This is what comes of reading True Grit and Roman history at the same time.

I had a really long, really intense dream last night that was incredibly cinematic. That was strange, because I generally don't have dreams like that - where you're watching yourself as if you're a character on the screen. Unfortunately I can't remember most of it by now, though when I woke up it was fresh enough to remember the very end. It was True Grit era, and I wasn't Mattie but I expect it was someone similar. I was with a small band of tough characters, looking for a band of even tougher characters. Our gangs met up unexpectedly and there was a large shoot-out. There was a lot of blood-loss on our side and it soon became evident that we wouldn't win - I ran through the dust and noise towards the forest, where I hoped I could hide out in the trees until it was all over. Apparently I wasn't incredibly brave. There was a young fellow from my group who was wounded but well enough to run, so I took him with me. I think we were the only ones left, because the bad guys all took to chasing us. We reached the edge of the forest and Young Fellow fell behind a tree, holding his bleeding arm in place. I stood behind a different tree and took as many shots at the approaching party as I could, but it wasn't doing any good. Either I was a lousy shot or else the bandits were bullet-proof. (One is easier to believe than the other.) Here, the view of my dream changed from being an observer to actually being there (as myself.). It felt incredibly real. Suddenly it occurred to me that these bandits wouldn't just kill us - they would mutilate us, and do all sorts of terrible things that I didn't even want to consider. There was no way out. Without saying a word, I turned to Young Fellow, who still lay by the tree whimpering in pain, and shot him in the head. It was an act of mercy. The bandits were within ten yards and hot tears blurred my vision. I pressed the gun against my own temple and exhaled - the breath was long and slow, and for a moment it was the only thing I could hear. Then, click. Nothing happened. I had run out of bullets.