Working it out
Her mind had wandered as she prepped dinner. She'd found throwing knives in the cutlery drawer. She'd frowned as she considered what she knew about throwing knives. It was a well balanced set. She'd itched to try them, but instead refocused on her current task. She'd looked with shock at the neat piles of chopped veggies ready to go into the stew pot. She'd flung the knife away in sudden rage. She was startled by the loudness of the metal clang as the knife bounced back towards her with force. Except that she knew the knife would fall short. The rage was gone instantly.
Reaction set in and she began to shake. She knew a few more things about herself. She was no stranger to knife work. She looked at the diced veggies again with mixed feelings. She'd automatically calculated the trajectory and orientation even as the chef's knife left her fingers. That wasn't cookery knowledge. She knew something about knives as weapons. Grim satisfaction overrode the shakes.
Jack was checking the woodpile when he heard the clang through the open window. He waited for the swearing to follow. He quirked an eyebrow when it didn't come and turned to face the shack. It had been a long week. The strain was starting to affect his nerves.