It's getting closer to hunting season and your aim still sucks. This year you actually want to catch something other than the flu. So, you asked around to see if anyone would be willing to teach you.

A family friend, who went by Graves, volunteered to help you out and that's how you find yourself laying prone on the ground, Graves' hand on the small of your back and a bolt-action rifle in your hands.

"... By the skin of your teeth." Graves says. You were very far off from the target.