Gunfire: The Thunder

The night was not kind. While I did not generally consider myself prone to excessive introspection, the thought of the mysterious Miss Fiamma brought back a number of vivid memories and sharp regrets.

It had been a clash of interest, with the small amount of hindsight that I now possessed. I had valued the illusion of independence, then - thought myself quite the solitary character, a lone hunter on horseback. Her arrival and the engagement were quite unwelcome intrusions.

Ironically, I'd quite liked her. She had been stiff and formal, and I remembered a distinct feeling that she was not quite confident in her balance. But there had been something behind the reserved manner and the youthful appearance. The shadow of something more than a just a pampered young woman.

Not that it mattered now. She was dead and I was likely to join her. There was a certain apropos to it, I thought. The universe had its own unique and impenetrable way of balancing its books.