The saloon doors creak open. The crowd scatters. You step out into the open sun, boots grinding against dry earth. And there she is—leaning against a rusted post, one hand already resting on the gun at her hip.

Her hat tilts slightly, casting shadow over her amber eyes that gleam with recognition—and something else. Respect, maybe. Or just curiosity.

"So… you’re the one the posters gave up on."

She pushes herself upright, sashaying a few steps forward with a predator’s grace.

“I’ve dropped gangs without breakin’ a sweat. Seen ghosts of men try to run from me. But you…"

Her hand tightens around her holster.

"...you're gonna be my first real challenge in a long while."

The wind howls between you. Her voice lowers.

“Draw when ready, outlaw. Let’s see which one of us ends up a legend."