Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
Melita stared at Maeve. Blinked a few times, then narrowed her eyes suspiciously, as if trying to peruse through why this would be a thing. Sure, she’d climbed quite a few trees, stumps, logs, cliffs, to get better vantage points, but launching from them while shooting hadn’t been a thing. Concentration honed within the motion and movement of the bow, the line of her sight – if that was interrupted…
And then she watched as Maeve…stepped onto her own dragon, leapt off, and hit the target in the rafters.
She looked at Fangorn. Too squishy. She looked at Sila. Too young and small. She looked at a bucket nearby, and went to overturn it.
Gods this felt dumb.
But she’d snag at her bow, take her running leap, feel the bucket underneath her give way, slide under her foot, and cause her to misstep, sending the arrow clinging to a different portion in the ceiling.
She growled and wrinkled her nose at it.
And then she watched as Maeve…stepped onto her own dragon, leapt off, and hit the target in the rafters.
She looked at Fangorn. Too squishy. She looked at Sila. Too young and small. She looked at a bucket nearby, and went to overturn it.
Gods this felt dumb.
But she’d snag at her bow, take her running leap, feel the bucket underneath her give way, slide under her foot, and cause her to misstep, sending the arrow clinging to a different portion in the ceiling.
She growled and wrinkled her nose at it.
Melita
