The saloon’s door creaked open as the stranger limped in. His boots left wet**,** black trails across the dusty floor. No rain outside**.**

The patrons froze, eyes narrowing. The sheriff rose slowly.
“You lost, friend?”

The stranger didn’t answer. His** **breath came in rattled gasps**.** He slumped onto a stool, hat low over his face. The bartender slid him a drink.

Then the parrot on the piano spoke.
“Don’t let him leave**.**”

The sheriff blinked.
“...What?”

The bird’s eyes were human, dull and glassy.
“He buried me behind the schoolhouse, Sheriff. Still there.”

The room fell silent.

The stranger stood slowly, his shadow stretching unnaturally long.
The bird squawked again—desperate, pleading.
“Don’t let him leave!”

The sheriff drew his gun. Too late. The stranger vanished in a blink, leaving only black footprints and a cage swinging empty.