So she tried to take her mind off of it by throwing herself into a past time she hadn't picked up in months. Playing her fiddle. Molly had seated herself on the outskirts of the training field on a rock, and had her instrument tucked under her chin and the bow drawn. Her fingers flexed on the strings, but the action made them feel strained. She felt terribly out of practice, but years of doing this made the muscle memory easy. The hunter drew the bow across the strings, flinching a bit at how rusty she sounded, before she started to ease back into it.
The music seemed to fit her mood. Sad.
Nyxtsuki Moon