[Training] A good thing to catch

set aside your soul

It’s her final shot that gets him.

The lynx lunged to the side, muscles still humming with the sharp, electric rhythm of the chase. But, the slightest miscalculation in his footing sent his right front leg out from underneath him, the rock his toes landed on unsteady on the dirt. Were he in human form, a not-so-subtle shit may have slipped from his lips, but in lynx form it was a short hiss followed by a greater yowl as her arrow scraped across his back.

Shallow but scorching, the cut dragged heat across his back, a clear testament to the sharpness she carried in her quiver. He kept moving, finishing the arc of the dodge on momentum alone before coming to a stop several paces away. His tail flicked once, irritated only by the way his back smarted at every step, but also begrudgingly impressed. She’d tracked him well.

The pain stung, but it was clean. Manageable.

He drew in a breath, fur lifting and settling as he released the last remnants of tension. He shifted, then. As he rotated his torso and pulled his thin jacket from his shoulders he winced, pulling in a sharp breath between his lips. ”Good shot,” he chuckled, ”didn’t think you’d catch me on the last one.” His chuckle turned into another wince from the burning of the wound as he pulled his shirt over his head, turning so she could see the wound, as he waited patiently for the healing.

[4/4]

Noah

let tomorrow realize itselt

Thought by now maybe I woulda learned my lesson

Success is a thing that snaps into her with all the jolting chaos of multitudes trying to pass off as something singular. First, undeniably so, a deep rush of satisfaction swarms her like a flame set loose in a dry field. It engulfs everything for a moment, bright and quick and hot with its victory. It's brief as much as it is beautiful, and once it's out of fuel, it sputters out into nothing. This is where her raised, celebratory hands and breath suddenly falter. All the ash of her awareness crumbles into worry, the char of it on her tongue as she grinds out an "Oh, shit." Her hands thump back to her sides, lifted brows pinching into concern. She slings her bow over her back and moves to step towards him now.

Man once more, her gaze rises with his reshaping, focus wholly on the score across his shoulder. That he's still got the good nature to praise her, much less laugh about the injury, softens the landing of the eager hand she sets on his arm. Nothing deep enough to leave him screaming or dying then, good. Still, her fingers press mildly on his uninjured skin as she inspects the red line her aim left, gaze lifting briefly from his wound to his eyes, a flicker of amusement and pride there before her attention drops back down to appraise the damage. "Thanks," she huffs before removing the extension of her touch. "Looks like it didn't go deep, which is good. All thanks to your fancy footwork." An easier smile settles in now that the risk has been evaluated and found to be meager, though one 'brow arches as she catches on the expectant way he positions himself. "C'mon," she offers with a tip of her head towards the road behind them. "Let me buy you a drink in town. Tavern's got a healer or two around usually. We can patch you up inside and out." She turns to start to head that way, glancing back for him.

[FIN]

Colt

The grip you got on me is really quite impressive