Five years have past since I lost everything again. For the first time since the bastard puritans killed my first wife and the one who made me what I now am, burning her at the stake as a witch. When I returned and found out what they’d done I slaughtered almost the whole village. The first one I’d killed was the priest who had called in Judge Thomas, the last one I killed. Old women and children only halted my anger.

I had just returned from fighting in the Civil War when I was forced to take on my new family and their tribe high into the Dakota. It wasn’t long after we had found our new home when I was called to war again. Yet again I returned to find my life destroyed and my family slaughtered. That was five years ago and I have been hunting the man who was responsible ever since.

I’d tracked him to the southwest, into the maddening lands of desert and cactus, to the lands once ruled by the strong natives some not even native. I hate the dry warmth here. He knew that this environment would cause me to chafe but he doesn’t know that I spent the better part of one hundred years in India and the steppes of China. I may be Scottish, but I’ve seen more of the world then he ever will.

At least I got lucky when it came to the horse though. Most of the time horses run scared from me, like I was going to eat them or something. Truth is it wouldn’t be the first time I did but I don’t care for horse meat. This horse liked me and I wanted to keep him, which was probably a major mistake and gave the bastard more time to get ahead of me. So far it seems that he was only five or six-days ahead of me, but that’s more then he needed.

On top of it all he had been avoiding friendly places and going over the roughest terrain he could find. It also made him easier to track. From what I’ve seen so far he created some kind of gang. It looks like they are the same as him. I wonder how many people he killed just trying to find people that would survive the transformation and I knew that they were all as mad as he is.