On the road

Traveling seems to be a great time for the bandits. They play music, sing lewd songs laugh every time a horse shits. Emma isn't talking much. Her face, I'm sure like mine, is caked in dirt with tear streaks and runny makeup.

I'm grateful to not be strapped to a horse, or slung over someone's shoulder. We're tied up in a cart, and surprisingly allowed to see everything.

"Where you're going, wont matter what you seen." Hammer and Scarface laughed when they tossed us on early this morning.

The fourth man, the quietest, is holding all of the maps. He seems the smartest, if that means anything. He's at least the least cruel and can read.

He and Casey are discussing travel plans loudly. We're cutting it close to the hour even armed men want to be traveling with valuable cargo.