A Week Later…
The morning air was crisp, cool, and clear. The bright sun shone warmly over the vast, open green fields located just behind the Hamilton estate. The tall grass swayed gently in the light wind.
Rowan stood firmly in the center of the open field. He wore a simple hunting coat and brown leather boots. His broad shoulders were pulled back. He held a rifle securely in his hands. His eyes were entirely focused on the empty sky ahead of him.
He took a slow, deep breath. He raised the rifle, resting the smooth wooden stock firmly against his right shoulder.
"Pull!" Rowan shouted loudly. His deep voice carried clearly across the open field.
A few yards away, a waiting footman quickly pulled a tight lever. A small, round clay target flew rapidly into the sky.
Rowan tracked the fast-moving target with his eyes. He did not hesitate. He pulled the metal trigger.
