His death was an accident. As the hunter's hands became limp Sasha's rifle slipped from her grasp and sank into the shifting sands of the martian landscape. She stumbled in retreat from his body, collapsing onto the sea of red grains as the Cabal descended upon her. The days that followed overflowed with taunts and abuse by the Cabal. They relished in the capture of a guardian and made no attempt to suppress their glee. Dawn after dawn they would rise to scream and roar at the face of their enemy before untying the rope that held her hostage and parading her around the carcass of the once glorious city now buried in the dunes. At dusk they returned her to the rusty lamp post where she would be fettered for the Cabals' entertainment. Consumed by visions of her brother shuddering from the impact of the bullet in his throat the huntress had taken the humiliation in silence, echoes of the moment reverberating in her mind throughout her captivity. The Cabal had left her armor on her, a second torture as the sun rose and baked her within the metal. No more. Days of torment had broken her of guilt and sorrow. Leisurely her hand drifted to her elbow and quietly unbuckled the straps that held the armor to her forearm. Gathered at the center of their camp the Cabal didn't notice Sasha's actions. With ease the knife that had been hidden, attached to the underside of her gear, severed the rope that bound her and she disappeared into the shadows. Gracefully Sasha's blade soared into the throat of the Cabal leader, bloodying the sand. Without a leader the Cabal futilely searched for the apparition that haunted them. One by one their screams screeched across the cold desert expanse.