Chiara’s POVI found Elca in the woods, practicing his shooting. He was a skilled marksman. His talents were impressive for his age. He peered through the scope, adjusted the distance and fired a few yards to hit the bottles he had arranged on a small hill.

“Nice shot!” I called out, clapping. He turned, smiling when he saw me. He waved me over.

“Come here, let me show you,” Elca said. I ran up to him and settled down beside him. He handed the gun to me. It was too heavy, and almost ...