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AFTER A few uneventful days, you found yourself close to the checkpoint. They were relatively relaxing days where you and Thunder kept each other company except for the occasional rider you'd have to shake off her trail. They probably weren't out to get you, but you'd always make a point to get away from them with your constant overthinking.
Sometimes, you'd stay close to the waterholes, gathering water and, if you were lucky, a fish or two. Thunder had always gotten her share of water and heavy brush she could eat. Being near waterholes was especially nice when it came to needing a bath. After a quick strip down, a dive in the water, and a bit of soap, you'd be left fresh and ready to go. Even Thunder indulged in a bath by the shore now and then.
Other times, you'd stay between the walls of the canyons, not a waterhole in sight. At some point, you found a passed-out racer with three canteens and took the liberty of taking one of the extras— you had pulled him into the shade and gave his horse some food and water before taking it of course— just to make sure you didn't die out of dehydration. Thunder appreciated the action just as much seeing as there was more water for her to drink, but of course, being near the waterholes was always much nicer.
Sometimes, you would find yourself staring at the night sky for hours on end, talking to yourself or Thunder. Despite making a point not to trust other racers after the entire Robert situation, you found it to be quite lonely. Being alone with your horse while in the fluctuating climate of the desert, you figured, would be much more invigorating with a few friends by your side.
But every time your conscience tried to make that point known, you waved it away, replaying the instances of your brother's death in your mind until the thought was replaced with fear. It wasn't the kindest coping mechanism but it got the job done. Occasionally, you'd think back on your other brother's injuries, fueling your fear and motivation.
Eventually, around three days had passed by and you had been free of any incident. You weren't sure what place you were in now but a part of you told yourself that you were decently high up in the ranks. The only person you saw who was clearly ahead of you was the guy she had taken the canteen from. However, some people did take that shortcut and followed after Gyro and Johnny.
Your mind wandered to the thought of them as you basked in the rays of the setting sun, heading northwest toward the checkpoint. Although you thought of Gyro as a prissy asshole after their encounter with the cork, you couldn't deny that he was...somewhat decent. He had saved you from those men and helped you to the inn so you could get help after all.
Johnny, though, was much more personable after helping you during the race. Had he not told you to calm down, Thunderstruck might have just lost it and thrown you off. Plus, he had tried to help you after getting hit in the nose with the spinning corks Gyro had shot. But back when Gyro had saved you, Johnny seemed sort of ticked off with you, like he didn't want to save you in the first place.
So, to you, Johnny and Gyro were on the same level. You didn't particularly like either of them and they were pretty much strangers to you yet they were prominent figures in your thoughts. After waving those thoughts away, you continued through the desert, spotting a waterhole that you and Thunderstruck could recharge at. The sun had finally disappeared when you both reached the small body of water, leaving you to hop off and Thunder to rush over to the water.
