MELITA
She hadn’t realized that maybe her loud outbursts, though often not harmful in their intent, could be construed as something else entirely. Someone could be offended by the way she spoke; and though it was often laced with good humor, enthusiasm, and sunlit smiles, others could always be offended by it. “Sorry,” she realized after, already not very well versed in instruction. The youth took a step back, surveyed his pose and position, the way he held the line, taut and smooth, nodding when it met with her satisfaction. “I just didn’t want you shooting anyone, or anything, until you had the right approach.” The lithe girl winked, then glanced out into the field. “Let me make some targets first.”She ambled out into the long grass, picking up several stones along the way, as well as some sticks, branches, and already fallen leaves. They’d have to improvise, without paint, without cloth, without hay bales – though the thought crossed her mind to bring him to the newly furnished training area at the Monster Hunter’s guild – but the things around here could also be utilized. Eventually, she’d managed to concoct three rather poor-looking marks, goals, and bulls-eyes, the closest leaning precariously to the left, a stone ambling sideways along a couple boughs stuck into the ground. She shrugged, indifferent to their odd cant, and then bounded back to where Adam waited.
“May I?” She held her arms out for her bow, merely to demonstrate. “Now, once you’ve selected your target, you need to notch your arrow.” She grabbed hold of one in her quiver, openly showing and displaying her methods, before placing it back within her grasp, ready to fire. “Then we aim.” She lifted the weapon, felt the grand weight and arc of it in her hands, a steady breath billowing through her nose. “Pull the string.” Her arm muscles bunched and coiled, her callouses well suited to the practice. “And release.” Her fingers loosened, unleashing the arrow, and it sailed through the air towards the middle target, a fair distance away, not as close as the first, nor as far as the last. It landed dead-center, sticking precariously from a pile of leaves stuffed between a slanted pile of rocks. Then she handed the bow back to Adam, racing forward to retrieve the bolt, before returning for his opportunity. “Your turn.” The youth’s smile was gilded and eager, fervent and ready, hopeful and full of pride – waiting to see how he’d attempt any of the goals.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
