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No... A little bit of height and some rough terrain didn't scare her.
As she approached the base of the cliff where she believed the sniper had taken his shot, Rachel's eyes scanned the area for any signs of disturbance. She crouched down, her gloved hand brushing against the dusty ground. No shell casings.
Damn.
She looked up again, wincing against the sun. Then, she reached up, delicately removing her white hat and placing it on a bush, leaving it. The feathers gusted in the breeze.
She then scanned the face of the cliff. It was nearly a hundred feet tall at this point, the lowest peak she could see. She plotted a course even as Ethan came after her, his footsteps crunching through the undergrowth.
And then she flung herself up the side of the cliff, catching a handhold.
The rough texture of the cliff face greeted Rachel's fingertips as she began her ascent, her muscles straining against gravity's pull. The sandstone crumbled beneath her touch, creating small cascades of debris that tumbled into the abyss below. Her hands sought out each crevice, each nook and cranny, as if they were old friends guiding her way.
Her body moved with a fluidity born from years of experience, her limbs working in perfect synchrony as she climbed higher and higher. The sun danced across her glistening skin, casting a halo of light around her silhouette against the azure sky. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead, mingling with the dirt on her face, but she paid it no mind. This was her domain, her playground.
She could feel Ethan watching her, but she continued to stretch her limits. She tried not to let her mind wander to past memories. As a child, how many times had she gone hiking, or snuck out at night to go for runs in the forest after an argument with her aunt?
The dangerous terrain, the rough obstacles were a sort of sanctuary to her. The challenge, the rush of adrenaline, helped her mind to focus. For a moment, thoughts of Dawes faded.
Every muscle in Rachel's body seemed to come alive as she propelled herself upward. Her powerful legs pushed against the rock, propelling her forward with each deliberate step. The muscles in her arms strained under the weight of her body, but she held firm.
As Rachel reached a particularly treacherous section of the cliff face, a surge of exhilaration coursed through her veins. Adrenaline fueled her every move as she defied gravity.
"Shit, careful!" Ethan called out.
Small stones tumbled past her foot as she nearly slipped. She continued climbing, breathing heavily.
The higher she ascended, the more the world fell away. The distant sounds, from the road, where the locals still gathered were muted, replaced by the rush of wind against her ears. The view from this vantage point was breathtaking, a panorama of sprawling desert stretching out before her.
Rachel's fingertips grazed a ledge above her, and with a final burst of energy, she hauled herself onto it. She took a moment to catch her breath, her chest heaving as she surveyed the landscape. From up here, she could see the crime scene below, now reduced to minuscule figures on the ground.
Ethan's voice floated up to her, his words indecipherable at this height. But she didn't need words to understand his concern. She knew he was worried about her safety.
But Rachel had always been drawn to heights. It was in these precarious moments that she felt most alive, most connected to the world around her.
As she stood on that ledge, the cliff face continued its ascent, but she frowned, glancing along the ledge.
A hunter's eye was an interesting thing. She'd taken so many shots, from similar perches, that--within some margin of error--she felt as if she were nearly pinpointed in the spot where the sniper must've shot from.
And now, she scanned the ledge, her eyes tracing the ground. There was a trail cutting through the rock, leading up to the plateau. She didn't take the trail, though. She could see footprints on the ground at her feet.
Scuff marks in the dirt.
Rachel crouched down, her eyes fixated on the scuff marks in the dirt. A surge of curiosity coursed through her veins as she followed the trail, her fingers grazing over the rocky surface.
Her fingertips brushed against something hard and metallic. She felt a thrill shoot up her spine as she unearthed a small, weathered object. Brushing away the dirt, Rachel's heart quickened at the sight of a shell casing for a rifle. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut.
Who had fired these shots? And, more importantly, why?
Ethan's voice broke through her thoughts, his concern evident even from the distance. "Rachel! What did you find?"
She looked over the ledge, her gaze meeting Ethan's worried eyes far below. "Coming down!" she called out.
He gave her a thumbs up.
She scanned for the second casing, but couldn't find it. She new the trail behind her led onto the plateau which then led to an open road. Someone had know this spot...
Someone who knew the land as well as she did.
