the moon only shines with the help of the sun
Marcus knew that glowing. He knew that light. His father was feeling, and feeling strongly. That light was one of his first memories -- a stone he stood firm on, just as firm as the innate, cellular memory of his mother's warmth and strength. Heat began to rise in the boy's cheeks again, and a gnawing feeling tugged at the bottom of his belly. He did not want to disappoint his father. He wanted his father to look on him with this same pride -- this glowing (literally), overflowing pride -- for the rest of his days.
So Marcus narrowed his focus on the target. He steadied himself. He took a breath. He breathed again. And again. He centered himself for what felt like ages, until finally he held himself by the core and drew. With another breath, he released. The arrow whizzed through the air toward the target and--
Thunk.
Sunk into the outer most ring.
Marcus sucked in another breath and jumped straight into the air, turning mid-jump to face Noah, and threw himself into his father's arms.
So Marcus narrowed his focus on the target. He steadied himself. He took a breath. He breathed again. And again. He centered himself for what felt like ages, until finally he held himself by the core and drew. With another breath, he released. The arrow whizzed through the air toward the target and--
Thunk.
Sunk into the outer most ring.
Marcus sucked in another breath and jumped straight into the air, turning mid-jump to face Noah, and threw himself into his father's arms.
it's not as safe when your walking alone
