The sound of the wind in her ears spoke of violence. Violence perpretrated by animals just katowing to their normal survivalistic nature. She tried to close out the sounds as she stood on the edge of the ravine, her hair blowing in rhythm with each gust.
Steady she must be now, steady in her resolve. She knew later the small transport would come below. She knew exactly the timing of her shot, and if it was not precise, she knew that it would most likely be her last heist. She took a deep steadying breath. A deer walked across the ravine, it’s ears not picking up her breathing. She looked at the animal, it’s brown hide would be valuable come winter. But in her mind she had bigger fish to fry.
She could hear the engine coming from the distance, a loud obnoxious sound , when surrounded by all this beauty. She took off her large pack, retrieving a long serrated dagger from within. She knelt at the edge of the ravine and waited for the finishing blow. 

She had to be precise.