The Lost

Autumn

Lyn

White, green, white.
Three rings, three sizes, one target.

I stared hard at the rings of paint smeared onto the tree. There were little notches in the bark from previous arrows- definitely not my arrows- and the rain had weathered the paint a little now, but the centre was still clear as day. The target, the bullseye, the centre— whatever. It was what I had to hit.
Kovu had advised me to think of it like the heart of an animal, but that just made me feel bad for killing something. Birk had shrugged when I asked him for advice. The only weapon he handled nowadays was scissors and little tiny knives, though the twins told me that he had been very good at sword fighting when they were little. The twins— they were never any help with anything other than showing me how to tie my cloak up in a nice way. They just had a way to make the knot at the front look so perfect...

"How long are you going to hold it like that?" He murmured from behind me. My hand wobbled a little at the interruption in my concentration.
"Don't distract me." I breathed in reply. I adjusted the position of my arms. Felt the strain in that space between my shoulders, aching...
Ronnie had been helpful, that I had to admit. He was as bad with a bow as Aspen was with a sword, but he had sat and watched me practice, fetched my arrows when they went flying off target, held a lantern so I could see when it grew dark.

Not that it had matter. For the life of me, I still couldn't hit the target!
My right hand uncurled itself to send the arrow flying loose and wild. It curved away from the target and tumbled off into the weeds. Like always. Very much a miss. Another miss.

I sighed heavily. This is impossible.
"You should apologise to that arrow for wasting it."
I slumped on the floor. I think he might have laughed.
"I can't do this." I groaned into the floor. He actually did laugh at that, though I wasn't joking. I looked up at Aspen's face with a huff.

He was standing cross-armed, his own bow hung delicately over his shoulder, looking off to where my arrow had disappeared to. Much to his mother's disapproval, Aspen's blonde hair was down to his shoulders now. I thought he looked very grown-up when he was in his scout uniform, with his bow and his long hair. He looked older than his age— tall, like Wren was back in the tribe across the lake.
He considered my horrific aim, then smiled, "Here. Watch."

I sat up when he slid his bow from his shoulder. It was far bigger than mine... the wood far older. Aria had told me it was his dad's. River, his dad had been called. I had never seen a picture of him, but everyone said Aspen looked very much like him since he returned from disappearing with Azure.
Maybe that's why Aria didn't like his long hair. Maybe it made her sad to think about Aspen's dad...

When he out an arrow loose it was quick and sharp... obviously perfectly on target. The arrowhead had sunk into the wood before I had blinked.
"How did you do that?" Was all I could ask, awestruck. Secretly a little annoyed. How was Aspen so good at this?
He smiled at me like he was the wisest person alive, then tapped the side of his head, "You think too much before you shoot."
What? That made no sense at all. "Wh- well I have to aim, don't I? How am I supposed to hit anything if I don't aim?"
"Of course you have to aim," he rolled his eyes, "I'm not telling you not to aim."
"Well I can't aim without thinking about it, can I genius?"
"Do you want my help or not?"
I crossed my arms and pouted, mumbling a yes. Aspen was the only person I hadn't asked for help— I couldn't bear the thought of him knowing I was hopeless with a bow... but now he did, so I would just have to get on with it.

"Alright then. Listen." He gave my own lengthening hair a humorous tug as he walked over to my right side, "You can't hold that string back forever while you think about where you're shooting. This is only practice. You want to actually shoot things, right? So most of the time they'll be moving. If you walk along with this string pulled back, you'll get tired, then your hands starts shaking," he smiled, "How are you supposed to hit anything with a shaky hand?" He mimicked my complaining voice.
I sighed. I didn't feel particularly annoyed anymore, just defeated. Two months and I was still nowhere near him or Vern's archery skills.
"Come on, up you get. We don't have much time."