we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight
The second arrow left her bow with a different rhythm—he heard it in the tension of her exhale, the slight shift of her stance, the subtle recalibration of her aim. He surged left first in a deliberate, almost too obvious a dodge and then cut sharply back the opposite way as the arrow whistled toward him. It curved closer this time, her aim clever, anticipating one of the easier paths he could have taken. The fletching brushed the longer fur along his flank as it passed, grazing but not striking. A clean near-miss. She was learning him.
He caught his momentum in a low skid across the gravel, stones scattering beneath his paws and thunking into nearby puddles of mud. He used the slide rather than fought it, tucking weight into his haunches and springing forward again. His tail flicked to correct his balance as he veered toward the leftmost edge of their makeshift field, far enough to force her to turn, but not far enough to break the dance.
He paused only long enough to meet her gaze across the distance, ears pricked, eyes bright with challenge.
[2/4]
He caught his momentum in a low skid across the gravel, stones scattering beneath his paws and thunking into nearby puddles of mud. He used the slide rather than fought it, tucking weight into his haunches and springing forward again. His tail flicked to correct his balance as he veered toward the leftmost edge of their makeshift field, far enough to force her to turn, but not far enough to break the dance.
He paused only long enough to meet her gaze across the distance, ears pricked, eyes bright with challenge.
[2/4]
NOAH
