The Hunter In Me

9 - Memory

The day was heating up, baking me in the humidity. I used the bottom of my shirt to wipe the sweat from my face as the phone rang for the third time.

"Hi, Bash! What's going on?" Emily answered.

"Nothing much. I was talking to Nolan. He said you have plans with Lauren, but I wondered if you two might like to double again instead? We could grab dinner?"

"Sounds great. I'll ask Lauren. I'm not sure if she's making Nolan wait on purpose."

Emily giggled, and I wanted to spend time with her even more. "Can't fault her if she is. Just hit me back."

"Okay. Give me a minute."

We hung up, and Owen chuckled. "So, that girl's mad about your friend knocking her over? Man, I'm glad he wasn't the one who could see me. I'd still be sitting in the house by myself."

"Maybe not." I didn't like him making fun of my friend. Yeah, I did it, but that was different. "Nolan's a good person; he freaked out. We're not used to stuff like that happening, you know?"

"No, it's instinct; you didn't freak out."

"That's not fair. You talked to me, and I knew you only wanted us to leave. Nolan thought we were being attacked."

The ringing of my phone stopped Owen's reply. "Hey, Emily," I said.

"Lauren wants to double. When do you guys want to go?"

Part of me wished they wouldn't change their plans. If blocking didn't work, I'd rather not be with Emily while Owen was stuck hearing my thoughts and watching everything.

"I have some stuff to do today. Would dinner at eight be alright?"

"Sure. I'll have Lauren come over so you can pick us up here."

"Cool. See you then." I ended the call and texted Nolan.

Me: We're picking them up from Emily's at 8.

His response was instant.

Nolan: Excellent.

Owen hummed. "This texting thing is convenient. No time wasted on pleasantries."

"I guess. Alright, we have to practice ignoring each other. I don't want you paying attention while Emily's around."

"Knives first. Show me what you've got."

"Fine." I walked toward the tree, stopping about ten feet away. Shifting a knife to my throwing hand, I studied my grip. "Hold it like this," I said, and Owen made a noise of agreement. Drawing my arm behind me, I aimed for the trunk and let it fly. It bounced off the bark, well over head height.

"You released too soon. Aim for chest level."

I tried again. The knifepoint hit but didn't stick; it fell to the dirt.

"You need more power. Twist your body back with your arm and forward with the throw. Don't plant your feet; take a step with the release."

I practiced the action twice before I twisted, took a step, and threw. For a second, the blade stuck, but it was still high.

"You're releasing too early. Put more muscle behind it. Don't be afraid of the knife."

I scoffed. "I'm not afraid. This is new to me, and now I'm learning when I'm already tired and sore."

"True. Let's try a few more throws; you've almost got it. Tomorrow you can practice before me."

My arms tingled as I stretched my burning muscles. Maybe I was holding back. I resolved to put as much power as possible into the next throw. With a deep inhale, I twisted around and threw as hard as I could. When the knife hit, half the blade buried itself in the ground in front of my boot. My stomach flipped, and I straightened.