"I went once. Training expedition. It was pretty brutal. Imagine forty trainee 'slingers all trekking through the snow in blizzard winds in nothing but a pair of long johns and empty gun-belts. It was the half-way point of our training, we were graduating to our first guns, only if we made up to the cabin. Our tutors had been choppered up there, and they were sitting around laughing by the time we got in there. I was the second to go in. Right behind the golden boy, Ralph."<br/>Terrence seemed to look back at this otherwise harsh memory with a sense of fondness, a dark fondness, but fondness nonetheless.<br/><br/>"It's kinda funny. Ralph was the golden boy of the 'slinger academy, yet in our first big fight, he copped a rifle bullet right through his skull. It missed mine by milimetres. It actually shaved off a big line of my hair. Ralph may have been the best gunslinger, but in the end blind, dumb luck rewarded me and not him. That's the day I learnt how little skill can count for anything if you're out of favour."<br/><br/>Most would find it difficult to summise just how Terrence could look back at this with the non-chalantness he displayed, though when they knew more about him, they knew his pre-fall memories were dust in the cold winds and he was only concerned with survival as it were now.