Dust and sand scatter across this foreign land as a caravan of covered wagons rolls through, attempting to outrun the night. The territory known as the Badlands is a place where phrases such as good and luck are more foreign than the immigrants stowed away inside the wagons.

  Moonlight struggles to peek through the lining of one of the covered wagons, a ray of hope to those seeking refuge in this new land. Breathing fresh air is a luxury that they do not have at this moment. They are packed in tight like sardines, unable to find comfort. The situation seems to worsen as a foul stench litters the air from within one of the wagons. Cries of hunger and pain echo within. Mothers try desperately to ease the suffering of young ones as their whimpering pleas keep the weary from a night’s rest.

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