Prelude - The fateful night, Three years ago #

It was a hectic night and Amber and Max had been on patrol together. They had just gotten word of a robbery on a remote trail. They both set out on separate horses to see if they could investigate. As they arrived, they saw two people flee and another person on the ground with an apparent gunshot. Amber, who arrived slightly ahead of Max, kept going after one of the suspects, while Max stopped to render aid.

Max had quickly inspected and found that the victim was already dead by gunshot. He leapt back to his horse and ran in the direction he last Saw Amber.

After riding for what seemed like an eternity, he found her horse wandering, panicked and disoriented, with a stab wound on its left side. Max searched the immediate area, but Amber was nowhere to be found. He called her name, he screamed it, even, as loud as his voice would carry until his he went hoarse.

Max jumped on his horse and continued running down the trail, yelling for her as he went. He came across a set of train tracks. Embers still visible in the gravel from where the wheels had recently screeched along. Smoke still hung in the air from the dirty coal that the locomotive belched as it ran.

As he came along the side of the tracks, he found a strip of fabric and a piece of the brim of her hat that she always wore. The hat seemed like it had been shredded and where it was along the tracks, Max assumed it had gotten caught in the wheels of the train.

Panicked, he galloped along the tracks, following the path of the train as it snaked through the mountains. He pushed his horse beyond the point of exhaustion, never catching up to it before his horse nearly succumbed. In frustration, he finally stopped, allowing his horse to rest before continuing. The entire time, his mind raced over the possibilities and every part of his body ached with the driven desire to find her at all costs.

After an eternity, he came across a small, remote train station. Here, he found her revolver, a gift from him to her when she first decided to wear the badge. The barrel was smashed and the butt stock splintered. Barely recognizable except for the unique engraving that was remarkably undamaged. “M+A” was etched into the twisted metal of the gun casing, still clearly visible.

A lock of hair and some blood was also found, the colour of the hair matching the jet black colour of Amber’s. Traces of her jacket, badge, and other personal items were also found nearby. These were the last traces of her he would ever find.

Max searched relentlessly up and down the tracks and through every station, rail line and bypass he could find. He never located her, or her remains.

Eventually, despite his agonized protests, she was considered lost and presumed dead.

Overcome by grief, he blamed himself for her disappearance. He ripped off his badge and vowed never to wear it again and spent the next three years grieving and trying to come to terms with his new reality.