━━━━𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕.
𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓

   𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 had just begun to set, a hue of orange and pink cascading over the grass. Through the air came a soft breeze, ruffling the leaves on their branches, a peaceful silence falling over the field. Soon, a gunshot breaks away the tranquility, the bullet hitting the target dead center.

Tommy lets out a low whistle, eyeing the fresh wound in the bullseye. He looks back at the small girl holding the pistol, giving the brunette a nod of approval as he goes to trace his finger over the indent.

"Bullseye!"

Mason lowers the weapon in her hands, bestowing her uncle a smile as he trots back towards her, ruffling her short locks. Tommy looks forward at the lowering sun, giving the girl a light pat on the back as he reaches for their packs.

"Gonna be dark soon, we need to head back." He informs, handing his niece her backpack as he slings his own around his shoulders and his rifle as well. The pair start towards the black horse that stood plenty of feet away, Maisie running off towards the animal that Joel had gifted to her on the girl's seventh birthday. With a tiny hand, she reached, scratching at her horse's head, kissing it gently when she bowed her neck. After four years, the Miller girl only reached the tip of the mare's nose.

"Iris," Mason says as her gentle greeting, her throat raw as the words built in it. Though she had gone to therapy, it still felt painful to speak in long sentences.

Tommy hops onto the saddle first, pulling the frail girl up after. With his niece's arms secure around his torso, the man snapped the brown leather rains, sending Iris speeding through the overgrown grass. The lights of Jackson glimmered in the distance, and Mason couldn't help but smile at the sight of her home. The horse ran through the trail, hooves running over the dead leaves in their path, the community's gates now in view. Tightening his grip on the leather in his hands, Tommy gently pulled back, bringing the animal to a slow stop as they reached the walls.

"Mark, it's Tommy!" He shouts to the guard, the gates opening seconds later. As soon as their inside the walls, The youngest Miller slides down the horse's saddle, a soft grunt escaping her lips. Her uncle jumps down as well, turning towards her.

"Head on home, I got 'er." Maisie nods, slipping her arms around Tommy's waist and patting Iris on the side before sprinting off towards her home.

The little girl runs up the steps of her porch, twisting the doorknob and slipping through the door. Closing it gently, she slips off her shoes, her pack, and jacket following after. The young brunette's gray socks pad on the wood flooring, walking off towards the kitchen's back door. Hearing the familiar music of her father's guitar, she giggles, pushing on the screen door, letting it swing open.

Joel looks up towards her, smiling when he sees his daughter's bright blue eyes.

"Hey, baby girl." Setting his instrument off to the side, he lets Mason hop on his lap, wrapping her thin arms around her neck. The man kisses her head, the girl balling upon his chest.

"Target practice go good?"

The girl nods, smiling proudly.

"Bullseye." She repeats her uncle's words, hitting Joel's palm as he offers her a low high-five. The two sit for a while more, making small talk and enjoying the others company until the father stands, the little girl sliding from his lap.

"You hungry?" The man asks, earning a nod as he picks up his guitar.

Mason runs into the living room as Joel holds open the screen door for her, rummaging through her pack. Finally, she pulls out Bear as well as her forest green blanket, clutching both to her chest as she jumps on the couch, reaching for her box of crayons and one of her many coloring books. The stuffed dog that sat by her side was old, the once white and brown fur now stained in marker and apple juice, his left ear sewn back to his body, courtesy of Joel after it had caught on a loose screw. In other words, the stuffed animal had seen better days, but Maisie loved it all the same. Now, the blanket was much cleaner but had received a few holes over the years, but as well as Bear, the apple juice stains covered a few spots.

The eleven-year-old used a green crayon to color the forest in her picture, tongue peeping out from her lips as she concentrated, barely registering her father calling for her.

"Go ahead and clean up, dinner's almost ready!" Joel calls to his daughter from the kitchen. Maisie jumps from the couch, blanket clutched in her hands as she runs upstairs towards the bathroom, giggling as she does.

Mason Miller, for the first time in a while, was happy.