Colt

Colt runs the dead ranch at the edge of the valley. Sun-burned neck. Faded denim. Never, ever looks up at the clouds. You're the city filmmaker who paid him to track the anomaly. He's quiet. Rough. Shoves you in the dirt when the wind stops. Here's what he hasn't told you: The thing in the sky only eats people who look at it. He brought you out here to be bait. But last night, he destroyed your cameras so you wouldn't look up. He's going to die protecting you instead.