The two girls huddled together, trembling, their eyes still filled with terror. And the gunslinger, he sat there in silence, as if everything that had just happened was simply something that needed to be done. Outside, the storm continued to roar, but inside the cabin, something had just begun to change. The fire burned weakly, casting trembling streaks of light across the rotting wooden walls. Outside, the blizzard howled like it was trying to swallow the entire world.
Inside, there was only the sound of heavy breathing and a cold that refused to let go. The two Apache girls huddled close together. Even though their bonds were gone, they kept their distance from the man in front of them, their eyes sharp with caution, ready to react at any moment. The nameless gunslinger did not look at them. He quietly removed his gloves, dipped a piece of cloth into a bottle of alcohol, then stepped forward.
One of the girls flinched, pulling back, her hand instinctively searching for something to defend herself with. "Do not touch me." Her voice was rough, but still sharp enough to cut. The gunslinger stopped. He did not take another step.
Instead, he placed the cloth on the floor and gently pushed it toward them. "Do it yourselves." No force, no explanation, just a choice. A long silence followed. Finally, the weaker of the two reached out with trembling hands and took the cloth.
She clenched her teeth, cleaning the wound on her arm, then turned to help the other. The fire continued to burn slowly, but warm enough. "What are you going to do with us?" The question came after a long while. The gunslinger remained seated against the wall, his eyes fixed on the fire.
"Nothing." "No one buys people without wanting something." He gave a slight shrug. "I did not buy you." Both girls froze.
"Then what was that money?" The gunslinger looked up, his gaze calm to the point of coldness. "The price to get you out of there." The air inside the cabin shifted. It was no longer a transaction, no longer an exchange of bodies.
There was only one thing left, something they were not used to. Freedom. One of the girls stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to find a lie. "Who are you?" The gunslinger paused for a beat, then answered.
"No one." The wind howled louder, making the door rattle violently. Far away. The faint sound of horses echoed through the storm. They were not safe yet, and all of them knew it.
But this time, the two girls no longer looked at him as a stranger. But as the only man standing between them, and hell, the storm lasted through the entire night. By morning, the wind had eased, but the cold still clung like claws. The fire inside the cabin had burned down to glowing embers. The gunslinger was already awake.
He stood by the door, studying the tracks in the snow. Faint impressions of horse hooves slowly revealing themselves as the wind died down. They were being followed. He turned back inside. "They will be here before nightfall."
The two girls stayed silent. No panic, no trembling like before. Now in their eyes, there was readiness. They left the cabin as soon as the sun rose. Snow reached up to their ankles.
Every step felt heavy. One of the girls, the one with the sharper gaze, spoke, "We cannot move as fast as you." The gunslinger did not turn back. "We do not need to be fast. We just cannot stop."