<i>Don't thank me,</i>he thought to himself.<i>Don't thank the man who should have been able to save just one damn life.</i>He let her rest in peace, slotting together the remainder of the components of each weapon once he was satisfied they were clean and cared for. The shotgun had been especially worn down in places, the years of use and neglect having piled up, but it was nothing he couldn't correct. He set it down once he was satisfied and leaned back in his chair, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes and stifling a yawn. There was still so much to do. So much, and so little time to do it in. He stood and retrieved the binder of notes he'd left off from before, then sat down with it on the ground in the corner, his back to the metal wall, legs stretched out in front of him.<br/><br/>He pulled the loose page free again and inspected it more closely. There were the notes he had expected on the residents. He looked through until he found the name he wanted. Oliver. His lips curled into a frown as he read through the notes that his predecessor had left.<br/><br/><i>Oliver. Black hair. Exceptionally skilled. Intelligent. Potential replacement. Suggested Strider training to him. He seemed to like the idea. Must be wary however. Family has great meaning to him, deeply ingrained with the individuals of Little Lake. Esp. sister. May need to orchestrate loss to enhance emotional capacity. Inquire w/Huntsmen.<br/>
</i><br/>Something was very wrong about this, Carson sensed. He reached up onto his desk to retrieve a pen and circled 'Huntsmen', then carefully wrote over the notes so that the rest was utterly impossible to discern. Had the man before really been grooming Oliver to follow in his footsteps as a Strider? And the implication that he would have to 'orchestrate loss' was haunting. He flipped through the binder again, back to the notes on local threats, and scanned through the encoded text until he found what had been written about the Huntsmen.<br/><br/><i>Wild and unruly. Operate by laws of nature primarily. Somewhat mercantile. Can be swayed with appropriate payment. Not a very dangerous group so long as their settlement is not approached. </i>Alongside the notation was a sketch of one of the 'Huntsmen', and it matched the skull-wearing wild man Carson had seen. His suspicions intensified. He flipped the binder shut and folded his arms around it, head bowed forward as he thought over the possibilities. He was right at the brink of grasping them when he fell asleep, hunched over the binder, arms wrapped around it, the rain pattering comfortably against the metal roof and walls.