Vaughn's gone for the rest of the day.

I don't know where he's gone to or what he's doing, as I don't really care. I've just been reading all day, like usual.

My tablet is almost dead, and my phone has half a battery, so I'm reading an actual paperback book. I've missed reading paper books. There's something just so nostalgic about it to me.

I remember the times I would go lay out on the green grass in summer, not even caring how dirty I got. I just grabbed whatever Y.A. book I was obsessed with at the moment and spent the whole day reading through it under the shade of a tree.

Now, it makes me feel really lazy, just lying here on my stomach as I flip through some old poetry book I found on Vaughn's shelf.

But what else is there to do? I've already scoured practically every inch of the cabin for anything related to my uncle. And all I've ended up with is a big, fabulous nothing.

I mean...I suppose I could go to town tomorrow, a couple of days early.

Then, I could get a headstart on my amateur detective plan.

Best case, I find something and focus on that. Worst case, I end up in jail.

Or, maybe I'll end up just recharging my devices, buying some items, including some fascinating books of my choice, and I'll come back here once I feel better.

It would give Vaughn space, too. That would be good.

I decide that, as soon as Vaughn returns, I'll announce that I'm leaving tomorrow.

I doubt I'll even get a response, but at least he'll know.

How will I find my way back, though?

I'll have to ask him. Although...I'll probably have to do the same thing I did last time, with the ravens and the tree travel. So whatever I bring there and back, I should be able to carry while traveling through the trees.

I sigh, turning the page to the book entitled 'Lighthouse' by someone named A.I. Kun.

I frown, closing the book as I hear the door swing open.

This is the type of material he reads, huh?

Not going to lie...not at all what I was expecting.

Before I can sit up or say anything, however, I hear him ask: "Do you know how to shoot a gun? Bow and arrows?"

I turn around, sitting criss-cross applesauce to face him. He's perched slightly against the wooden end of the sofa, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. A small lock of hair falls in front of his face, but he doesn't bother to move it.

"Uh, no."

"You'll have to if you want to stay out here," he says, sounding as bored as possible.

I nod, just to get this awkward conversation over with. "Okay."

He nods once, standing up and walking to the woodstove. "Tomorrow."

Oh..okay?

Well, I guess I do have plans tomorrow, then. Won't be going to town, it seems.

"Okay."

We stay in silence, then, eating meat and canned soup, watching as the sun sets through the trees.

Later, we take turns using the sauna, and it's time for bed once again.

I don't know why, seeing as how I didn't really do anything today, but I feel thoroughly exhausted.

So, once I focus on sleeping, I'm out like a light.

I wake up to something, or rather, someone, poking my shoulder lightly. "Get up."

Groaning, I roll over, so my back is now facing him.

Tiredly, I faintly think, like a child, something along the lines of: 'Nooo, go away. Let me sleeep.'

However, if I tried to actually say that, it would come out as a very incoherent mumble.

So, I just ignore him, already almost falling asleep once more.

And, when I barely hear the front door open and close, something inside me feels accomplished.

He actually took a hint!

But, when I hear it open and close again...an uneasy feeling sets in.

My heart starts to race as my mind wakes up, and I'm about to open my eyes...

But it's too late.

The handful of snow has already been dumped on my face.

When I make the wrong move by instantly gasping and sitting up, I accidentally inhale some, while the rest goes down my shirt.

I sputter and cough, eyes squeezed closed as I cringe at the feeling, sitting frozen on the cot.

"I...I just might blindly try to punch you right now," I pathetically threaten him in between my coughing.

"Get up," he repeats before I hear the squeaking of his boots and the front door opening and closing again.

Wiping the melted snow away from my eyes, I look down, seeing the wet splotches on my dark grey shirt.

I grumble to myself as I struggle to get out of bed, feeling like I want to chuck a boot at his head or something.

He could've just asked nicely; did he think about that?

Yes, I still wouldn't have gotten up, but he could have at least tried it.

After I drink some water, I slowly put on my winter clothes, one thing after another. I choose to leave my hat on top of my bag, though.

Then, I make my way to the front door, and I'm just about to open it when...

It slams open, hitting my tired and confused self, causing me to fall backward.

I make some strangled-sounding surprised noise, expecting for my back to hit the floor any second.

However, my wrists are grabbed at the last second, and I'm yanked upward quickly.

Still cringing, I open my eyes and immediately glare at him.

"Nice going," I comment appreciatively, my voice sounding like pure sarcasm.

He looks me up and down from where he stands in the doorway, "You're fine."

For a quick second, I faintly think about smirking and going, 'I know,' but it would probably just make him hate me more. So I opt for something else.

"How would you know?" I ask.

He ignores my question, turning to go back outside. "You should've heard me. My boots are loud."

I glare at the back of his head. "I was tired and disoriented...I wasn't functioning properly yet. Plus, you walk like you talk. Silent."

He glances to the side at me, probably thinking about how little sense that made.

I ignore his stare and walk over to where a camouflage bow leans against a tree.

When he doesn't say anything, I look at him.

He's staring at me. Looking a bit confused, he asks, "Aren't you going to pretend it isn't there or something?"

I can't help but smile a bit. I mean...I wasn't going to, but now that he mentioned it... "Pretend like what isn't there?" I gesture to the side, "All I see is this tree."

He shakes his head. "Pick it up."

I do as he says after taking off my choppers, picking up the bow with my left hand. It's not the typical bow I'm used to seeing in movies and whatnot. It's not just a simple, curved wooden thing with a bowstring. It's more complicated looking, with cams and loops, lots of circular items. There's a quiver attached right to the bow, holding only four arrows.

"That's a compound bow," he tells me, walking over.

"I'm used to seeing the more...simpler bows."

"Those simpler bows are called recurve bows." He adjusts how I'm holding the bow, beginning to point to the different parts of it.

"Here you have the bowstring, nocking loop, and peep sight. There you have the grip, stabilizer, arrow rest, and bow sight."

I stay quiet, nodding as I focus on remembering.

He takes the first arrow out of the quiver, instructing me on how to correctly put it so that it's almost ready to be fired.

"The end of the arrow attaches to the part of the bowstring where the nocking loop is."

"So, is that it?"

He glances at me, "No."

"Oh, okay."

He reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a material that looks like a wide bracelet with a metal thing attached to it.

"This is the release," he explains, grabbing my right wrist and putting the release around it.

He moves my fingers around, so I'm holding it the supposedly correct way.

"You'll attach this to the nocking loop," he guides my hand, having me do so. "Then, once it's attached, keep your thumb behind the trigger as you pull back."

"Do I pull back now?"

"No," he moves to stand slightly behind me. "You have to have the proper form."

"Which is?"

"First, stand up straighter."

I do so, moving my shoulders back even though I was practically already standing perfectly straight.

"Then, spread your legs so that your feet are shoulder length apart."

"...Okay."

"Now, when you pull back, make sure your left arm is slightly bent. If it's straight and you fire the arrow, the bowstring will snap on it, and it will be excruciatingly painful."

"Okay, so now should I pull back?"

"Yes."

I pull the bowstring back, remembering to keep my left elbow bent. Then, I raise the bow up.

"Okay," he appears beside me. "Keep your hand right against your cheek and close your left eye to look through the sight. Do you see the different colored notches?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Good. And do you see the target?"

I'm about to answer, 'I didn't know there was a target,' but then I'm gently guided to the right a bit, and see a cube-shaped archery target just sitting there, yards away.

"Yeah."

"Now, align the middle of the center target with the green notch."

I do as he says, trying my best to keep my arms from shaking. It's getting a bit hard to stay steady while holding back the bowstring and keeping the bow upright.

But maybe I'm just weak, who knows?

"When you think you're ready to take the shot, slide your thumb in front of the trigger on the release and squeeze it."

I breathe in deeply, keeping the center target aligned with the green notch and my left arm bent, and then I move my thumb to squeeze the trigger.

The bowstring snaps, sending the arrow flying to the center target.

Yes, it doesn't land in the middle of the center target, but it does hit the center target. It's just a bit off, finding its place above the middle by a couple of inches.

I turn my head to look at Vaughn, who stares at me, looking a bit surprised. I'm expecting something like, 'That wasn't too bad, I suppose,' but instead, he says, "That...was good. For it being your first time shooting."

I smile, "Thanks!"

He nods, still looking surprised as he starts to walk towards the target. "Follow me."

I do so, trudging through the snow after him.

When we reach the target, he holds out his right hand, gesturing for me to hand over the bow. After I give it to him, he motions for me to pull out the arrow. "Stand to the side when you pull it out. Make sure you have a firm grip and that your movements are controlled. Otherwise, you might accidentally stab yourself."

"Great."

After I twist the release on my right wrist around so that it doesn't get in the way, I follow his directions and stand to the side. Putting both hands on the arrow, I firmly and steadily pull at it. And thankfully, when it comes out, it doesn't stab me.

Before I can hand the arrow back to Vaughn, the bow is back into my hands.

"Never pull the bowstring back and release it without an arrow in it," he tells me. "It will shatter the bow."

I nod, "Alright."

He starts walking back to where I shot the bow, so I follow. "Now, do it again."

I move around until I have the correct form, then I place the arrow and notch it. Making sure to keep my left elbow bent, I hook the now-twisted-back-into-place release through the loop and pull back.

I basically do what I did last time, except this time, after I've aligned the green notch, I move the bow down just a sliver.

When I fire and look up, I see that the arrow is closer to the middle this time.

Looking at Vaughn, I see him nod. "Good job. Keep practicing. Remember to keep your elbow bent."

Then, he begins to walk off.

My eyebrows furrow and I know that I probably shouldn't do it, but I can't help myself from asking, "Where are you going?"

He stops, turning around. "To get more firewood."

"Oh, okay." And then, another thought hits me. "Where's Moose?"

"He's in the cave."

"Why is he in the cave?"

"I told him to stay there."

"Okay...but why?"

"So that you wouldn't accidentally shoot him."

I nod, "Oh, yeah, okay. That makes sense."

He nods once, then turns around and keeps walking away, and I go back to get the arrow out of the target.