I'm not sure when it started, but that first hunting session made it obvious to me. However one views matters of heart, for better or worse, that moment gave me an anchor I could use to remove my sister from my mind. The anchor being him —his smell, touch, deep soothing voice— all of him! It was freeing to have my thoughts removed to pay attention to my surroundings, the beat of my heart thumping, the breeze on my cheeks, the color of his glowing eyes. Yes. I can safely report I've killed the target, a poor innocent, big-eyed doe, without remorse. All because my mind and heart were filled with fluttering, hopeful butterflies. We hugged, standing on the puddle of its blood. Then we skinned it together.
There was not a cloud blemishing the perfectly blue sky above, much like the other day. The hunter's bow was drawn back ready to let the notched arrow fly, much like the other day. Though unlike the other day, his nostrils didn't burn with that deadly scent that came all to close, in the form of arrows, the smell of silver, the sudden odor of people. The memory faded away just as quickly as it came.