Falling Feathers Book I - Rogue Without Fear

Chapter XV

>>> Soren Hawethorne <<<
Autumn was gone again.  I had tried desperately to push her from my mind.  Her business didn't concern me anymore.  As long as it didn't come to my inn, it wasn't anything I should be concerned about. I was lying in bed, looking up at the wooden ceiling. I wonder where she is, I thought to myself. No.  Don't think about her. Let her go, move on. I commanded myself.  Think of something else.  So, I thought about the way things were outside of my inn.
It was early summer. The breeze was cool, but the air was hot and humid.  The leaves outside were green, providing much shade to the weary.  It was late in the day, about evening time.  The sun was lowering itself onto the horizon, the warmth of it was starting to leave. She should be getting back soon...
I rolled onto my side in frustration. No matter what I did, she always managed to make her way back into my mind. There was nothing I could do. Giving up on my desperate attempts, I dragged myself out my bed to go downstairs. Maybe Antony can give me something to do. Feed the chickens or milk his cow or something. I grumbled to myself. I loved animals, but I loathed cows. I'd always hated cows, and could never place my finger on what it was about them that I didn't like. Maybe not milk his cows. There has to be some farm chore he has for me, I figured to myself as I walked out the door and down the road.
By the time I was on the dirt road, as it transitioned to cobble, I realized that it was a little late to go to the farm to help. By now, he was probably penning the animals. By the time I made it down, he would undoubtedly be done. Antony was fast at his chores. Maybe I should just walk around town. That would likely be best, I figured at last.
In the end, that's what I had decided on.

>>> Autumn Rose <<<
"Hold it like..." the stranger guided my hand so that I was holding the pistol correctly. "That." I nodded my head acknowledging his correction.  He took a step back, and looked at me.  "In the beginning, just try and shoot that scarecrow.  When you get better, we'll give you one with target areas," he mumbled so that it was a struggle for me to understand him.  I nodded again.
    I aimed my pistol at the scarecrow's chest. I closed one eye, and looked down the barrel. I pulled the trigger, and the gun jolted slightly. The wood pellet whizzed to the left of the scarecrow's head.  I'd missed.
"Keep working, you'll get it eventually," he encouraged.  I sighed, and he walked out the room.  I looked again at the scarecrow.  If I hit too high, I should try aiming a little lower, I figured to myself.  I pointed towards the middle of its chest, and took a deep breath.  The bullet left my gun, and struck the scarecrow in the neck.  I smiled to myself.
While shooting the pistol for practice wasn't the most entertaining thing I'd ever done, I knew it was for the best.  I wouldn't get better unless I worked.  It was amusing for now, but I would grow tired of it after a little while. That's the way things always are. In the beginning, it's the newfound entertainment, the excitement of a new phenomenon. After a while, things aren't as interesting, and the task at hand is a bore.
I lost track of time, of how long I'd been there. I must've shot over fifty wooden pellets.  Finally, the stranger came in and stopped me.
"That's enough.  You can go now," he muttered bluntly. His tone sounded hurried. Although I couldn't see his face, I knew that he was probably frowning, and deep in thought. "You might want to hurry back, it's getting late." Normally he didn't rush me out, he encouraged me to stay a while and chat to the others. He did always remind me that I had somewhere to be, but he never rushed me quite the way he was now. It was odd, and quite out of character. What character? This fellow doesn't have a normal pattern to follow, I thought to myself. There were a few things I did pick up on. This was one of them. This wasn't normal.
"What's the rush, is something wrong?" I asked curiously. The figure stiffened slightly under his cloak.
"Nothing's wrong," he growled. "Come on, stop arguing and leave. At this rate, it'll be dark by the time you're finally at the inn." I didn't feel like retorting, I was pretty exhausted. With a shrug and a grunt, I left the room and didn't look back.