The next day, Eira was at the shooting range, practicing her aim. The crisp morning air filled her lungs as she steadied the rifle, the weight of it familiar yet foreign in her hands. Each pull of the trigger echoed in the spacious hall. She took a deep breath, focusing on the distant target set against the far wall. Her fingers tightened around the grip, muscles tensing as she aligned the sights.
It felt like ages since she had held a gun, let alone aimed at something.
The click of the safety being disengaged was almost a whisper, but in the quiet of the range, it sounded loud. Eira exhaled slowly, letting the tension melt away as she squeezed the trigger. The shot rang true, the bullet striking the center of the target with satisfying precision.
A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She leaned back, lowering the rifle and taking a moment to appreciate her progress.
"Perfect score," a voice called out from behind her.