Hawkeye in Ishval.
Sometimes, on cool nights, she would remove herself from the noise of crowds and sharp firelight and people drinking their feelings away. Heavy combat boots crunching against the hard-packed, dry soil. Her rifle slung over her shoulder, bumping gently at her back.
The desert was windy, and the skies in Ishval were the clearest she had ever seen - at least, when there wasn't any smoke or dust from an attack.
She really didn't feel like thinking, much. All she knew was that she was tired, and the endless days were beginning to pile one atop another. Somehow, though, she hadn't lost count of those killed by her bullets.
She would sit at the edge of camp, and watch as the stars appeared, one by one, in pairs and clusters, until they dusted the sky, and - just for a moment - she could imagine away everything upon the earth below. All that existed were those tiny points of light in a sea of quiet, deep blue.
And she wished it could go on forever.