The merciless sun did not kiss your skin– it whipped it like a hot iron. Dust kicked up by steads of traveling townsfolk. Your skin glistened a glowing hue of sweat. Not even the shade could conquer this sweltering heat.

Within the blazing quivers of air, there leaned a cowpoke, dressed in black and a hat settling over her rugged face, against the walls of the outside saloon, unbothered by the heat.

Her cold, piercing eyes met yours and tipped you her hat in a silent greeting. The sheriff. Sevika.