On the ground next to her, propped on a fallen log, Amber peered through the business end of a large scope mounted to the top of her favorite bolt action hunting rifle, an old .308 she picked up in an Alaskan bush trade.
"Got it," Amber replied. She adjusted her position. "It's been a long time since I've done this…”
"Hopefully it’ll all come back to you," Cami said quietly. "Now, let's see how you do."
Cami took her eyes off the binoculars and watched Amber as she slowed her breathing, relaxed into the embrace of the weapon, and gently laid her finger across the trigger. On the other side of Amber, Mitch watched patiently, eyes locked on the target downrange.
Cami brought the binoculars back to her face and waited. Another three slow breaths from Amber and she squeezed the trigger just enough to launch a round downrange. The rifle cracked like thunder and split the air in the quiet meadow. Birds launched from the surrounding trees, shocked by the sudden noise in the still morning air. As the echo died down and vanished, swallowed by the density of the forest, Cami smiled. A fresh chunk of wood lay exposed just above and to the left of the dark spot on the target.
"Not bad, honey! Not bad at all…”
"Man, that thing’s a lot louder than I expected!" Mitch said as he rubbed an ear. "I even had these things in," he muttered, and pulled one pink earplug free. He rolled the squishy material between his fingers and reinserted it.
"Just imagine how loud it would be without those," Cami said.
After Amber's third shot, Cami felt confident her daughter sufficiently remembered how to work a bolt-action rifle and could hit what she aimed at—or close enough that it didn't matter on a human-sized target. Then it was Mitch's turn.
"All right, Mr. Digital Commando, let's see what you got," Cami said. She settled into her position on the log and raised the binoculars to her eyes. "Want to aim for the same target Amber did, but see if you can hit the right side? Most of her shots went left."
"Hey," Amber said defiantly, "it's been a couple years…”
“That wasn't any kind of comment on your ability, sweetie," Cami soothed. "Just stating a fact. We only have the one target—gotta make it count, right?" She looked away from the binoculars and down at Mitch. "Whenever you're ready, Mitch.”
He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and relaxed. Cami's mouth twitched. Mitch pulled the rifle into his shoulder like a man about to drown might cling to a piece of driftwood in the middle of the ocean. He managed to keep his finger off the trigger until the last moment, which she considered a plus, but the way his knuckles turned white as he squeezed the stock, told Cami she’d have some work to do. But true to her words, she wouldn't interfere with the first shot. She wanted to watch and see how he handled himself.
His first shot cracked and split the air like Amber's but, unlike hers, completely missed the stump. "I don't get it…did I miss or did I hit where she hit? I can't tell…”
Cami grinned. "Oh, you missed."
Mitch rested the rifle on the log and sat back as he looked at his hands. "I don't understand…it kicked a lot more than I was expecting, but the bullet should've been gone by then, right?"
"Round," Cami corrected gently, "and yes, it's already gone at that point. It's what you did before you pulled the trigger that caused you to miss."
Mitch looked up at her. "Like what?"
"Well for starters, you held that rifle way too tight. I could see from here the muscles of your shoulder straining against the stock. You need to make sure you hold it steady, that's for sure, but you can't squeeze it that hard…”
Mitch needed six shots—to Amber's three—before Cami felt he was proficient enough not to kill himself with the rifle. He still wasn't anywhere near Amber's level of proficiency.
"Okay, let's try the shotgun. You both will get two shots."
Now that they had officially shattered the sanctity and quietness of the forest, Cami was anxious to finish the training and get home. They still had a three-hour hike to get back to the neighborhood, and she planned to observe the property a little before they reentered, just to be on the safe side.
Like before, Amber went first. They moved across the meadow to within thirty feet of the stump and Amber approached even closer, perhaps fifteen feet.
"All right," Cami said. "We'll do two shots. First one, fire from the shoulder, second one your choice, either the shoulder or the hip. We’re not using this thing for long distance fighting, so I've loaded defensive shells for both of you. Chances are, if we need the shotgun, we’ll be inside the house and we’ll need to clear a room quickly. Got it?"
"Got it," Amber replied. She hefted the shiny barreled 12 gauge to her shoulder, then paused, partially racked the slide, and checked to see if the chamber was loaded.
"Good, good,” Cami said with approval. "You always need to make sure you've got one in the chamber before you start pulling the trigger. That could be fatal if you find yourself out in the woods facing a grizzly, pull that trigger, and hear click."
Amber grinned, returned the foregrip to its loaded position, and took aim. Like before, she relaxed the muscles in her body just enough to maintain control of the weapon and squeezed the trigger when she was ready. The shotgun kicked like a mule, and Amber staggered a step back in surprise. She’d only just managed to
