To deal with my ntal state, I figured that I needed to do sothing at least a little relaxing. I found a suitable clearing about fifty yards from where I’d pulled out the shipping container - far enough that any missed shots would not likely strike my makeshift den.
A few fallen trunks at least as thick as my torso would make sufficient archery targets, since I’m not overly concerned about arrow integrity. I spent several minutes finding those of a size that I could pull into the Stash and learning how to ’summon’ them in the directions I needed.
Several more minutes went by carving concentric circles into the center one’s surface, with one of the hunting knives. To create crude but functional target rings, like the kind I’d used before - and a little like Helene had seen the Ogas of her pack using.
> Might have been quicker to do this with claws, but not as pretty. And this is sort of calming. <
The outer third ring is as far from the second as my spread hand, with the center about the size of my fist. On a whim, I also notched out the very center point, no bigger than a coin. I didn’t expect to hit that spot today, but luck sotis played a factor.
The compound bow I’d hooked on my backpack with a carabiner and simple knot of rope... felt alien in my hands when actually thinking to use it. The lessons I’d been given by my brother could not prepare for modern engineering, though the tutorial video I watched before coming out here helped.
I wrapped my hands in strips of cloth torn from one of the hunter’s old shirts before handling the silver-tipped arrows. Even through fabric, I could almost feel the tal’s hostile energy against my werewolf nature - a cold burning tingle that made my hairs stand up.
"Feels a bit like so magic from my world. I guess that’s a sort of proof it does exist in a form here. Might be wishful thinking."
Vrika sent back impressions of concern and curiosity. My wolf understood the danger to us but was intrigued by my continued reference to magic. And perhaps my determination to master this human weapon, despite claims to have been born a beast.
Nocking the first arrow felt clumsy compared to the fluid motion I rembered developing in my youth. The bow’s ’let-off’ kicked in at full draw, suddenly reducing the weight I had to hold. The sensation was expected... yet I nearly released early anyway.
> I’m reacting as if the string had snapped its tension. I guess I didn’t have much chance to get over that accident in the past, huh? <
The arrow I shot flew wide, yet embedded itself in bark anyway. Two yards to the left of my target - in a poor living tree whose low branches I was using to brace the fallen logs against.
"Fantastic start."
I muttered while stalking the twenty yards over to retrieve it. The tip had bitten deep into the bark - showing that these arrows fired from this tool weren’t just deadly to werewolves, they were devastating to anything they hit. Silver coating... but steel heads.
The second shot went better - because I moved up a few yards - but struck low. The third was a bit too high. Each miss frustrated more than the last. My form felt wrong in this body, my timing felt off from my ideal.
Everything about this bow demanded subtly different muscle mory than what Ravi had taught . What’s more, it was a skill I hadn’t used consistently for more than a decade and a half. His patient voice echoed in my mory for just a mont before I shoved it aside.
I didn’t need ghosts of the past interfering with the present. He’s not here to help. He wasn’t there to help. I can do this all on my own.
By the tenth shot, I was really starting to find the bow’s particular rhythm. The pulleys engaged smoothly, the release timing felt cleaner. My eleventh arrow actually hit inside the second ring instead of thunking only around it.
"Progress."
Not feeling particularly encouraged with how close I am to the target, I speak aloud about my small success anyway. The late afternoon sun broke through clouds as I continued practicing. Sweat slowly dampened my shirt despite the cool air.
My shoulders ached from the exercise because I told Vrika not to fix anything as I re-learned this skill... and my wrapped fingers were growing sore from the bowstring as I regretted that choice.
But gradually, inevitably, new muscle mory began to assert itself. My stance widened and settled as I beca more consistent. The arrows started clustering closer to my fist sized target.
Despite a whining desire to keep Helene’s body in better condition, which I probably should with the baby inside, my wolf still seed to approve of this streak of less destructive independence. Even sending impressions of satisfaction as my form improved.
The compound’s power was honestly remarkable for sothing an average strength human could wield. The arrows entered wood with a satisfying sound... and they were occasionally quite troubleso to retrieve.
And since I was limited on available ammunition, I did so frequently. Despite also splintering two shafts as an hour passed. Then another as twilight finally edged toward night. I’d lost myself in the ditative rhythm of draw, aim, release. Retrieve arrows, repeat.
But it wasn’t the sa sort of fog as I held before. It was serenity, not shock. Sothing I hadn’t possessed in quite so ti. During the final retrieval, with only one arrow left functional, I noticed a pulsing blue glow in the corners of my vision.
| TASK: Strike Center Within 3 Hrs |
| TASK COMPLETION ✓ |
| REWARD IMMINENT ⚝ |
I blinked at the interface’s text. I’d been so focused on my practice that I hadn’t noticed the system glow warning of it assigning a new objective. Yet again, it has given one that I might have already been doing even without its suggestion.
"You really do seem to be working towards the sa goals I am. But why?"
Speaking to the empty air made feel crazy. But I couldn’t help but wonder. So of the interface notifications label as ’chosen’. I had assud that was for a purpose and that it wanted to lead toward it.
Which may still be true, but if so? It is giving far too much free will. Not just that, it is aiding in ways that I would find helpful, personally. There’s still a chance it is lulling into trusting it implicitly.
As I examined the target, I realized several tis had indeed struck within the coin sized notch I made. At least based on the holes and marks left after pulling the arrowheads free. And I feel really happy about that.
"Aw... should have taken pictures..."
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