We've been shown how not to live by gracious kings of old
The familiar sense of satisfaction rolled through the attuned as his arrow struck, and ignited, the aerial target. It would have normally made a burst of a smile pull at his cheeks, but he was too focused now. His face has solidified again as stone, his eyes hardened and narrowed and watching the target. It shifted in the air a moment, half ablaze, before suddenly it was soaring toward him.
Noah's eyes widened and he leapt. His body curled to the side in a somersault movement, chin tucked and his bow held carefully. He felt the arrows rolling around in his quiver, but as he scrambled for purchase again there were none on the ground. Relieved that he had not dropped any of his ammunition, he quickly drew another arrow, nocked and shot, aiming for the erratically moving, wounded target. He did not dare look away from it, even though part of him wanted to look up at Deimos and released the building tension of the laugh in his belly.
This was proving to be a worthy training session.
NOAH
