In a near future that's harsh but not hard to imagine, can a young woman find the power to free herself from the pain of her past without becoming the perpetrator herself?
Introducing... Milly: a woman of the future. Her journey spans twelve birthda...
Father taught Milly to shoot the little rifle. Several men and teenage boys, dressed in beige and tan, watched from the far side of the practice range by the old mine. At the Homestead, Milly wore a white dress like every female, but one holding a firearm was unfamiliar. Father glared. That was enough to send his men scurrying away with their machine guns.
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The pair stayed up late, the most Father had spoken to Milly in weeks. Even in her formative years, often her face was inscrutable like Father's — impossible to tell whether she feared him or relished his attention. But Milly tried hard. Soon, she hit the illuminated target more often than not.
Under the stars, Father said, "For some, it is instinct. For others, it's learned. The hunter waits, but when the moment comes, never hesitates." He clenched his right fist. "You act! Take what you need. Only think about what you did after it's done."
They hunted together. Father took the rifle from her after each sojourn into the desert. Everything at the Homestead belonged to him. Everyone called him Father, hundreds of them. Though Milly was known as "Father's daughter" — his only realdaughter — she returned to her bunk in the girls' quarters like the rest.
Months later, Father presented her with the rifle. "You have instinct." He turned away towards the setting sun. "Now hunt alone." He smiled.
