Better than you expected?

Python raises an eyebrow in vague disgust as Tobin starts licking his arm like a damn stray cat.  What the hell had he gotten himself into?  

“…Alright, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t see that,” he says, eating the last wedge himself and tossing the empty peel into a bush.  Chewing slowly, he surveys the disaster Tobin has made of the shooting range.  He’s already vaguely regretting his promise- he doesn’t have a damn idea how to teach someone to shoot.  A fancy-pants bow knight likely wouldn’t even think he’s doing it right, but he’s always made things work without proper forms and training.  Hopefully Tobin will be able to make sense of whatever help he can provide.

With a sigh, he crosses his legs, making no move to get up from the log.  “First things first, I guess.  You’ve got arrows just about everywhere ‘cept the target, go pick ‘em up.  After that, you can show me what you’ve got and I’ll see if I can tell you what you’re doin’ wrong.”

“What? Oh c’mon! You can’t tell me you’ve never done that at least once. How else was I supposed to get it off?” Tobin replied somewhat defensively, though he was mostly just sulking. While they had a great deal in common as a result of their similar prospective and social economic status, it was clear that the difference in maturity was vast. Tobin was still a child and barely an adult, whereas Python had long crossed that milestone.

Once Tobin recovered from his short-lived moping, he nodded and straightened, “Alright.” Glancing about, he began to pick up the arrows one by one, ensuring that he grabbed them by the shaft to prevent damaging them any further than he already had. After a while of collecting and scanning, he returned with twenty-three arrows in tow. He was sure that he had shot off twenty-five, but he had hardly a clue of where they had ended up. Maybe it was better for his self-esteem if he didn’t know. 

He dropped the stack beside him on the ground, standing at a line he had etched himself into the dirt earlier that morning using his heel. Then, he shot off a few arrows, mostly creating yet another sea of land fallen arrows. However, it was clear just by ten shots that Tobin was making common mistakes. His footing had been completely inconsistent for every shot and he wasn’t holding his elbow straight when he used the bow. While his finger placement was solid, he spent so much time focusing on his aim that he failed to pay attention to which muscles he was using when finally sending the arrow off.

Running. Deirdre had first become fairly skilled at it as a child, though she quickly realized that trees and streams did not make for an ideal course. Adolescence, and the paranoia of living alone, found her occasionally making a swift exit from a scene. Granted, that did not help her keep a low profile.

Running beside another person was different-keeping pace, not crowding them, just being aware of their presence was something that was foreign to Deirdre. It was much easier to be aware of the forest, though it was not the one she called home.

She tried not to think of their pursuer. She failed. Finally, it made a move to catch them, but-

Water caused her shawl to twist in the stream, catching it on a log. Ah! Panicking, she attempted to wrest it from the wood.

In her struggle she called out to Tobin. “Can you swim? I can, but…” Turning in a different direction, she saw that her companion was right about their foe: It appeared unable to enter the stream.

The water of the stream shocked his system the moment he landed into its chilled embrace, but Tobin recovered quickly, swimming to the surface with ease. Once he emerged, he gasped down a large breath of air, still panting from the dash that carried him to safety. He opened his eyes, ignoring the water that dripped into them as he glanced about. Swimming came naturally to him, as his youth involved playing in the stream near Ram frequently. While most of the waterways were at most knee deep, there were a few deep portions of water that he and his friends played in countless times. 

Glancing to the land, Tobin was relieved as he watched the creature turn about aimlessly, unable to locate their scent after they entered the water. That was way too close for comfort. That definitely could have turned out bad. He thought as he watched the creature begin to wander in the opposite direction. It was then he registered Deirdre calling out to him, which demanded his attention. Cutting through the moderate flow of the stream, Tobin swam to reach her, looking to her with concern.

“What’s wrong?” He then noticed the shawl she held in hand, which appeared to be twisted under the water’s surface, “oh. Sorry...guess I wasn’t thinking about what you were wearing. That’s not really practical for swimming.” He said, though he didn’t mean any malice by it. He paused, considering what they could do in the situation. He did have a knife, if the shawl didn’t mean anything to her.

a song for bygone days

Despite his fear, Gray looked around for evidence of adults before he called back up to his friend, anger starting to filter through the numbing terror. “Bullshit you planned that! Can you stop thinking of yourself for one second? You’re so focused on saving face you aren’t thinking about everyone else! It’s scaring me!” He took a deep breath to try to calm the fear and anger crawling it’s way up his back.

“Your ma and pa don’t have to find out, but we need an adult! I don’t really want to owe Tilde a favor, but if that’s what it takes to get you down safely, I’ll do it.” Gray fervently ignored the memories of the last time he’d owed his older sister a favor. He’d found himself paying his debt in the early hours of the morning with a combination of sacrilege and pie theft he’d never before considered possible.

Gray leaned his head against the trunk of the tree. “Tobin, look, if you get hurt and I could have done anything to prevent it I don’t think I could forgive myself. Ok? Please, let me get help.”

Tobin tensed at Gray’s scolding, but quieted. Despite all the noise that clouded his thoughts and fueled his anxieties, it always seemed that Gray was always able to snap him back into realizing what was truly important. While he was generally concerned with how everyone viewed him, his best friend had an edge over them...trust. Out of all of his friend and family, Gray was person Tobin trusted the most. Maybe because of that, his opinion mattered the most to him as well. He peered down, this time the dizziness far less than what it had been previously.

Stubbornly, Tobin bit his lip. As childish as it was, he was still holding onto the the fact he didn’t want anyone to find out, be it Alm or Gray’s sister. At the time, he was acutely aware that he wasn’t able to get down on his own. Not when his legs felt weaker than that of a newborn calf. He had to choose a poison and if he was honest, Gray’s sister was the better option. If his parents found out, he was sure he would never hear the end of it and the last stressor he needed in his life was to be criticized for climbing a tree far too large. At least Gray’s sister wouldn’t rag on him for too long.

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