Prologue
I load the bow-and-arrow. Bringing it up to my eye-level, I tilt my head as I aim.
Slowly and carefully I draw back the string. I pause for a moment, feeling the tension building up in my arms.
Crickets chirp. Leaves around me rustle. The sun peeks over the horizon, casting a broad light.
I let go of the arrow. Power surges through my arm.
Slowly and carefully I draw back the string. I pause for a moment, feeling the tension building up in my arms.
Crickets chirp. Leaves around me rustle. The sun peeks over the horizon, casting a broad light.
I let go of the arrow. Power surges through my arm. In a split second it slips with uncontrollable speed, pointed straight for a young buck. The deer tries to run, but its feet don’t move. It’s too late. The arrow hits its heart and knocks it over. Perfect.
Forgetting all the quietness, I dash through the forest and dodge the trees, enjoying the forest that I call my own.
I reach the deer, lying at the bottom of a small valley. I haul it back up to the edge of the forest.
Before leaving, I take a quick look around. How can life be better?
“This how you do it?” Katrina looks up at me, holding in her hands a small bow-and-arrow.
“No…” I fix her hands to hold the arrow right. “Now shoot.”
I watch as she pulls the arrow up near her ear. Her eyebrows furrow as she squints at the target.
“I can’t shoot,” she complains.
“What do you mean, you can’t shoot?”
“I don’t know… it just…”
“It just what?” I keep pushing.
“I don’t know.” She took a seat and set her bow down across her legs. “There’s just so much tension I can’t let go.”
“Let me see.”
I watch carefully as she sets the arrow on the bow perfectly. I observe her every move as she pulls the string back. I wait. Nothing happens for a very long time.
“Well… shoot.”
“I can’t.”
“Okay. Let’s see if this works. Put your bow back up and draw your arrow. Now pull your right hand out to the right side.”
The arrow falls and drops onto her foot.
“What am I doing wrong?”
Katrina’s big brown eyes gaze up at me, questioning. She’s eager to learn, but slow to success.
“I don’t know,” I finally answer before walking away.
Ever since I was really little I’ve always wanted to know how to shoot a bow-and-arrow. So I finally found Scout.
Okay, her real name was Elizabeth, but she nicknamed herself Scout after her favorite book character.
The name fits her.
Anyway, Scout’s been hunting every since she was five. She refused guns and went for the bow-and-arrow.
I’ve seen her hunt. She’s really good, so I asked her to teach me.
I was so excited when she began to teach me.
We got started fast. I picked it up as I’ve seen in movies.
“This how you do it?” I ask. I observe as her eyes cloud with disapproval.
“No…” She fixes my hands. Her fingers are rough. “Now shoot.”
I feel mostly confident, except for the little speck of self-doubt that I tried to fight off. It didn’t go away.
Even so, I pull the arrow up to my ear. Something’s wrong. I frown.
“I can’t shoot,” I sigh, upset.
“What do you mean, you can’t shoot?” Scout’s voice rises.
“I don’t know… it just…” Why can’t I shoot? I get it all ready and try to move my fingers, but I just stay still.
“It just what?” Scout keeps going. I don’t like this. How can I explain?
“I don’t know.” All this was making me exhausted. I sat down. Where do I put the bow? I look around before laying it across my legs. There’s an awkward silence.
“There’s just so much tension I can’t let go.”
My works hand in midair. This time, Scout breaks the silence.
“Let me see.”
I drag myself up and set the bow-and-arrow in position. I take a deep breath and draw the arrow. Then I stop. What’s happening? I glance toward Scout. Her expression worries me.
I need to do this, I need to…
“Well… shoot.”
“I can’t.”
“Okay. Let’s see if this works. Put your bow back up and draw your arrow. Not pull your right hand out to the side.
I do as she says and prepare to pull my hand away.
‘This had better work,’ I thought.
I pull my hand outward. The arrow bounces off my foot.
“What am I doing wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Scout mumbles before leaving me.
Tears fill up my eyes. Fine, I’ll learn. I’ll learn my myself, if I have to.
I turn to face the target.
Epilogue
After a nice rest I sit down on the porch. I wonder how long ago Katrina went home.
A sound comes from the barn, thin and light. The door is open, but I choose a small crack off to the side. I bring my bow-and-arrow.
I peek through the crack. Katrina was in the barn. She loaded her bow and shot.
Bull’s-eye.
