It is nightime, the fire is burning and the food is cooking. Three mean-looking hombres come up to you. What do they want?
Wisps of smoke spiralled up from the bright fire. A net of stars hung over the clear sky lit up by the moon and a gentle breeze lifted dust off the ground. It was nearly the end of the day, finally, some rest. The mule was slumped on the ground, looking pleased with itself. My canned fire blurred what I saw, and the smell of my canned tomato sauce pasta reminded of the emptiness in my stomach. I heard horses far away, galloping to a random place. Then the horses sounded as if they were heading my way. Then before I knew it, they'd arrived at my little camp, three in total with a hombre sitting on each of them. As they jumped off their horse, their painted faces stared down at me menacingly.
"¡Hola!" I greeted the golden skinned men nervously.
"Buenos noches," one of them replied, he wore a frown on his face. "You are on our land." He told me with a heavy accent.
"Erm. ¡lo siento!" I mumbled, then gave up trying to speak spanish. "I didn't know, is it all right if I stay just this one night?"
"No. You are on our land," another answered, he emphasised the word 'our' and gestured to themselves as if he thought I didn't understand. What would they do if I don't move? Where else would I stay? The third hombre had his muscular arms folded, and was smirking at me. My sides started to burn from sitting next to the fire too long. I bit my lip and looked around my camp. The blanket, the fire, the mule, my backpack....the MULE!
"If you take my mule," I began slowly, watching their reactions. They narrowed their eyes, "Then can I stay here tonight?"
The muscular man smiled widely, pulled me towards him for a hug, nearly suffocating me in the process. "Now we talk business."
I bid the mule a silent farewell as the hombres rode away into the dark distance.