If I Just Dreamed

Sympathy- (11 of 13)

"Keep both eyes open, kiddo," Uncle Griff's gruff voice cut through the crisp winter air. Niah, now eleven, struggled to keep the .22 rifle steady in her small hands. The makeshift target—a rusty tin can perched on a snow-covered fence post—stood out starkly against the white landscape of Griff's farm.

"Now, what's the first rule?" Griff asked, his calloused hands steady on her shoulders, grounding her against the biting cold.

Niah inhaled deeply, the scent of gun oil mingling with the sharp, clean aroma of snow. "Safety first," she recited, her voice muffled by the oversized earmuffs pressing uncomfortably against her head.

"That's my girl," Griff nodded, a rare smile softening his features. He reached out, adjusting her earmuffs. The world around her muffled instantly, cocooning her in a bubble of anticipation.

With newfound confidence, Niah pointed the gun towards her target, squinting down the sight. The barrel wavered slightly, her arms trembling with both effort and cold.

"On three," Griff instructed. "One... two... three!"

The crack of the shot pierced the winter stillness. Niah's heart leapt as she watched the bullet's path. It missed the can, kicking up a spray of snow nearby.

"Well," Griff grunted, amusement in his voice, "You missed. But let's try again. Don't let the cold scare you."

As they prepared for another shot, the crunch of snow announced new arrivals.

"Dammit Griff, I told you she's too young for this!" Lucy's voice carried across the snowy yard, sharp with concern.

Gabe placed a calming hand on his wife's shoulder. "I told him it was fine-"

Griff turned to face them, his expression a mix of determination and reassurance. "She's doin' fine woman." Griff placed a cigarette between his lips, and lit it.

Gabe nodded, a proud smile spreading across his face. "She's a natural, just like her old man."

Lucy's stance softened slightly, but concern still etched her features. "Fine, but if anything happens..."

"Nothing's gonna happen," Griff assured her. "Tell you what, if she misses the next shot, we'll call it a day and head in for some hot cocoa. But if she hits it..." He turned to Niah with a conspiratorial wink.

Catching on quickly, Niah piped up, "I want to stay at Uncle Griff's for the weekend!"

Lucy looked between the three of them, her expression cycling through exasperation, amusement, and finally, resignation. "Alright," she sighed, "but be careful."

Triumphant, Niah returned to her position, her earlier nervousness replaced by determination. Griff stood beside her, Garrett and Lucy watching from a distance. They resumed their stance, the familiar routine settling over them like a warm blanket against the winter chill.

Safety off, eyes open, ears plugged. Niah took a deep breath, the cold air sharp in her lungs. She steadied herself, took aim, and...

​

This time, Niah didn't miss her shot.​

_____/\_____

When Niah woke up, her breath caught in her chest. I pain unlike any other made her made her vision go white again.

Her hair had come undone, and it brushed on the ground, past her face. At first, she tried to get back on her feet, check her surroundings, but as soon as she tried to use her right arm to bear herself up, she crumpled underneath her own weight, and fell back down. Tears from her eyes threaten to fall from the pain. The pain sat laden in two different places, she wasn't sure where to check herself first. Niah took a deep breath and used her other arm to hoist herself up. She didn't make it to her feet, but she managed her knees.