A sunny day. A cloudless sky. Nothing fills the air except the warm summer breeze and the sound of birds. A typical day where they lived.

A gunshot rings through the air.

..Wenda’s hands are trembling, though she’s uncertain with what emotion. Tunner’s gun drops from her hand, and she clasps her hand over her mouth. It’s hard to tell if she’s covering her mouth in shock or trying to hide her wide, unnerving grin.

There’s a body on the ground. Tunner’s body. Blood was such a rare sight around these parts, and it invigorated her.

..She’d shot the sheriff with his own revolver, wrangled from his hands in an unruly scuffle after he’d questioned her behavior as of late just a little bit too much. He was too protective. He had to go. He was a liability.

..Wenda lets out a muffled laugh into her hand, her tail whipping back and forth.

She doesn’t hear the grass rustling behind her. She doesn’t notice the footsteps.