Gwenda had just come out of the bathroom after brushing her teeth and washing her face when she saw Vannyer frying an egg on the wood stove, shirtless.

The Shooter simply tilted her head to the side as she observed the agent's back, so smooth and bronzed that she felt envious.

The muscles moved as he moved the frying pan and spatula. His back was broad and well-defined, as if it had been shaped by a delicate and soft hand.

Then Ryxer turned to Gwenda and froze. They both stared at each other for a while.

— I thought you had already left — he said.

Gwenda snapped back to reality and went to one of her suitcases.

— Where to? — she asked.

Vannyer hurried to take the egg out of the frying pan and put it on a plate before going to his things and searching for a shirt.

He was already putting it on when he said:

— I don't know, you go to every place that comes to mind.

Gwenda couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

It wasn't unexpected that Vannyer wouldn't overhear Gwenda in the bathroom when he started frying an egg and humming softly.

As if he had read Gwen's thoughts, his face flushed as he sat at the table with a fork in hand.

— I have a proposition — she commented more to break the awkward atmosphere.

He didn't look at her or say anything before starting to eat, so she continued:

— Let's search for the fugitive from the explosion of Sector 6. We need to ask him some questions.

Ryxer glanced up at her.

— I don't recall us getting assigned that case. — the irony was apparent.

Gwenda clicked her tongue.

— If you help me find him, I'll cooperate with you and...

— I don't need anything from you. — Ryxer interrupted.

The Shooter simply watched the agent eat. Of course, he needed her. He specifically needed her, and she was asking for his help right now.

— Fine, then I'll do it alone. — she warned and focused on her suitcase again, looking for clothes to wear and taking off the nightgown she had on for sleep.

Gwenda heard Ryxer's sigh and the light thud of his fist on the table, as if he had just let his arm fall. Then she turned to him.

Vannyer was watching her, trying to find any flaw or lie in the Shooter's gaze. She just made sure he saw what he wanted.

— Alright. — he muttered — I'll help you. — and went back to eating.

— Great.

— But it's not like I'm happy to do this.

— That's okay — she replied, not really caring about his opinion.

— And I won't cover for you if anyone finds out we're deviating from protocol.

Gwenda almost laughed.

— Alright.

She heard his chair scrape as he grabbed the last piece of clothing.

— I won't hesitate to turn you in if anyone questions what we're doing.

Gwenda ignored him and went back to the bathroom without looking back. She closed the door, and silence welcomed her with open arms.

She wouldn't wait to see how long it would take for Sector 6 to capture the fugitive; she would go after him herself if necessary.

But first, she needed to know who he was. And that was in Kimer's sector, the documents of all the rebels who participated in that rebellion. And that Gwenda could handle.

The truth is, she doesn't know why she asked for Vannyer's help. Maybe she just wanted company, and even if it wasn't the best, he knew about the case and understood why Gwenda wanted to ask questions.

She needed to know about the poison, how the rebels got it, and who gave it to them. With that, she could unravel who the mysterious mystic was and then start her search specifically for him.

And if she encountered a satyr along the way, she wouldn't hesitate to capture him.

So she started to change quickly to begin her search.

----------------------------------------

Tomorrow would be the last day of the year, Gwenda's birthday, and she wasn't in the mood to celebrate the occasion as she had done in the past. Despite Raux urging her to rest and stop working.

No, Gwenda wouldn't stop, not even on New Year's. She was determined to spend both dates searching for the fugitive.

As far as she knew, everyone had died. Either by the poison or by the explosion that left several bodies in pieces, limbs separated and destroyed. But only one of them remained alive and with enough strength to fight and flee, without spending a drop of poison, Gwenda supposed, or he would be dead.

And so she began to pray that he hadn't ingested it and decomposed in seconds. She tried to guess if he hadn't poisoned himself just to avoid being pursued, but she didn't think he was that stupid.

— Here, — Kimer said, slamming the clipboard with all the papers on the counter in front of Gwenda, who set aside the bottle with the drink and began to search for a living body among all the dead ones. — I hope this helps.

— It will help a lot. — said the Shooter as she hurriedly scanned each piece of information. — If you allow me, I'll take the status of the live rebel and bring it back tomorrow morning.

— If my boss doesn't snoop around in these documents... no problem.

Gwenda didn't laugh or anything of the sort, she just continued searching with a plan forming rapidly in her head.

Then she finally found it, the information about the live rebel. Blond with light brown eyes, 20 years old, and without the label around his neck. Nowhere to be found.

Gwenda took the paper and handed the clipboard back to Kimer.

— Here we go — murmured Gwenda, smiling at the document.

She waited for Kimer to finish the morning's work, and the two of them left the bar together, chatting about cases and what Kimer had been up to in her sector. Just following orders, as her friend said.

— And what did she find about the book ‘The Beauty in Ancient Arts'? — Gwenda asked.

Just by the name, the Shooter thought it might have something to do with the ancient fighting techniques of the elf, but the book said nothing about that. It was more focused on inner peace. As far as Gwenda knew and from the information she had looked up in the books, the supposed ancient techniques were brutal and based on violence, completely different when it came to inner peace.

Kimer shrugged.

— She must be relishing every word. After all, she has her advantages when it comes to that.

— Did you have any contact with Sector 9 after the explosion? — Gwenda asked.

— Their boss called us for a meeting — Kimer shook her head in denial. — They left me out, I don't know what it might have been about.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Gwenda rolled her eyes. She didn't really like the boss of Sector 9, she never had. Her short, dry hair tied in a ponytail almost all the time was so horrible that Gwenda felt like approaching her from behind and cutting it with a dagger, making it so short that she wouldn't be able to make any hairstyles at all.

The wrinkled face always wrinkled even more when Gwenda appeared in her sight. And the Shooter always smiled so pathetically friendly that it made the woman turn red with anger.

She was the oldest boss of all the sectors, and the most relaxed one who didn't know how to do her job right.

Gwenda was grateful not to be completely allied with Sector 9, but rather with 6. Although 9 always got the majority of the cases and always solved half of them. Gwenda would solve them all, even if it took a long time. The point was not to give up, and that was the difference between them. 9 always ended up giving up, and the case was forgotten at some point, maybe even shredded and thrown away.

The young woman huffed, irritated just thinking that they didn't hand her the majority of the cases just because of what happened in the past. One day, Gwenda promised herself, her sector would advance and make 9 suffer the consequences of mocking Raux and everything Sector 3 stood for.

The problem between Sector 9's boss and Darcy wasn't her concern, but Gwenda already knew. She had always been on Darcy Raux's side and had agreed to get back at 9 along with the boss when the time was right. But in the end, Raux's entire sector should do it, for being humiliated by 9.

Kimer and Gwenda arrived in front of the Shooter's sector at the moment when most agents were entering after lunch and Darcy was saying good afternoon to everyone as she tried to leave.

Ryxer passed by Gwenda, and both of them stared at each other until he entered and gave up on eye contact.

Kimer tapped her arm and let out a sensual murmur.

— Is that your colleague? — she made a face as if she were admiring him.

Gwenda just rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to say something that would make her friend not comment on it, but someone shouted beside her:

— Watch out! — And pulled her by the arms away from the road.

A cart passed by at an unauthorized speed in the middle of the city. The shouts of women and men around were heard with perfect clarity.

But as soon as Gwenda laid eyes on the people in the cart, the world shattered into pieces. Everything happened in slow motion, and Gwenda felt her heart pounding fiercely in her chest and ears.

Trytan had wide eyes, his blond hair flying freely as he held on to avoid being thrown out.

Gwenda's mind became confused, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't look away and figure out who the other three men in the cart were.

— Go! — someone shouted, and the sound entered her ears muffled.

Suddenly everything returned to normal, and Kimer was in front of her, calling for Gwenda and trying to make her stop thinking so much and concentrate.

Her hands were still on her arms, so Gwenda shook them off and shook her head. But another pair of hands closed on her shoulders and shook her. Gwenda was about to curse, irritated, but gave up when she realized it was Darcy. She almost shrank. She would have regretted it so much...

— Matchstone! What are you still doing standing there?! — Shouted the boss and turned her before pushing the agent in some direction.

Gwenda noticed what was happening and started running towards the stable. The commotion was intense, and the sound of horses was gradually increasing.

The Shooter entered the stable and headed for Twilight's stall. But as soon as she arrived, she saw the horseman finishing saddling up. Then he turned to her and muttered:

— What would you do without me, huh?

Both clenched their fists and bumped them against each other, a way for Gwenda to thank him and encourage him.

She mounted her horse, and he swiftly exited the stall. Gwenda shouted for everyone to move out of the way and dodged other horses that were still being saddled by their respective owners. Many were already leaving along with Gwenda, racing towards the road, yelling for civilians to stay away and stick close to buildings and houses.

The horseman was tasked with saddling Gwenda's horse first, the fastest among all, in case of a sudden conflict. Then he could help the others.

That was his job, and in seconds, everything was ready. They would never find someone else capable of doing it as well as he did. And Gwenda was glad that she was the one who needed this treatment the most. Formerly, Gwenda used to ride bareback to save time.

At first, it was difficult for Twilight to get used to Paulo, the horseman. He was a docile and calm horse, unlike Gwenda. But Paulo himself said he couldn't saddle a horse he didn't know, so in the first few weeks he was working in the stable, it was just to get to know the horses, especially Twilight. And that irritated Gwenda, the fact that Paulo wasn't good enough and couldn't do his job. She talked to him several times, but Paulo couldn't get his own idea out of his head.

So she forced the horseman to do his job right, but when she needed Twilight, Paulo was still saddling him. She vaguely remembers all the times she pushed the saddle off the horse and mounted bareback before taking off.

But other than that, when she apologized for the way she treated him all that time, they started to understand each other, and everything fell into place. Gwenda understood how he worked and that he needed time, until it started to have some effect after all those months just getting to know Twilight.

They became great friends, even though she never had time to meet him. And when she made an opening between jobs, there was no shortage of topics to discuss.

Now she was chasing after another man she tried to forget a few days ago. She was still shouting for civilians to stay in the corners while Twilight and the other horses bolted through the entrance, kicking up dust. The cart was getting closer, and the Shooter didn't really know what she would do without her weapon, but she would figure it out, she always did.

There was a beige sheet at the men's feet, with something underneath that Gwenda began to suspect.

Please don't let it be a body. She prayed.

The sound of the horses' hooves on the ground reminded her that she needed to change Twilight's horseshoe as soon as they returned, to be ready for the next conflict.

Gwenda always tried to stay focused and not let anything shake her when it came to the job she was paid to do. But at the moment, she just wanted to understand what was happening and why Trytan. Why that man.

The road began to bend slightly to the right, and Gwenda was now close. Trytan looked pale as he tried to catch Gwenda's gaze, but she refused to look at him.

Twilight approached closer, and one of the men shuffled in place, searching for something under the sheet at his feet. Gwenda furrowed her brow, wondering once again what the hell that was.

The Shooter then looked at Trytan when she was close enough to jump and land inside. He shook his head slowly, and Gwenda's chest tightened.

The man who had crouched down stood up and positioned himself in the truck bed, now with a gun in hand pointing directly at Gwenda's heart. Her breath caught, and she heard Trytan shout a no before getting up and lunging at the man with the gun.

The cart abruptly veered to the left instead of continuing straight, and a shot rang out. Gwenda only felt the bullet burying itself in her shoulder and grunted before reaching to try to stem the bleeding. She managed to pull the reins in time, but Twilight knew exactly what to do and turned sharply.

Trytan was almost thrown out of the cart, but he landed sitting with his eyes on Gwenda again, a silent apology about to escape his lips, but then the other man shouted some curse and punched him in the face. Gwenda refused to flinch for Trytan.

The cart rolled over a stone, and the standing man stumbled over whatever was under the sheet and fell backward, hitting his back on the bench where he had been sitting initially.

Gwenda bit her tongue hard and kicked Twilight's flank with her heels. The horse responded with the fastest speed, his breath keeping pace with the movements. The Shooter took her hand off her shoulder to focus and placed her feet on the horse's back.

Trytan's nose was bleeding, and he tried to wipe it with the sleeve of his white shirt, without much success.

His colleagues were behind and getting closer with her, but still remained so far away...

Twilight shifted slowly to the right side of the cart, but they began closing it towards the civilians, and Gwenda needed to act fast.

So she jumped into the truck bed, changing the direction of the blow from the man who shot at her and punching his face with her uninjured arm. Then she directed his head with her hands straight into her knee.

Gwenda felt the man's nose break and then kicked him out of the cart, staggering and almost numb. He fell, and Gwenda turned to the other two men who hadn't gotten up from their respective seats.

Gwenda blinked.

Both were dead. Blood was dripping from their shirts.

Both had been shot through the heart at some point Gwenda hadn't noticed.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she looked away from Trytan while still standing. He seemed more lost than Gwenda when she looked at him again after seeing what had happened to his friends. The sparkle in his eyes began to dim as Gwenda thought he was apologizing for something foolish and meaningless.

— Bend down — She murmured over all the commotion.

But he didn't, and a tear rolled down Trytan's face.

Gwenda froze, and her heart beat faster.

He lowered his head, or rather, slumped forward. His arm outside the truck bed was beating to the rhythm of the cart's sway.

Gwenda felt dizzy seeing the blood on Trytan's back as his body began to slide into the middle of the truck bed, falling.

The scene around her whitened, followed by a curse, her vision blurred as she quickly went to Trytan and held his body so he wouldn't fall onto the sheet. Gwenda broke the arrow in his back and held his face.

His eyes were lifeless. His face no longer had any color. And his tears dried in the wind.

With a quick glance, she realized that the coachman was dead, leaning back and shaking with the cart's movement.

It was just them there.

Trytan and Gwenda in the same cart. She and the man she once thought would be her future. She and the man who didn't say goodbye. The man who, in the end, didn't call her one last time.

And, again, she felt like a loser.

Her throat closed and ached with the choked-up sob, Gwenda blinked to ward off the wave of pain and shock that hit her. She put his arm inside the truck bed, holding his intertwined fingers tightly with hers and pressed against her body, for a moment she swore that none of this had happened.

She rested her forehead against his while holding his nape, pleading for anything Trytan could do to show that it wasn't the end, but deep down, she knew.

The cart's horses gradually slowed down, and her colleagues commanded them to stop. Gwenda didn't care about anything, trying to pull Trytan towards her and hug him amid loneliness and mourning.

Mourning for lost love. Mourning for the life lost and taken right in front of her.

And when the cart stopped, when the silence seemed to hit her, Gwenda knew he was gone.

It was just her there.

Alone.

Again.