Heart of Cinders by J. Darlene Everly

Author:J. Darlene Everly [Everly, J. Darlene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wishing Well Books LLC

Chapter 34

Sharp Lessons

“Here, try this bow. I think it will fit you well,” Tristan said, handing me one while he slung the one that he wanted to use over his shoulder.

Tristan knew his way around the archery course. He even moved with more ease, as if he were more comfortable in that space than he was when we threw knives.

Our range at home was one lane with targets placed at different distances, but this one was multiple lanes like the knife range and every other one had two targets, one halfway down and the other at the far end.

He stationed us next to each other, with my lane being one of the double targets. Which was probably good since I wasn’t positive that I would even be able to hit the closer of the two.

“You know the basics?” he asked, standing next to me at the end of the range as if he was going to notch the arrow for me.

“I think I have the basics,” I said, trying not to laugh.

He stepped back with a self-deprecating grin on his face and tipped his head.

My turn to not be good at something.

Nocking the arrow was fine, pulling it back was fine, even anchoring it and setting myself to release it was all fine. But somehow, the chances of me hitting the target or the arrow going so far afield as to be embarrassing was still half and half.

I took a deep breath and let go.

The arrow hooked so far it slammed sideways into a target on a different course.

“Damn it,” I said, and looked wide-eyed at Tristan who just raised his brows at me before he stepped closer.

“You’re not giving the arrow time,” he said, nocking his own and leaning close so I could watch as he faked a shot.

“When you release, you’re moving a split second later to look and see where it lands. But the arrow hasn’t cleared your bow yet, so you’re turning it in the process.”

He went through the motions of releasing an arrow without actually letting go of the one in his hand.

But the second time he did it, in slow motion, he moved a fraction as if he was getting a better look down range.

“I do that?” I asked, trying to run through my movements, even the micro adjustments I made while shooting.

“You do, but it’s an easy thing to fix. Just wait a beat. Count it out even.” He smiled and stepped back into his own lane.

An easy fix. The concept of having anything to do with a training of any discipline be easy was so odd to me I stood dumbfounded as he prepared to shoot.

He had impeccable form, like my mother had when she was working with her own bow and arrows before they were lost with her. There was a relaxed air to the way he held himself when he was shooting, even though it was strong and steady, as if his body mimicked the qualities of the bow and arrow.

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