Thorn in the West
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 2: The Teacher Who Laughed at Gunfire
The sun scorched the ridges of Painted Ridge, turning shadows into jagged lines.
Her quarry’s tracks were fresh—heavy boots pressed into soft sand, a stride too measured to be careless. She had expected a brute, a man made of scars and malice, someone who could only be tamed by bullets.
Instead, she found ... him.
He stood straight-backed, glasses perched neatly on his nose, a satchel slung casually over one shoulder. His coat was tidy. His boots polished. He looked like a teacher, or perhaps a man who corrected children’s spelling for a living. And yet, when he saw her, he smiled—a calm, polite smile that made her instinctive readiness twitch.
“Miss Thorn, I presume?” he asked, voice soft but laced with dry amusement.
Mika’s hand tightened on the revolver. “How do you know my name?”
“Oh, everyone knows your name,” he said, shrugging. “You’ve become something of ... a case study in some circles. Mostly frightening ones.”
Mika squinted. East-pray, she thought, studying him. Too calm. Too tidy. Too civilized.
She raised her revolver with a smooth, practiced motion.
The man raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. “A revolver?” he said. “Classic choice. Brave ... or foolish.”
Before she could answer, the world erupted.
Metal flashed. Powder burned. A sharp, white-hot pain ripped through her left shoulder—her dominant hand—throwing her off balance. Her revolver slipped from her fingers and clattered into the dust. Mika fell to one knee, gasping, vision narrowing to streaks of sunlight and grit.
The man approached calmly, hands loose at his sides, and crouched slightly. “Left-handed, hmm? That’s ... inconvenient. And yet somehow charming,” he said, wryly.
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