It's too much to bear my darlin', the weight of the world
And I would carry it for you
Parting ways early in the morning, each with one child prepared to spend the day in various lessons, Noah had kissed his wife deeply and promised to return hungry to devour what Margot and her gathered and hunted off the tundra. Then, he headed to the barracks with his son. Yesterday Margot had undergone the same practice, and tomorrow she would again. This day, however, was all for his son.
Noah set the boy up with a ground quiver with six arrows, and placed him at the middle-most target. They spend the morning going over some positioning drills, some drawing drills, and now as the afternoon sun peaked over the walls of the barracks, they were finally shooting arrows.
Three arrows down, and his son melted. "Just breathe, Marcus." Noah said, closing the distance between him and his son. He ruffled the youngling's bronze locks and crouched some. He turned his son by the shoulders and grabbed another arrow. "Aim lower. You've consistently shot over the top, so bring it down almost until you think you might shoot it right into the dirt."
Noah set the boy up with a ground quiver with six arrows, and placed him at the middle-most target. They spend the morning going over some positioning drills, some drawing drills, and now as the afternoon sun peaked over the walls of the barracks, they were finally shooting arrows.
Three arrows down, and his son melted. "Just breathe, Marcus." Noah said, closing the distance between him and his son. He ruffled the youngling's bronze locks and crouched some. He turned his son by the shoulders and grabbed another arrow. "Aim lower. You've consistently shot over the top, so bring it down almost until you think you might shoot it right into the dirt."
