MELITA
The youth didn’t catch Adam’s mumbling; too busy creating her targets. She wouldn’t have laughed at him though, because she knew and understood a lack of precision, the weight of impulsivity, the increasing need to succeed, even when it blistered right back in one’s face. But they could also always learn from it, seek to drive and ground themselves; a lesson she’d frequently had to face.But she did watch him keenly as he followed her instructions, the same blinding, encouraging smile along her lips, witnessing him notch the arrow, then following its movements as it flew through the air. It managed to clip the target, an endeavor she considered successful. “Look at you!” She lowered her voice to a whisper, as if it were devious and scheming. “The first time I shot an arrow, it landed at my feet. Well done.” She followed it up with a wink before going to retrieve the weapon, returning to give her advice.
So he wasn’t used to aiming with two hands; which must’ve meant the gun only required one. “Hm. What I like to do is aim and point with my drawing hand,” she indicated, asking for the bow back so she could show him. “There’s a difference. If you aim with just the arrow tip,” and here she displayed – notching the arrow, using it to try and figure out where to go on the third target, and allowing it to be flung into the ether – it landed beyond the goal entirely. “It goes too far.” She took another arrow from her quiver, letting the other rest in the grass for the moment so she could demonstrate what little sagacity she’d gained over the years. “So if I point with this hand, like so,” and she lowered it, so her hands, her fingers, indicated where the arrow was going to travel, and then repeated the same gestures. “It should land…” and an audible thunk was heard, meshing into the poorly-constructed rock formation, dead-center again. “There.”
She tilted her head and gave the bow back. “Try again?”
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
