Daniel stepped back and scanned the cabin. One room, one queen bed, one door. Substantial floor space, even with a small table, allowed a sense of openness. Claustrophobia might otherwise overwhelm anyone staying here for any length of time.
"They meant the world, and you turned. That means you thought they could pull it off."
Samantha's lips tightened and her voice thinned to an icy whisper, "what it meant was I thought I had a chance to get back a life."
"My apologies," he said as he put dry goods in the small pantry. "I didn't know you were so emotionally involved."
"Yeah, that's something that doesn't usually come with the territory does it?" Samantha laid back and stared at the ceiling. "I don't know when it happened or how, but somewhere I lost my edge."
"By edge, you mean your ability to distance yourself from feeling?"
"No, losing my desire to kill. Too many people need to die to make this world a better place. I knew I had no chance to kill them all and I also knew my contributions were limited at best, so what's the point? I just wanted to settle down and forget."
Daniel opened the door, hesitated and said, "I'm going to scrounge up some firewood. Back in a few." The door clanked shut followed by footsteps fading from the cabin porch.
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