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Charlotte woke up when it was still dark. She blinked sleep out of her eyes and shifted, the tent rustling as she moved in the cramped space. All seemed quiet outside, which was a contrast to the way it'd sounded before she fell asleep. She wondered what time it was, but from what she could gather, it was the dead of night.

Her hands were still tied, which made things difficult, but she'd escaped plenty of times. She crept forward, crawling on her elbows, and slowly pulled the tent flap back. The camp was all but deserted. It was a perfect opportunity to make her escape.

Silently, she crawled forward and out of the tent. After a few failed attempts, she stood, looking around. Everyone else seemed to be asleep by the dying fire.

Charlotte wrestled with her tied hands, but they didn't budge. She didn't have time for this; the camp wouldn't stay quiet for long. She took a deep breath. She had to make a run for it, she decided. Maybe she could get back to Sagebrush by sunrise.

Before she headed back to Sagebrush, Charlotte thought it would be best if she had her hands free, so she continued to pull at the ropes binding them. Surprisingly, she made some headway and felt like she could almost wiggle free.

Charlotte was so intent on trying to get her hands out of the ropes that she didn't hear anyone coming. And by the time she did, she was staring down a gun barrel, the metal glinting in the firelight.

Charlotte let out a small gasp, then stuck her bound hands up as best she could. "I'm sorry, you're right, this was not a good idea. I won't try to escape. I'm done." She squinted at the shadowy form, a girl who didn't look too much older than she was, but couldn't get a clear look at any details. Instead, the gun stared back at her, which brought back memories of the day she left Sagebrush in the first place. It all came back to her--the Marshal shooting someone, all the blood...

Charlotte wouldn't let her mind wander there. She dragged herself back to reality and started to scoot back towards the tent. "My deepest apologies."

((OOC: Rough draft. I might edit stuff when I'm not as tired, but it should mostly stay the same.))

"I don't have a death wish, but I don't appreciate being held against my will." Charlotte left her hands in her lap, giving up on trying to get free of the ropes for now.

Charlotte frowned at the pine box comment, opening her mouth to say something, but Abigail spoke before she could. Once Charlotte heard what Abigail had to say, she abandoned her salty retort, raising her eyebrows instead. "Really? Why?"

"Honestly? Not entirely sure." Abby holstered her revolver and took a seat.

"I'm just here to keep you from signing your death sentence."

"Well, you don't have to worry about me. That was my one time running away. I'm done now." Charlotte wasn't entirely sure if she would be able to keep from running, but she was starting to see the truth in what Abigail was saying. Perhaps it was better to just wait it out.

"Good to know." Abby looked Charlotte up and down, judging the gal to be true to her word. "We are gonna try'n an make contact with the friendly Marshal of yours soon enough, the boss says she'll help us out."

"The Marshal?" Charlotte's stomach suddenly went off kilter. "Um, isn't there someone else you could talk to?"

"Not unless you happen to know of another federal agent conveniently located within a twenty mile radius of this here tent. What have you got against her anyhow?"

"Nothing. It's just, I know her personally, and I'd rather she not see me in this mess." Charlotte bit her lip.

"I might not be much older than you, Char, can I call you that? But I've learned a few things in my time. For one, a Marshal ain't gonna give a rip about personal feelings when a girl's been kidnapped. It's kind of her job. Second, if she does care at all about you, she'll want you back safe and sound. Finally, a wise man once told me that moochers can't be selective in their choice of assistance, or something to that affect. So no offense, but we need her help, a badge carries a lot of power 'round these parts."

"You can call me that." Charlotte considered this for a moment. "I can respect that. I don't look forward to it, but I understand." She shifted positions, trying to relieve her cramped muscles. She didn't want to think about what would happen when she saw the Marshal and Jed again, so she changed the subject to the first thing she thought of. "What I'm wondering is, how the heck did a girl my age end up here?"

Abigail bit her lip, she was supposed to be the one asking the questions here. "It's a long story. Boring, really."