Phoenix was very excited, very, very excited.
As long as she could pull the trigger, and the target wasn't just a bullseye but could be hit, she would feel tremendously excited.
To be precise, it wasn't excitement but joy. Whether it was a wild chicken, a wild duck, a bear, a wild boar, or even a person, as long as the shooting target was a living thing and it was hit, Phoenix would feel an indescribable thrill.
The feeling of killing was incomparably wonderful, indescribably ecstatic, and the ultimate enjoyment.
Phoenix knew her hobby wasn't normal. Hunting is a human instinct, but to like it and even enjoy it to her extent, that indeed wasn't normal, and Phoenix knew this, so she never shared her joy with anyone; she just quietly enjoyed it.
