Rabbit was the trade-off for Irene's rustiness with a bow.
A short time after the grouse, a hare appeared in the right spot and closer enough than she or Henry would have expected. It felt a bit too perfect that the animal was so close because it gave her an easy shot that even she could have made the first day she had a bow as a child.
Cleanly as ever, the shot sliced through its small body, pinning it to the snow. There was no struggling. It didn't even know it was dying before it was dead.
The knight recalled when she first went hunting and got a rabbit that time too. The memory was interlaced with thoughts of her father and grandmother. Even her mother's rage at hunting alone wasn't that bad to think about any longer, knowing that everything she did was out of care even if Irene couldn't see that when she was younger—her father's death had shown Irene a new side of Rochelle.
