I shoved the heel of my hand into Bex’s stomach. He barely paused, but it was still thrilling to me that I landed it. “Someone’s been reading the List of Big Words, again.”

Bex glanced to Jared, and then grabbed me. He twisted me around, more forceful than usual, pulling me into his chest. My neck fit snugly in the crook of his arm. “Okay. Now what?”

I stepped on his foot, jabbed my elbow into his ribs, and then threw my head back. Bex dodged, but had he been human I would have cracked his nose.

“Good,” he said, nodding.

We went over the same old moves dozens of times, and then Bex showed me a few more. They were more offensive than defensive. Bex seemed to enjoy teaching those more, and I certainly enjoyed learning to attack more than I liked repeatedly attempting to free myself from an assailant.

After an hour, Jared brought the bag of firearms over, and then handed me shooting earmuffs and safety glasses. We walked over to a small hill, where Bex set up several targets. He was as excited as I was, but it didn’t occur to me to ask why.

I practiced with a handgun, a rifle, and a shotgun. When Jared and Bex were satisfied with my aim, Bex tied a rope to a branch of the oak tree and hung a large log from it. He unrolled a paper target, and then taped it to the middle of the log. He gave it a shove, and it swayed in a large arc back and forth.

Jared handed me his sidearm. “Less than one percent of your targets will be stationary. You need to learn to hit a moving target.

I lifted the Glock in both of my hand and looked down the sights.

“Anticipation is key,” Jared said.

I watched the log for a moment, and then squeezed the trigger. Bex leapt back with a yowl.

I dropped the gun and covered my mouth. “Oh, God! I’m sorry!”

Jared picked up the gun and tried not to smile. Bex, however, was rolling on the ground, laughing hysterically.

I glared at him. “Not funny, you little worm! I could have given birth right here in the grass!”

Bex immediately sobered, looking to his older brother for confirmation.

Jared laughed. “She’s exaggerating just a little.”

“Again,” I said, holding the gun in front of me once more. After six tries, I sighed with irritation and pulled off the earmuffs, letting them fall to the ground.

“You’re thinking too much,” Bex said. He pulled his gun from the waistline of his jeans and pulled the trigger, never looking away from me. The target had a rip in the center where the bullet made contact.

I blew my bangs from my face. “You can’t anticipate something without thinking about it.”