"W-would you like something to drink?" Pinga asked, a desparate look in her brown eyes.
"A water would be great, thanks." He replied, watching her as she got up and walked to the kitchen. As she got his water ready, she was deep in her thoughts. He could tell because she would bumped into two cabinets and overfilled his glass, water dripping to the floor.
With the water in hand, Pinga walked back into the living room and gave it to Gabriel. He thanked her and set it down. There was silence for a little bit, as she thought of what to say, and he waited for her response.
"I can't just leave my dad," she started, looking down at the pile of bills on the coffee table. "He won't be able to afford the house by himself. If I leave, the house will get foreclosed, and he'll have to move in with my Ama, or..." she trailed off. Gabe, although he showed little to no emotion on the outside, empathized with her. He remembered the worries and stress he had when he was deciding to join the military. But he knew what he needed to do, and that was to save lives.
"Can I see you shoot?" Gabriel asked, looking out the window to the backyard. Pinga didn't realize what he was doing, but it was working. He was trying to distract her, to make her focus on something else. He didn't need the water, but he knew she needed time to gather her thoughts.
She nodded, getting up.
They stood in her backyard, small snowflakes fluttering down from the sky. Pinga had her bow in hand and a pack of arrows laying in the snow. There were targets littered around the yard, whether multiple in trees or on the ground or pinned up on the clothesline. The harsh reds and blacks on the targets stood out on the pure white background.
She took an arrow, glancing at the paint on it. This set was one of the first ones she made, when she was no younger than eight or nine. The paint was faded, chipping at some parts, and the arrowhead small from how many times she's resharpened the point.
She set the arrow against the rest on the bow, holding the grip just below it tightly with her left hand. She drew back her right hand pulling the string all the way back until her hand was next to her ear.
Gabriel watched intently, every small movement he saw. She aimed for a target high in a tree, easily viewable because of the lack of leaves. And like a gunshot, she released the arrow. It sliced right through the air, and stuck to the target. It wobbled like a doorstopper, and he saw she hit the bullseye. He nodded, slightly impressed.
He pointed to another target, across the yard. Pinga reloaded her bow faster, aiming, and releasing the arrow. Slightly off the bullseye, but still would have killed. He narrowed his eyes, looking around the yard.
"Shoot these targets," Gabriel pointed to one slightly behind her, another straight infront of her on the clothes line, and the last exactly ninety degrees right. "As fast as you can."
He saw her take a deep breath, closing her eyes as she did. She was trying to clear her foggy head, to focus on her targets and only her targets.
Pinga took three arrows from the quiver, loading one and holding the other two with her right hand, which was also pulling back the string. Then, and if he would have blinked he would have missed it, she shot one. As if it were second nature, she took the second arrow between her pointer and middle finger, moved her body, aimed and shot. She did the same for the third target.
It took her five seconds. Gabriel was suprised, but felt a small pit in his stomach when he took a closer look at each of the targets. The first was off, between the second and third outer rings. The second was dead on, and the third was off the target completely and in the tree.
He was concerned at how much Pinga's worries were affecting her aim. If she preformed like this when they were on a mission, she wouldn't survive. She needed a lot more training than they anticipated, and not just in physical areas.
"I'm sorry, I can redo that," she sighed, her head in her hands. She was rubbing the sides of her forehead. She was mad at herself, he could tell. "I wasn't focused, and I could've done a lot better."
Gabriel shook his head, knowing she would do worse if she retried. Her anger would cloud her head even more.
Pinga nodded, looking down at her quiver. She picked it up.
"You may head inside. My father should be home now, you can talk to him while I grab the arrows." She looked back up to him. He wasn't smiling, or frowning. Just a straight, emotionless look painted on.
"Alright. I will speak with him about what we talked about." Gabriel turned around, stalking back to the patio door.
Atiqtalaaq sat down where she was previously standing, looking up to the sky. Curling her pointer finger like a hook, she pulled out the ponytail holding her thick, wavy hair up. It all fell to her sides like a curtain, the split ends brushing the snow on the ground.
"Oh, Pinga," she started her prayer, still gazing off into the white sky. She wasn't speaking English, but Inuit, her native language. "Goddess of hunt, fertility and medicine. I pray that the babies born today are all healthy and well. I pray that the deer and geese will be fat for the hunting season in the fall, and for more advancements to be made in sceince."
Doing this kept her from delving off into her thoughts, and helped her clear her mind of her worries, which she was neck deep in at the moment.
"Anaana, how are you doing today?" She was now having a conversation with her mother, who she hoped was listening. "I hope well... For me, I am not well. I am in distress, and in need of your guidence. I have a decision to make, and no matter what I choose something bad could happen. I need you to light the path for me, to lead me to the right decision." She hesitated for a moment, then decided not to say anything more.
Atiqtalaaq opened her eyes, and finally heard the patio door close.