"Fools! You're all fools!" said Old Man Hill, as he staggered backwards out of the saloon and into the muddy main street of Longwater. The saloon's owner, Roy, was standing in the door, wiping his hands on his apron.

"Next time, pay for your damn drinks. Or else I'll throw you out again." Said Roy, much to the amusement of the patrons. Roy was a former slave, and spent much of his early years working the land of his master. He was already big and strong before running away to fight for the Union. Hill, even as drunk as he was, knew that fighting Roy couldn't possibly end well.

"I know what I saw, god dammit!" the old man drunkenly yelled. "The Devil's in Longwater, and we're all doom!"

The old man picked himself from the mud and nearly fell back in once his legs started to quiver. He righted himself and limped down the street back to his hovel.

Not known for much other than propping up the bar of Roy's Tavern, Hill was known throughout the town as a drunken layabout who begged, borrowed and sometimes stole the money he used for drink. So when he came face to face with the Devil, not a soul believed him. Even Father Stone, the local priest, looked at him with skepticism.

"Goddamn idiots, all of them." he muttered to himself as he reached his alley where had been allowed to sleep. Though he was drunk and dead tired, he was afraid of what going to sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the cold, black eyes of the Devil. Hill couldn't remember any detail about the demon except for his eyes. The Devil's voice was as cold as his eyes, but carried with it an edge of danger. He asked Hill his name, very politely at that.

Hill turned and ran as fast as his old legs could carry him back to the saloon. He got back to his favorite bar stool and told everyone what he saw. A week had past since that night, and the town had been laughing at him ever since.

The old man sat down on his thrown away mattress, wondering if he should try going to sleep again. He almost didn't hear the running feet and the panting breath until it on top of him...
----

Gene Silver woke up with a start, having been shook awake by Sheriff Wilcox. Ever since his mother died, Gene had taken to sleeping at the Sheriff's office rather than go home.

"Get up, son. There's been a murder." was all the old Sheriff said. The deputy nodded and began pulling his boots on.

A harsh wind lashed at Julia’s bare arms and face, and the smell of a hard, chilly rain cling to the air. Daylight was fading fast. Thick, roiling storm clouds blocked what would have been another gorgeous sunset. Julia frowned. From the hills she spotted a small frontier town, nothing more than a few dozen or so houses and buildings seemed to make up Longwater. The rumors surrounding the place had regretted mentioning how small this town was. An unusually chilly gust of wind sent shivers running through Julia’s arms and back. Clicking her tongue, she urged her horse along and down into the valley.

It was unusually quiet, she noted upon entering the town. Her horse was twitching and seemed agitated. More than once she had to pull back on the reins to get him quiet. Julia found the inn easily enough. After dismounting, Julia pulled an apple out of her satchel. She rubbed Anna’s nose and feed her the apple. She seemed appeased but Julia knew better than to assume considering the last time she had the fool animal had nearly lost her cart.

Out of her satchel came a small black vail. Popping the cork she waved it under the dappled grey’s nose. Anna’s pupils went large then dilated to pinpricks. The horse’s head Hung and her eyelids drooped. Julia patted the horse’s nose and chanced a smile before going climbing the rickety stairs up and into the inn.

"Hey, it's mornin'," came a voice from just inside of Joshua's tent. The man, who Joshua quickly identified as a fellow layman, probably the guy in the next camp over, shook the canvas opening to make a little noise before Joshua grunted his acknowledgment. Morning, was it? If someone had come to wake him up he'd probably overslept. That wasn't like him. Joshua groaned and sat up rubbing his head. He recalled hearing some commotion move past the campsite in the dead of night, heading into town. Not really his concern, but it had woken him up with a bit of a fright. Took some time getting back to sleep after that.

It was a few minutes later that Joshua Addair - former local, current traveler with a stick up his ass - emerged from his litte spot outside of town where he'd been camped with the rest of his co-workers. The whole company was currently employed by the foreman (staying at the inn of course, the dick) who was in turn employed by said inn's owner to expand their lodging operations. Lot of folks coming through Longwater lately, apparently.

Joshua rubbed at his head before replacing his hat and making his way into town. It wouldn't due to be too late to the work site, so he planned to skip making breakfast for himself and stop at the general store for some dried meat. As he walked he passed some kind of gathering by an alley way. On closer inspection, it was the local law and some bystanders. Some drunk die? Or maybe something more malicious? Either way it wasn't his problem. He certainly hoped the town wouldn't devolve into a place rife with murder, but he couldn't help but think back to who or what ever had rushed past the construction company's last night...