist dramatically, and though the cards in her hand disguised it, Nallik was certain she had retrieved a card from her sleeve by doing this. This was all but confirmed as she played a joker, and sat back with a satisfied look in her eyes.

Llowaah Taah squinted. "Are ya tryin' ta taunt me? What's yer game?"

Wapillam playfully shrugged.

Now, Llowaah Taah leaned in. "Ya must have rust fer brains lady, cause this..." she placed down one of her two remaining cards on the table, landing with a resounding thwack. It was a third joker. "ain't addin' up."

"Wait just a min-" Before Wapillam could even think of reaching for her own gun— be it on the table or on her person— a bright green flash filled the room, and an ear-splitting bang rang out.

Nallik had mere seconds to act before the sawbones, or Wapillam herself— depending on where she was hit— could turn on either of them. He did the only sensible thing he could think to do— duck. His heart raced, threatening to escape his chest with each thump as he listened and waited for everything to come falling down around him. And yet it didn't.

"Well," the sawbones began "it's not the first time."

Nallik held his breath.

"You ain't gonna shoot?" Asked Llowaah Taah.

The man scoffed. "And end up like her? She may have been cheating me for years, but I ain't a fool."

Nallik could hear the sound of Llowaah Taah moving the guns above him away from the sawbones. He chose to remain for another moment, before finally crawling back out from underneath. 

Llowaah Taah tapped him with the butt of the shining rifle, which he gladly took and admired for a moment. The saawkamut snatched her hat back up, nearly hugging it before putting it back on, then grabbed Wapillam's other gun, and the sawbones' own piece. "She owes me this much, at least." She said flatly.

The sawbones cleared his throat nervously. "You're not going to leave me unarmed, with the body of a gang leader in my clinic, are you?"

Nallik and Llowaah Taah exchanged looks for a moment, before Nallik tapped the table with his old, trusty revolver, which was now all that was left. "It'll do ya well enough." After an inspection to ensure that Wapillam was well and truly dead, the pair finally left the clinic as the sawbones scrambled to gather his things before word got out, and his business fell apart.

As they walked, Llowaah Taah turned to Nallik, gesturing with her new guns. "I've no use for these things, I'm gonna sell em, then I'm on my way. Before I leave this forsaken town— whaddya think 'bout gettin' a drink?"

This was the best idea Nallik had heard all day— after all, it was what he had meant to be doing in the first place. "Of course, yes!" He coughed, embarrassed at his own excitement. "Uh, yeah, sure that sounds good."

***

With only a few misremembered directions, Nallik lead Llowaah Taah to his favored saloon, found two adjacent barstools, and sat down.

All the while, the barkeep eyed him cautiously. "Are ya gonna pay this time, Nallik?"

Before he or Llowaah Taah could respond, the doors blew open as if assailed by a great wind. Lit by the dimming atawm above was a large figure with a hat on each shoulder, joined shortly by other, smaller armed bodies. "Oh, he will."

Nallik sighed, and readied his rifle. He'd have to wait a while longer for that drink.