Thorn in the West
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 3: A Lesson in Shadows
The sun had climbed higher, baking the ridges to a hard, cruel gold. Mika Thorn pressed her left hand against her shoulder, trying to stem the blood and ease the searing pain, but it throbbed relentlessly. Every breath sent white-hot lances through her arm. Her revolver lay useless at her side.
She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to rise, but the world tilted sharply. Dusty light blurred into streaks of gold and shadow. Her knees buckled.
“Not ... done yet...” she whispered to herself, but the words dissolved into a soft moan as her vision darkened.
She fell to the earth, face-first into the warm dust. Her body gave up before her will did.
---When she awoke, the sun had moved. The desert smelled of juniper and dry stone, faint and clean. Her arm was wrapped snugly in rough cloth, bound with careful knots that held firm but did not cut circulation.
Mika blinked. The man—the teacher, the devil in glasses—was crouched a few feet away, leaning against a boulder as if nothing extraordinary had happened. His revolver rested loosely at his side.
“Ah,” he said, voice dry and amused. “Up again. I was beginning to think I’d have to carry you home myself.”
Mika tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Her arm throbbed, and a faint taste of blood lingered on her lips. She could only glare.
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