The Archers

Chapter 2 Orientation

The flaps of the tent’s entrance were pulled back, giving Joan a full view of the inside. Her “opponents” were already there waiting, attired in their matching uniforms. When she stepped inside, the constant chatter she had approached to; stopped and all eyes fixated on her. Their “sizing” her up could not have been more apparent as she scanned around the room, looking for the familiar face of Jonathan Parker, who was now walking towards her.

Any other day, his approach would have immediately sent butterflies swarming to her stomach, but this day, it gave relief.  With the many pairs of eyes that bore into her this moment, the feeling she felt now in that region would not be credited to him.

His hand took hers when he reached her and immediately those butterflies came fluttering back.  An improvement to what her poor stomach was enduring before. He pulled her gently over to a corner and the chatter resumed.

“Here, put this on and just listen, ok.” He instructed her and handed the matching shirt to his. She nodded and slipped it over her head. “We’re partners and are called Sector Sparrow, hence the bird emblem and brown color.” She nodded. “There are six sectors all together, I will tell you about each one later. Since you are here now, the advisors should be here any minute to orientate us.” He quickly explained.

Joan nodded again, the minute his blue eyes looked down into hers, she was rendered speechless. Being a good seven inches taller than she, he had to look down.  In fact everyone in the room was taller than her. Joan was considered petite; her shape was nothing voluptuous, yet nor was it boyish. She had a small chest and tiny waist. She believed she was pretty, but no grand champion.

As for Jonathan Parker, he was every bit the image of perfection.  With disheveled chestnut brown hair, hypnotic blue eyes, flawless tan skin that never seemed to fade and dimples to tote. Yep… he was the essence of perfection; at least to her.

“Joan…”

She blinked.

“Turn around, their here.” He told her and turned her himself.

Standing in the front stood a man and woman. Both seemed chiseled from the purest substance created; the ambiance of them proclaimed powerful and leadership. The man spoke and his deep voice somehow resonated around the canvas room. If anyone had been speaking before, they were not now.

“Welcome competitors! I’ll make this quick as not to bore you returning ones; keep to the rules in the arena, that’s my house. Outside of it, it’s your rules. Commencement starts bright and early tomorrow; curfew tonight, is ten. Other days it will be nine. Chow starts in half an hour.  Schedule sheets for tomorrow have been placed in your tents. For you new ones, one is provided each night until the competition has ended. Goodnight and good luck everyone!” He pronounced and the beautifully chiseled couple left.

Jonathan grabbed her hand and quickly pulled her outside. “Where are we going?” she asked him as he pulled her along towards the resident tents.

“We’re going to see just how good you are.” He told her.

“That’s easy, I’m not. I’ve never played before.” She answered for him.

He shook his head and dropped her hand when they reached his tent. “Don’t be so quick to say that.” He told her and disappeared inside. A second later he returned with a bow and some arrows. “Come with me, I want to show you something.” He told her and walked off. Joan followed after him over to an open field with targets lined at one end; a practice field.

He handed her the bow and an arrow. “Load it and shoot.” He told her.

“I already told you, I’ve never played before.” She repeated.

“Just do it.” He demanded. She sighed and took the bow and loaded the arrow. “Look how easily you did that.” He pointed out.

 “I wasn’t that hard, but holding this string is.” She pointed back.

“Aim and shoot then.” He told her.

Joan closed one eye and looked down the field to the target. She lined herself up at where felt right and let go. The arrow shot out and flew towards its target, a millisecond later hitting the center, dead on.

“Bulls eye!” he declared.

“It was a lucky shot.” She told him, but secretly proud.

“Are you sure, why not try it again.” He suggested and held out another arrow.

She rolled her eyes and took it. Once again she loaded it and took her aim. Another millisecond later the arrow split the first one and hit the bulls’ eye again.

“Do it again.” He said, holding another arrow for her. She took it this time without protest; having two arrows land dead center on the target, Joan was just as excited as he  to see what would happen the third time. And just as the first two, the third arrow took its place on the bulls’ eye mark of the target.