Not the village, not yet; all the running and excitement had gotten to her, and she stopped in by what passed for a diner for a special treat. “You're not wrong, love.” the worker had told her, after setting a plate of apple pie and a tall glass of milk by her. Bree sighed as she took her hat off and hung it off the back of the chair. “I know. But it isn't my fight. I'm an outsider. If this place wants to change, it has to go along it's own, official channels. If I try anything, it'll just ruin everything.” she stated, looking incredibly tired and pale under her freckles, even as she whittled off a small piece of the pie and stuck it in her mouth. “Maybe so.” the worker admitted, running a rag over the counter, but he hesitated. Bree eyed him warily, even as she stuck more pie into her mouth. She knew something was coming, and she was fairly sure she wasn't going to like it. “The ban isn't official.” the man said, slowly, as he rubbed at a particularly stubborn spot. Bree sipped on the whole milk, the rare treat refreshingly cold against the hot pie. She didn't speak, though she tried to recall the exact wording of the village's charter. Her recall was fuzzy, but she assumed that an actual inhabitant would know more about it than she would. “It just refers to village-owned firearms within the village's hunting land. If, say, we were to get a hold of outside firearms, and practice elsewhere, it'd be perfectly legal.” Bree was making negative noises before he had even finished. “You're assuming I have extra firearms. And a place to practice. And that I'd be willing to risk my trading here.” Unbidden, she began thinking if she had any guns that would be good for their purpose. She had traded many of hers away already, saving just her self defense pistol and revolver. Then again, there was quite a few of the cases that she hadn't touched since she had first raided the gun stores years ago. “I'll see what I can find.” she finally, reluctantly stated, eyes flicking down. “And I'll have to find enough ammo... how many people would we be talking here?” she asked, mentally tallying the number of kids and women she had seen. “a dozen, maybe?” Bree bit her lip and sighed. “That's a lot. I'd have to find...six hundred rounds, at the very least, just to get basic experience.” The problem wasn't how much the rounds would cost – she'd never bought a round in her life – but where she could even find that many, especially in a region as well picked over as theirs.

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