@princesamouel
The wind ripples through the staging area of the archery contest. Joan looks over everything carefully, her amber eyes scan all the targets as well as all of her competition. The majority of them were men and probably had a superiority complex, especially about being beaten by a woman. Now this would be fun.
She stands up from the wooden bench. Grabbing her now and placing her arrows on her back. She wears the uniform of the King’s Army. Showing that she is representing them in this tournament, especially since she isn’t of a noble house. Her captain pulled a few strings to have her represent the army. She would be forever grateful to him. This was a dream come true to participate in a royal archery competition. Her gaze falls to the other competitors again before her name is called.
“Joan Caddick of Ynys Reti, representing His Majesty Royal Army.”
She gives a bow to the Royal box and then a wave to the crowd. Her adrenaline pumping through every vein of her body. She is so excited she could burst with joy. Calm down Joan, Calm down. You are here to do an archery competition. Breathing deeply and closing her eyes for just a moment. Her mind begins to focus on her bow. Just her bow and nothing else, not the sound of the crowds or the other competitors just her bow. Her brown eyes reopen and there is “The Archer of the West.” The best shot in all of Tir Hydref.
