Solo [Bronze Woods] Trees Are Targets.

[Medhozic]

82nd of Winter, 513AV. He'd worked in the forests before, training himself in using a bow. He needed to work on it anyway - the better his use was in the bow, the better his hunting would be. They were, in his mind, complimentary skills. And he may have been focusing a little too much, recently, on his hunting.. and not enough on his short-bow. But that could be remedied easily enough. All he needed to do, was have a few private sessions in the woodland, carve up a bit of a target and have a go. Which was precisely why he'd taken time out of his usual spree of hunting on some unknown woodland creature, to take up residence in a small clearing not too far from the North Kabrin Road, and settle. He could still see the small crowds, occasional groups of travelers accompanied by survival guides or other hunters, or even trading wagons drawn by draft horses. He wasn't here to spy on them though. That'd be another time. The kopis, slung in his pocket, was soon pulled out and slammed into a tree. Then removed, and slammed into a different one - that one was in more of the sunlight than the previous. A small, rather crude and wobbly circle was carved into place. And then a second, larger one around that, which came out more as an oblong. No matter - it didn't have to be perfect, as long as it did the job. He needed something to aim at, after all. Something specific. A few steps back, so that he could observe his work. Quite large, but it would do. The kopis was resheathed in his pocket, and instead, he drew the short-bow from over his shoulder and an arrow from the leather quiver that had rested beside it. He felt confident. Just a few strikes, to make sure that all was going well in his archery work, and then he could go out and begin his hunting. Nothing difficult, taxing.. nothing really complicated. Just aim, fire, done. He could do that. That's what he thought, as he drew up the bow and notched the arrow to the drawstring, using his index and middle finger to hold the arrow in place.. then removing the fingers to avoid having them accidentally pulled off his hand. Just his index finger for the arrow to rest on, gently. Deep breaths, calming. Both eyes open, glaring at the little target a few footsteps away. Calm.. controlled.. and, release. The arrow didn't strike the target - it struck quite a bit below it, and not with enough strength. Seemed that he'd just lost a bit too much concentration there, trying to relax and get the aim right.. no problem. No worries, he could just try again. He could remember now, from the previous times that trouble like this had occurred - getting angry wasn't the solution.