Aaliyah's Redemption: Bound by Fate ***DISCONTINUED, READ DESCRIPTION***

Chapter XXIII

The early morning in the West Grizzles brought a quiet Aaliyah had come to appreciate. As the soft chirping of birds pulled her from sleep, she stretched out, feeling the chill in the air despite the sun already peeking over the horizon. The world seemed both endless and close around her; she'd spent the past few months camping in this rough terrain, finding her footing again in the solitude. She had grown accustomed to this life, to the lonely quiet, though sometimes her mind drifted to the gang, and—despite herself—back to Arthur.

With a sigh, she placed a battered can of beans over her fire and went to check on the mares. She first tossed each of them a hay biscuit and then ran a brush over Kennedy, her red roan. "You ready for another trek?" she murmured, as if the horse might answer. Kennedy's ear flicked back, and Aaliyah smiled softly, the kind of expression that softened her usually guarded features.

She turned to the black mare. The poor thing had been attacked by a bear weeks back, saved only by the intervention of a passing old-timer who had since left her to recover under Aaliyah's watchful eye. The mare's sides were still healing, scars puckered where the claws had sunk in. Aaliyah applied ointment to the wounds, her voice soothing. "There we go, girl. It's cold, I know." The mare shivered under her touch, but the trust was there, hard-won over weeks of tending.

Once camp was packed up and the horses saddled, she nudged Kennedy into a walk, the black mare trotting close behind as a packhorse. Saint Denis was still days away, but she was in no rush. The trails had always called to her, stretching far and wild.

***

Three days later, Aaliyah's body ached from the ride. She had crossed from the chill of the Grizzlies into the open plains, with each passing mile bringing her closer to the hazy heat of Lemoyne. Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Valentine and the last few days she'd spent with the gang, It wasn't the bounties or the money she'd made that lingered in her mind—it was the laughter, the company, the time with Arthur. That last day, she'd wanted to stay, but something in her had snapped, and she left. She hadn't looked back, but she hadn't been able to shake the emptiness that followed her after.

The setting sun bathed the land in gold as she found a secluded clearing, far enough from the main trail to keep her camp unnoticed. She dismounted and hitched Kennedy and the black mare to nearby trees, giving each a handful of oats and checking their hooves before setting up camp.

She worked swiftly, unpacking her small tent and gathering dry leaves and twigs. She struck a match and let the warmth of the small fire seep into her. Sitting by the flames, she watched them flicker, her eyes distant as she traced the horizon. Tomorrow she would make it to Saint Denis, a place she both dreaded and felt drawn to, if only for the coin it promised.

***

The morning sun woke her, bright and unforgiving, yet she savoured the warmth after the cold night. Tidying up quickly, she dressed in her worn jeans and a dark blue shirt, layering her favourite denim jacket on top. A red bandana hung around her neck, a touch of colour in her otherwise practical attire. She ran her fingers through her hair and left it loose, letting it fall in waves down her back.

After saddling Kennedy, she checked on the black mare before mounting up. The sound of her pistols shifting against her belt gave her a sense of calm as she set out. The route into Saint Denis was long but mercifully straightforward. As she rode, memories drifted back like fog—thoughts of Arthur's grin, the glint in his eye when he teased her. She caught herself looking over her shoulder now and then, half-expecting to see him trailing behind, though she knew he wouldn't be there.

***

When she reached Saint Denis, the contrast to the wilderness was stark. The buzz of people, horses, carts, and voices crowded the air. The city was both fascinating and claustrophobic, and Aaliyah couldn't help but stiffen as she made her way through the bustling streets. She led Kennedy to a hitching post by the sheriff's office, giving her a reassuring pat before heading inside.

The door creaked as she entered, and the smell of tobacco and leather filled her nose. Two deputies glanced at her with mild curiosity, though one, and older man with a gruff voice, seemed to recognise her. "Stephens?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest.

Aaliyah nodded. "Yes, sir."

He gave her a nod in return. "There's a bounty on the wall. The fella's wanted alive." His tone left no room for negotiation.

"Alive?" she chuckled dryly, shaking her head. "No promises, but I'll give it a try." She took the poster off the wall and examined it. A man named Cole Wilson, known for his brutal robberies. This one would be tricky, but she was used to that.

The first deputy spoke up again, his tone sharper. "If he don't make it back, you'll be swinging in his place."

Aaliyah held back a scoff, meeting his eyes with a steady gaze. "Alive, then. I'll bring him in breathing."

She turned on her heel and walked back to her horse. She mounted Kennedy and glanced at the poster once more. The last known location for Wilson was in the swamps outside of town, an area as danger as it was unfamiliar. But the bounty was high, and she needed the coin. She took a breath, steadying herself for the task ahead.

With a click of her tongue, she nudged Kennedy into a walk, letting the rhythm of her mare's gait pull her thoughts back to the present. Each step took her farther into the wild outskirts of Saint Denis, her mind set on the hunt. But as she rode, she couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere out there, a familiar set of blue eyes might be watching her, closer than she realised.