MELITA
“Balls,” Melita hissed as the arrow missed. It was a rarity that her arrows didn’t puncture or pierce, her aim usually true (if we weren’t talking about cannons). Her eyes watched Maeve’s whip rally, and Ray’s attuned nature going forth, hoping some movements would work this time. Sighing under her breath, a whisper growled and murmured its way through too. “I’ll get you this time, fucker,” as if it was an emboldened promise. Snagging at another arrow from the lightning quiver, she notched it once more, following through on rallying motions, targeting the beast’s flank once again. Then she let it fly – watching it snap and sizzle and spark through the air.
--
Melita tries to shoot the tiger with an electric arrow again.
She's so hard to please
But she's a forest fire
But she's a forest fire
