Marcus
Turn the rich into wine as you walk on the mean
The whistle split the stillness, but Marcus had already loosed his first arrow before it even finished cutting through the air. It wasn’t reaction so much as timing earned through repetition—shoulders aligned, breath held, release clean. The first sandgrouse never even had the chance to fully understand the danger. It dropped clean, feathers not even scattering as it hit the ground near the water’s edge.
Only then did the clearing erupt. Wings burst upward in a violent churn of motion, the flock breaking in every direction at once. The jungle swallowed sound and amplified it all at once with beating wings, snapping branches, startled calls ricocheting through dense green. Marcus was already moving to nock his second arrow, taking the time that felt too long to locate his second shot. His eyes tracked not the chaos, but the structure inside it. The patterns beneath the panic. His father’s voice surfaced somewhere behind thought, reminding him.
A second bird cut across his field of view, sharper and faster than the first wave. He shot, but it went wide. Despite the clenching of his jaw, there was no hesitation that followed it. He was already reaching for another arrow, steady despite the chaos around him. Birds scattered through every layer of the canopy now, some vanishing into the treeline, others looping back unpredictably like they couldn’t decide where safety was. Marcus tracked them anyway, and let another arrow out. His third shot brought another down, the landing of it muffled by the dense jungle foliage.
Only then did the clearing erupt. Wings burst upward in a violent churn of motion, the flock breaking in every direction at once. The jungle swallowed sound and amplified it all at once with beating wings, snapping branches, startled calls ricocheting through dense green. Marcus was already moving to nock his second arrow, taking the time that felt too long to locate his second shot. His eyes tracked not the chaos, but the structure inside it. The patterns beneath the panic. His father’s voice surfaced somewhere behind thought, reminding him.
A second bird cut across his field of view, sharper and faster than the first wave. He shot, but it went wide. Despite the clenching of his jaw, there was no hesitation that followed it. He was already reaching for another arrow, steady despite the chaos around him. Birds scattered through every layer of the canopy now, some vanishing into the treeline, others looping back unpredictably like they couldn’t decide where safety was. Marcus tracked them anyway, and let another arrow out. His third shot brought another down, the landing of it muffled by the dense jungle foliage.
