A dusty trail, dusk. The coach is stopped.
Dusty has his 6 shooter trained on the occupants, hands up, in front of him.
He has just told them to "Stick em up".
From behind, from behind the coach, a big stealthy naked wild black figure, his cloak doffed to the ground, is upon him knife at his throat.
General B N: "Gimme one o ese for our rites n I don't eat you."
Dusty: "How bout their money?"
Gen B N: "We don eat money."
Dusty: "Deal. Take her," motioning to Power.
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