>You waken to M nudging your side.
>You rise, shaking the dust from your hat and coat, and look at your amazing horse.
>Who is significantly shorter than you last remember.
>His saddle is comically large for his otherwise small frame.
>He was 17 hands high, a huge horse by any means. You had to get a saddle custom made, not only for his size, but for the multiple pockets and holsters.
>Everything you need to survive is attached to that saddle, or to yourself.
>And now your workhorse is about the size of a p0ny.
>He is so tiny!
>You let out a chuckle.
>”What the hell are you laughin about?”
>Oh. Right. M can talk now. Now you can have conversations with your traveling buddy.
>Let's get this show going on a good note.
>”Hehe. You're short.”
>Great start, Anon.
>”You smell funny” M lets out a grin
>You sniff yourself. The aromas of gunpowder, whiskey, and burned leather grace your nostrils.
>”I don't smell funny, I smell great.”
>M simply stares at you.
 
>You look around at the trees, and take in your surroundings
>This appears to be a forest, and even though it's day, there's not a whole lot of light coming through the treetops.
>”So. Why are you short”
>He simply shrugs
>”Ok then. Why can I understand you?”
>”I have no clue. This land feels different though than the other places we've been. I feel more alive here than I have anywhere else.”
>”So, do you have any idea where we are?”
>”How the hell should I know? Last thing I remember is you screaming like a little girl before we exploded”
>”Hey, you try being lit on fire and tell me if you dont start hollerin like a fool.”
>You approach M, and grab your compass off the saddle.
>It may not be much to go off of, but usually north-west is where civilization is.
>When did you decide that?
>Well, we are already facing that direction brain, and I'm far too tuckered out to turn around.
>You hop in the saddle.
>M lets out an exacerbated groan, and collapses.
>For the third time today, you hit the ground.
 
>”You've gained weight, Anon.” M groans as he gets up.
>”No, you've lost strength.” you rise yet again, and dust yourself off.
>Your saddle lies on the ground in a crumpled heap of leather.
>Lifting it, you place it on M's back.
>”Thanks, partner.”
>”Don't mention it, buddy.” Maybe your horse being able to talk is a good thing.
>You wouldn't have to talk to yourself anymore.
>”So I guess I'm walking then, huh?
>”Yep. Unless you lose a load of weight in the next 6 seconds, I ain't gonna be able to haul your heavy ass around.”
>You look at your gray coated friend.
>”I already told ya, I ain't heavy, you're just weak.”
>”Look, we ain't getting anywhere by arguing, lets just take off thataway, and-”
>M is cut off by a howling in the wind.
>Instinct kicks in, and you grab your lever action rifle from the saddle.
>You turn towards the sound, and spin your rifle one handed, aiming it at a rustling bush.
>You shoulder the rifle, and hold it steady towards the bush.
>A brown wolf lunges right at you.
>Without hesitation, you smack it aside with the butt of your rifle.
>As the wolf slides across the ground, you quickly tighten the finger screw on the loop of the lever, and repeatedly pump the lever, firing a shot per pump.
>The first shot went wild due to recoil, but the other 3 hit their mark perfectly
>Wolves never hunt alone. There had to be more of them.
>You look at the wolf's body.
>Is that yellow blood?
>”Behind you, Anon!”
>Whipping around, you see another wolf barreling towards you, and you release another 3 rounds into the target.
>You turn back towards M.
>”See? I have complete control of the situa-HRK”
 
>You are suddenly knocked over to your side, rifle flying from your hand.
>Tumbling with the wolf, you grab your hatchet from your left hip, and swing it into the neck of the wolf.
>Instead of a clean cut as you expected, your hatchet sticks into the wolf's neck armor.
>What the hell? Are those wooden pla- Oh shit, teeth!
>Your hand snaps up, clutching the dogs throat.
>Yep, that's wood.
>The snarling teeth are a mere inch from your nose, as you continue to push with all your might upwards.
>Suddenly, the wolf yelps in pain as it flies off you.
>You see M's extended legs where the wolf was a mere second ago.
>Rolling backwards, you jump to your feet and pull out your revolver.
>The wolf rises slowly, and shakes as if it were wet.
>As soon as your properly aimed, you quickly fire all 6 rounds into your target.
>The wolf crumples to the ground
>”Shake that off, you smelly son of a bitch.” you say through gritted teeth.
>You hear more howling behind you.
>Holstering your revolver, you leap towards where your rifle rests.
>Spinning yet again, your rifle is braced against your hip as you aim it downrange.
>”Come here you sons of bitches, I got plenty for all y'all"
>That is not true, Anon. You only have 3 shots left. Enough for 1, maybe 2 more wolves. Your revolver is empty, and Choppy is stuck in that wolf's timber plating.
>Fuck you, brain, I said I got this.
>”Y'all are as dead as a can of corned beef.” you growl towards them.
>M steps up besides you, and neighs fiercely.
>”You ready for this, M?”
>”You know it, friend”
 
>3 wolves show themselves.
>It's a Mexican standoff, except you're the only one with a gun.
>Time seems to slow down for a moment, as you calculate.
>Calculations complete.
>Now it's killing time.
>You fire the first shot, hitting the center wolf in the skull. He drops like a sack of potatoes
>Seeing their comrade fall, the other wolves charge.
>You fire the last 2 shots you have into the chest of the wolf closest to you.
>Kill what's close, so you'll survive to kill whats far.
>Dropping your rifle behind you, you lean down on one knee to draw the Bowie knife you have sheathed on your boot.
>2 more wolves show up to flank you and M
>Hehehe. Flank.
>Shut up brain.
>The wolf in front of you leaps towards M, who is in the process of spinning around to buck.
>There's a sickening crack of wood and bone as his rear hooves connect with the wolf's face.
>That hurts. You know from experience.
>It took you 2 weeks before you recovered from a kick of that strength.
>The wolf to your left leaps at you, and you stab your knife through its chin, curving the blade upwards to stab into the brain of the dog.
>Although the outsides of the wolves are well armored, their undersides are not.
>Your knife glides into its skull like a hot knife through butter.
>You hear another bone smashing crunch come from behind you,
>You don't need to turn around to know that some wolf is having a bad day.
>You wipe your knife on belly of the wolf to clean off the blood,  sheathing it afterwords.
>Looking back at M, you see him taking in the carnage, yellow blood everywhere.
>”That was exciting!” M clops his hooves together
>Wat.
 
>”M, did you just...” You stare at your horse, flabbergasted at what you just saw.
>He looks down at his front hooves.
>”Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit, I guess I did.”
>This land is strange.
>You pick up your rifle, and loosen the thumbscrew.
>Walking to the saddle, you open one of the pouches, and reload your revolver and rifle.
>After reloading, you approach the wolf that has your hatchet stuck in its plated neck.
>You now notice it's chest is heaving slowly up and down, as it wheezes, surprisingly not whimpering in pain.
>Kneeling, you pull out your revolver, and place it against its forehead.
>It looks into your eyes, into your very existence.
>”I'm sorry for making you wait,” you whisper into its ear.
>You gently caress its cheek as you cock back the hammer of your revolver.
>”If I noticed you were in such pain, I would have released you from your misery far earlier.”
>A tear falls from the wolf's eye.
>”Rest in peace, you deserve it.”
>And the wolf's life ended not with a whimper, but with a bang.
 
>You lean over the body of the wolf for a full minute before rising.
>”Anon, are you alright?” M walks towards you.
>You replace the spent shell, and take a deep breath.
>”Yeah, I'm fine. I just need a minute.”  you pinch the bridge of your nose.
>”I know you don't like to witness animal sufferin, and trust me, I can appreciate that,” M says “But you didn't know it was still alive. There was no way you could have-”
>”That's no excuse. You know my motto, and you know how I operate.”
>After any form of firefight or hunt, you immediately check the ones who have fallen in battle, and make sure none were still alive.
>You let others think it was because you were a ruthless, heartless bastard who left no survivors.
>That isn't the reason though.
>You do it so you can bring the sufferers to a swift end, and perhaps give some last words to those who could still hear them.
>You take comfort in the fact that you did not cause those to suffer unnecessarily before passing.
>Leaning down on one knee, you lean your head on your rifle, close your eyes, and begin to pray.
>You aren't a religious man yourself, but you still pray for a safe journey for those recently departed.
 
>After a minute, you rise, and snap your fingers.
>M trots towards you, saddle on his back.
>Time to check yourself.
>Revolver?
>Loaded and ready.
>Hatchet?
>Clean and sharp.
>Knife?
>Same as the hatchet
>Throwing knives?
>Sharp and gathering dust. When was the last time you used these again?
>You vaguely recall a drunken throwing knife competition that you were kickin ass at.
>You then remember a patron of the saloon getting far too frisky with the barmaid.
>Your next throwing knife ended up in his temple.
>You ended up losing the competition because that counted as a throw, but you also ended up winning the girl.
>The bartender payed for your drinks as well.
>Good night, all in all.
>Smiling at the memory, you clap your hands together, and begin walking in a random direction, M at your side.
>You'll hit town soon enough. You always do.