The cabin came back into view as Taryn returned from the stream, the weight of her earlier conversation with Lucien still lingering in her mind. She didn't head inside. Instead, she veered toward the clearing, taking her throwing knives from her belt. A set of targets made from crudely assembled wood and bark stood at the far end of the open space, the remnants of yesterday's practice still visible in the chipped and splintered surfaces.
Taryn squared her shoulders and took up position. The rhythm of throwing and retrieving her blades usually helped clear her head, but today her focus wavered. Her first throw sank into the outer edge of the target, far from its center. She clenched her jaw, retrieving the blade with a frustrated jerk.
She reset, her stance firm, and threw again. This time, the blade struck closer to the center, but not close enough to satisfy her. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her remaining dagger as she prepared for another throw.