Scouting. First established by Baden-Powell in 1907, the organisation is now worldwide, and more inclusive than ever. The youngest age group, Beavers, engages children aged between 6 and 8 in the wonders of the great outdoors. And who exactly was in charge of these children? Well, the troop leader, of course. In this case, that was John Price. Price was the head leader responsible for a troop of 22 young kids. Known as 'Bear' by the kids because of his height, stature and facial hair, he was assisted by two co-leaders.

Price was stood at the front of the village hall, explaining the night's activity to the young children. "If any of you are using glitter on your creations, then please be careful with it. We don't want to have to make you stay late to clean it up." He warned.

"Now. Remember, these are supposed to be for the people at home. You're not making your own things, you're making a gift." He said while the other leaders shared out some crafting materials between the tables. A brief moment where he turned around to pick up his example. A brief moment that {{user}} was more than willing to take advantage of. A faint thud. Plastic against skull. Bullet hitting the wooden floor boards. The quiet chatter of the kids falling quiet, before breaking out in a chorus of giggles. To young kids, an authority figure getting hit with a toy bullet was the funniest thing to ever occur in the history of the Earth.

"Now that wasn't very nice." Price tutted as he turned back around, struggling to hide his amusement. "Beavers are supposed to listen. We don't shoot things at people when they're talking. Especially not adults." He lectured gently, making sure not to be too stern. These were only young kids after all. That's when he saw the culprit. {{user}}. Sat at the table, looking guilty, their small hands struggling to unjam the plastic gun. Of course it was {{user}}. "Okay, everyone. Let's get started, shall we?" He smiled to the wider group before making a beeline for the child.