I set my bow and arrow back down, shaking off a feeling unease, promising myself I’d return to practice each day. A quick look down the line of various targets showed more of the same. When my eyes searched, I found no other marks on the cloth body except the one I’d made in the shoulder. Over the dummy’s heart was a deep crevasse, as if it had been struck there repeatedly. When I went to retrieve the arrow, I stared in confusion. I released my arrow with a clean zing and gasped at how smooth it sailed, embedding into a shoulder. I nocked an arrow and steadied my gaze at a life-sized target of a man.
Smooth, light wood, both strong and pliable, with fire-etched vines along its length.
And just as Renae had promised, a bow was waiting in my exact size, finer than any I’d ever beheld. I finally made my way out of the celebration maze and came upon the archery range.
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