The only one who shot a gun in our group was Candace. In the distance, though, came a subtle and at times constant echoing of blasts, this soaring through a strong morning wind and the high pitched cries of birds. I shuddered, wondering what they were killing.
Candace shot off a tree branch. It was low hanging, brittle and dead, and it thumped into the cold earth. Presumably she was aiming at a squirrel, she the only one amongst us who took a lesson from Vlad and seemed excited to aim and pull the trigger. Our stable boy guide was jolly, singing a series of bawdy saloon songs and joking throughout our hunt, keeping our sherry glasses filled and making certain we knew this was a bit of frivolity. We returned to find a large red canopied area on the front lawn, and a quartet of young men pl
