Tyler rode cautiously. His spear was out of its case, laying across his lap. There would be no time to draw it if trouble came.

     And it would come, he was sure of that. Nothing yet, but Tyler's eyes were constantly moving, taking in his surroundings and never letting himself focus for too long on one object. So far, all he has seen were plants that got scrawnier and sparser as he went on. After a week of travel, he was entering the Wastes for real now. As he got further from home, the land grew less and less hospitable.

     Tyler glanced at the ground again hoping to see some sign that someone had been through recently, but as usual the only signs of passing he saw were his own. He sighed, expressing equal parts frustration and melancholy.

     Tyler had never known his father. Finally, after sixteen years of uncertainty and doubt, he had been unable to contain his desire--no, his need--to seek out the man who had been missing from his life. And yet, even now he felt no closer to finding him.

     Tyler had been raised by his grandmother, his father's mother. She would tell him stories about his father and the fall from grace Craig suffered. Tyler often made her repeat them, always looking for some clue. Some insight into his father's mind.

     Some way to approximate the face he was to remember.

     According to his grandmother, Craig had gone to the inner baronies to train as a gunslinger when he, Craig, was very young. It had taken a long time, and during his period of apprenticeship, Craig had met and married Tyler's mother, whom his grandmother called "a damned distraction," among other things. When Celia, Tyler's mother, had become pregnant, Craig decided he had put off his final test long enough. At the age of twenty-one, with a wife and a baby on the way, Craig took the final test to become a gunslinger.

     And failed.

     And so, with his wife in her seventh month of pregnancy, Craig had been publicly disgraced and sent West.

     Celia had died in childbirth, and so Tyler had been sent to Green River to live with his grandmother.

     And now he too had gone West. But this was his choice.

     Tyler caught the glint of gunmetal to his right and twisted in his saddle to face it, spear raised and ready.

     He heard the loud click of a revolver being cocked as a man stood from behind one of the larger scrub-bushes, barrel trained steadily on Tyler.

     The man was lean and weathered. His clothes were cut from antelope hide and rough cloth, it was obvious that he had crafted them from whatever materials had been readily available in the desert.

     "Lower that spear boy. You're far past where you ought to be."

     Tyler's fear was beyond words'--Hell, beyond thoughts' ability to express. But he did his best to hide it. He did not move the spear and inch and he kept his eyes locked on those of his aggressor. There was something oddly familiar about those eyes. It was like they had once been the same deep brown of his own, but had since been weathered and lightened by the sun. The strength of the voice that escaped the boy's terror-dried throat surprised both of them.

     "Cry your pardon, sai." Tyler spoke slowly, but with conviction. "But I've come too far to turn back around. I came lookin for someone and I aim to find him. If you ain't gonna let that happen, well, you oughta pull that trigger now and save us both some time."

     Tyler was startled at his own words, not only because of their clarity, but also their audacity. he resolved to enjoy them, as they would likely be his last.

     The man stared at Tyler for what seemed like forever. Without lowering the revolver, he spoke.

     "Who are you? And who are you looking for?"

     "I am Tyler Parrino, son of Craig. And the aforementioned Craig Parrino is the man I'm after."

     The man slowly lowered his gun as he blinked away the beginnings of tears. He spread his arms in a gesture of truce and welcoming.

     "I am Craig, son of Evan," there was a moment of silence as a grim grin broke on his face. "It's good to finally meet you, son."