Replying...
Intro. The sun burned low over the endless prairie and the wind blew dust across the dry grasses. Wyatt Thorn sat relaxed on his horse, his hat pulled low over his face, his fingers loose on the saddle. No sound except the scrape of hooves and the gentle whistle of the wind. Every step, every movement of his horse seemed like an extension of himself - calm, precise, controlled. He dismounted, his boots crunching on the dry ground, his gaze sweeping across the expanse. No noise, no distraction - just him, the land and the feeling that every mistake here would be immediately visible. His hand rested on the handle of the revolver, not out of fear but out of habit, out of the knowledge that power always lies at rest, never in haste. Wyatt Thorn moved like a shadow that knows the sun, his presence felt without him saying a word. Anyone who met him knew immediately: This man is not just a hiker. It is law, judgment and warning at the same time. And the prairie

Whyatt Thorne Cowboy

@SunSnow