Draw. Knock. Pull. Hold. Aim. Release The twang of a string, the whistle of a projectile cutting through the air. The twang of a sharp vibration when the bare arrowhead struck into a tree. Silence. The wind returns; green and brown swaying at its command. Wait. Can’t shoot, wind will take the arrow.
Draw. Knock. Pull. Hold. Aim. Wait. The breeze caresses skin. Leaves sway. They must stop. A moment longer. Release. Twang. Whistle. Missed. Disappointment.
Final arrow. It’s mine. Draw. Knock. Pull. Hold. Aim. Silence, a cry. More arrows, in the field. The Last Arrow. Too slow. Too confident. Not thinking. Release. Whistle. A cry.
Blood.
Awake now.
