[center][h1][color=00746b]Zuya Keyoe[/color][/h1][/center]

The saloon was crowded from the time Zuya had walked in earlier that morning. It always amazed her at how early some people would start their revelries, but at least it was to her benefit. At least she wasn’t taken notice of as she walked in, tho that could have also been due to how she was dressed. She had donned a smaller pair of mens pants along with a faded white shirt. She had tucked her long dark hair up under a hat and used that hat to obscure her facial features. You didn’t often find many women in the saloons like this other than the prostitutes, let alone a native woman so she found it best to try and disguise who she really was.

She had seated herself at a table up against a wall yet near enough to the door in case she had to make a quick getaway. A few days of following Dawson’s men had tipped her off to the fact that they often liked to visit this saloon, but she had yet to come across the men she was looking for. So she was hoping that today may be her lucky day.

It had been about an hour that she’d been sitting there when a trio walked in. They weren’t Dawson’s men for sure, but what had caught her eye was that one of them was native like her and another was also a woman. They were an intriguing group, but she didn’t watch them for too long so not to attract attention to herself. She took another sip of her whiskey then sighed as she glanced around the room.

Another hour passed by when finally they walked in and she grinned as she saw it was who she was looking for. Bradley Grant, one of the men who attacked her and the man that pulled the trigger on her husband. 

She didn’t have much time to start formulating a plan on how to take him out, however, as a slap rang out and she glanced over at his companion who was in a dispute with a prostitute. She discreetly moved her hand down to her side, preparing to go for the dagger she had hidden in her boot in case things began to get ugly. However one of the men in the trio who walked in earlier confronted him. [i]What the hell? Is this man looking for a fight?[/i] She thought to herself as the conflict began. She didn’t foresee things turning out to well with it so she quickly downed the rest of the whisky she’d been nursing before silently getting up and making her way outside. She hadn’t brought her bow in with her as that would have drawn suspicion and had left it on her horse. She decided she needed to get to it quick before things got ugly.

She made her way down the alley she’d tied up Sota and quickly grabbed her bow as she heard the dispute move outside. Just from the sound of things she knew this would end in a fire fight and she needed to find some high ground. Glancing around she mapped a path using some crates and windowsills to get herself onto the roof of the building she was by. She slung the bow across her body and quickly made her way up to the roof with surprising ease.

As she got herself situated, taking off her hat and letting two braids fall around her shoulders, she glanced down at the scene to see the trio now surrounded by Dawson’s men. She also saw the woman riding like hell towards the group with pursuers on her tail and Zuya wanted to yell to her to watch out, but it was too late. The collision caused some confusion, but not for long as a gunshot rang out. Her head whipped towards the man, “The Coyote”, and she gritted her teeth in anger. He had just taken out her target and gave him a far too quick and easy death. She couldn’t stew for too long, however, as all hell broke loose. She surveyed the scene and watched as people went for cover. She nocked an arrow then pulled the string back and released it towards a man who was firing at “The Coyote”. She hit him square in the shoulder, which wouldn’t kill him right out but left unattended he would die. She nocked another arrow and surveyed the scene again. She noticed one of the woman’s pursuers was now headed towards her and the native man who had taken cover behind some crates below Zuya. She had a clear shot on him and released, the arrow embedding itself in the man’s neck. This was not how she foresaw her day going.