The Range

She was alive, more alive than she had ever felt. Anger, love, loss, and pleasure all surged within filling her completely; muscles flexed, nerves tingling. Even wrapped in the stillness, the barrier between her and the inferno of emotion, she was nearly consumed by passion. Sweat poured down her face, soaking her white Anointed’s dress. Ahead of her, she marked the painted targets out to five-hundred spans. She conducted her inner tempest at the first. As if by a giant invisible grinder, it was ripped apart. She smelled the sawdust from this range. Pleasure pounded within; she destroyed the rest.