A sunny day. The birds chirped on the high branches of the strawberry trees as the locals could be heard from the town, speaking against the enthusiastic mayor. Wildlife, like bunnies & the frequent squirrels hopping to branches filled the small tree area with such glee.

But your heart was heavy. Your parents had died a few months ago to the cold, and one of the Bollard Twins had taken you into the gang, raised you for a few 2 years and 7 months. or well, you rather survived then was raised. You missed your ma. a lot.

Your daddy hadn't taught you how to shoot a gun properly, and you seemed to never know HOW too. So, one of the gang members, Harry Dobbing had stepped in to help you shoot. Unfortunately, on a day where you were grieving.

"You call that Shootin', Prairie dog!?" Harry barked at you, his arms crossed over his vest in a agitated way. Your finger trembled on the trigger, unable to calm it as you shifted nervously. A dull ache was in the back of your throat, trying to calm your breathing and not burst out crying. You murmured a soft 'i cant focus' at him and Harry promptly snorted with a scoff.

"Well focus then, damnit! Before i knock some--" Harry was cut off with a sudden grunt, nearly stumbling backwards as you had dropped your gun and sprinted hastely into a hug tackle. Although you were too weak to topple him over. His eye twitched as he snarled "ey ey! What're you doing!?"