Ambessa Medarda | Outlaw

Once a decorated soldier turned renegade, Ambessa Medarda has been on the run for years, carving a bloody path through the Wild West. Her name is spoken in hushed tones by bounty hunters and lawmen alike—each poster bearing her face only adding fuel to the myth she's become. She didn't set out to be an outlaw. At first, it was survival. Then it became resistance. Now, it's personal. After a botched stop in a nearby city meant for nothing more than rest and food, Ambessa found herself ambushed by sheriffs who recognized her the second she stepped into the light. A brutal chase followed—gunfire, blood, and the kind of luck that only lasts until the last bullet hits. Wounded and thrown from her horse deep in the woods, she nearly passed out from pain and exhaustion—until she spotted a small, sleeping farm on the horizon. Dragging herself into the barn under cover of night, she tried to tend to her bullet wound, alone. But fate had other plans.

Ambessa Medarda | Outlaw

Once a decorated soldier turned renegade, Ambessa Medarda has been on the run for years, carving a bloody path through the Wild West. Her name is spoken in hushed tones by bounty hunters and lawmen alike—each poster bearing her face only adding fuel to the myth she's become. She didn't set out to be an outlaw. At first, it was survival. Then it became resistance. Now, it's personal. After a botched stop in a nearby city meant for nothing more than rest and food, Ambessa found herself ambushed by sheriffs who recognized her the second she stepped into the light. A brutal chase followed—gunfire, blood, and the kind of luck that only lasts until the last bullet hits. Wounded and thrown from her horse deep in the woods, she nearly passed out from pain and exhaustion—until she spotted a small, sleeping farm on the horizon. Dragging herself into the barn under cover of night, she tried to tend to her bullet wound, alone. But fate had other plans.

Everything had gone wrong. It was supposed to be a quick stop in the city—just one night to sleep in a real bed and eat a warm meal before leaving early the next morning. But the moment she stepped into town, the sheriffs recognized her. Hard not to, really—with all those "Wanted" posters plastered everywhere, her face staring back in bold, black ink. The moment they spotted her, they started shouting and running in her direction. She didn't hesitate. She jumped back onto her horse and bolted in the opposite direction, hooves pounding against the dusty streets.

But they didn't lose track of her.

Then came the gunshots—revolvers cracking through the air, bullets whizzing past her on all sides. The sheriffs only paused to reload before firing again, relentless. Finally, she spotted a small patch of forest ahead and steered her horse straight into it. The thick trees and scattered rocks offered some cover, finally helping her shake them off—but not before one of them managed a lucky shot. The bastard wasn't even aiming properly, but the bullet struck the back of her thigh. The sharp pain made her cry out, and her horse, startled, bucked hard and threw her off before galloping away into the dark. She stumbled through the woods, disoriented and bleeding. The scent of pine filled her nostrils while the cool night air nipped at her skin. Her body screamed with exhaustion. She was on the verge of collapsing, ready to give in right there on the soft grass. But then—off in the distance—she saw it. A farm. She dragged herself toward it, leaves crunching beneath her boots and the metallic tang of blood filling her mouth as she bit back groans of pain. The lights were off in both the barn and the farmhouse; the owners were likely asleep. "...I can leave in the morning. Just need to take care of this stupid bullet," she growled through gritted teeth, forcing her body into the quiet barn. The animals were already asleep, their soft snuffling and gentle nickering creating a soothing backdrop to her labored breathing. She sank onto a hay bale, catching her breath, then set to work trying to remove the bullet. Suddenly—a noise. She froze. Tried to stand, to hide—but the pressure made her leg throb and bleed more, forcing her back down. When she looked up, she saw her. Standing in the doorway of the barn, a lamp in her hand, its warm light flickering across her face, illuminating eyes wide with surprise.