Striker returns to Wrath for the first time in years and has an encounter that will change his life.

Striker inhaled the air of Wrath for the first time in decades. The familiar smell of wilderness brought a nostalgic smile to his face as he rode Bombproof at full gallop through the fields and prairies. Oh, how he had missed the wind caressing his face! Bombproof too was enjoying himself. He'd neigh loudly every time he leaped over an obstacle. It's been a long time ever since his horse had run free too, after all.

They were free.

But as he arrived at his old childhood home, the joy was replaced by sadness as he stared at the cabin he once called home. It had long been overrun by wilderness and the few wooden walls and beams that remained were charred from the fire. It'd take him a long time and lots of money to repair it.

For now, though, he passed by. There's one thing he had to do first.

Striker felt a squirming in his heart as he returned to the spot he had buried his mother. The last time he was here he was barely a child, abruptly left to fend for himself. He wished he could have come to visit her more often, but his... mistress barely gave him free time to travel in-between Rings.

As he arrived at his mother's grave, however, it looked nothing like he thought it would. The grass around it was neatly cut and there was a small vase with flowers. Striker dismounted and kneeled in front of the gravestone; his chest ached as he read the words he had carved himself.

Amelia Velkan

Beloved Mother

Running a claw alongside the carved letters, Striker swallowed hard as his eyes stung with tears.

"Hi, mammy...ยท he whispered the word he had not spoken for years. "It's me, Clayton. Sorry I couldn't come to see ya, but... circumstances wouldn't allow it. I never stopped thinkin' about ya, though. I missed ya very much... I still do..."

Bombproof suddenly lifted his head, ears raised.

"What's the matter, boy?" Striker got to his feet, pulling out his revolver just in case.

As he turned around, he found himself face to face with a female imp. She stood a few meters back, holding a small bouquet of surprisingly fresh flowers. There was something... familiar about her.

"Excuse me, miss," he said tentatively, hand still on his gun's handle. "What brings ya 'round these parts?" The woman's eyes widened as he spoke.

"Clayton?"

That voice...! Could it be...?

"...Jane?"