Here’s how I was inspired:
I glanced at my phone. Mom would have supper almost ready. Time to head back and put up with all the noise four kids under twelve can make. I slipped my book into my jacket. At least, I’d had a little peace before starting my homework.
As I stepped onto the ladder of the old hunting blind, a few shots rang out of the valley below. Somebody target practicing.
I frowned. I’d have to skirt the valley, staying up on the ridge, and that would make me late.
Another shot. A scream.
I froze on the ladder, my left leg swaying.
That wasn’t target practice.