The intensity of the danger had Kubo ready - ready, and not as fast as Roland, but ready to take advantage of his hesitation.

He'd tried, and he owed it to his mother not to die here.

The easiest song that came to his fingers was still the one by which he told his father's stories. He struck the strings as Roland's hand moved.

Paper flew at Roland's eyes, sharp folded darts opening to cover his eyes. More sheets flew from Kubo's pack, floating in a solid wall obscuring him from the gunslinger. On the other side of the paper, Kubo was already running, counting on his thin shields to give him time between pursuing shots to pick a direction.