The Nathren Disturbance

We were on an island training for something. I am actually not sure what for.  We were in an outdoor arena, or something, circular, with a few bleacher benches.  The man that was supposed to lead had to leave.  I don't remember why.  He asked a woman to take over.  She was almost cartoonish, very skinny, wore a long plaid dress, very pale, had a short Beatles haircut.  She point to one of us and asked for a demonstration.  He was an older man, shaggy, grey hair, stubble on his face, a very pronounced chin and nose.  He stood up, sheepishly.  He pulled out a rifle.  The skinny woman had a baby in her arm, wrapped in a blanket.  She pulled it closer, to protect it.  "No guns!" she yelled.
He pulled it towards him like he didn't know what to do with it.
Another woman handed me (I think), a rabbit.
The man with the gun turned and accidentally fired.
Here it is a bit confusing.  I think he shot me in the stomach, where I was holding the rabbit, but simultaneously the baby was also hurt.
The skinny woman looked around all of for help, but they were all backing away.
She looked at me, "please, help me!", she said, then looked at the baby.
"I can't," I said.  I looked down at the rabbit.  "It's dying".  I knew I was choosing the rabbit's life over the baby's.  It wasn't that the rabbit was more important, just that it was my responsibility.

labelloupegunloupeislandlouperabbit             language