Spring had come early. The woods were alive with the sounds of rebirth. None of that mattered a lick to Becky.
To her, all was subsumed beneath an impenetrable shell of silence. It was an incongruous silence that bled dry the earth. It scoured away anything with the slightest potential to distract her.
Her scarlet hair was bound up under a kerchief. Her pale skin was concealed beneath layers of lamp black. In dark homespuns, she was an unseen wraith.
An incandescent bulb sprang to life within the cabin. She waited until the glow illuminated the face of the man who had taken not only her innocence but her heart and then cast her aside so casually.
Her first shot struck that handsome face and it vanished in a burgeoning cloud of crimson. Her second shot transited the bare bulb, extinguishing its light as easily as she had extinguished the light in her betrayer's eyes.