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The frozen, dried leaves that still clung to the sparse set of trees rattled as a symphony of death when a blast of winter wind rolled through the flat plains. Somewhere, something metal slammed onto the pavement of the nearby abandoned highway. Lana flattened herself against the ground and buried the exposed skin of her face into the crook of her arm to protect her eyes from unintentionally watering, counting each second, all while holding the rifle steady. A long gold chain bit uncomfortably into the tender skin of the back of her neck as a heart shaped locket wedged itself between her breasts. Lana shifted to relieve the pressure, adjusting the locket to a higher position on her chest, and aligned her gaze with the scope once more. Her breath came in short pants of frozen air, as she stared through the scope into empty space. The current guard should be switching in less than five minutes.