Closed Precision Versus Accuracy (Nayato)

[Letixia Raigner]

Spring 18th, 514 Leti was exhausted as she finished saddling up Igor. At this point she was too tired to even be nervous around the rather calm horse. She checked her reins, her stirrups, and sat up straight, tightening her core to maintain her posture. She lightly tapped Igor in the sides with her boots, and set him forward and out of the barn. As she led the horse at an amble across the pasture, she thought back over her day. She'd spent the entire morning in intense combat training. Ser Ranqor had said that she needed to learn to fight when absolutely worn out and drained. He gave her a half bell to rest and eat, then continued the training, only this time forcing her to fight even harder than she had previously. "A knight will not always be fighting under ideal conditions. Whenever you're at your weakest, that is when things go from bad to worst." That thought of his is what brought on this intense training, and there wasn't a muscle in her body that didn't hurt. After they finished, he told her to take a break, then go work on whatever aspects of her training were the weakest. So she grabbed her bow and quiver, along with her sword and shield, and made her way to grab a horse. She left the pasture, guiding the gentle grey horse through the streets of the city, until she left out the gates. Thankfully, being Spring, Syna would still smile in the sky for a while longer. She took him up the road north, then broke off the trail as she approached the woods near the hot springs. It was a bit trickier for her to select a pathway that she thought would be safer for Igor to take, but he didn't seem displeased at her choice. Like usual, he plodded along faithfully, happy to serve. She found the clearing she'd used in the past to practice her bow training. Hopping off of Igor, she led him by the reins to a small tree where she tied him off at the horn on the saddle. This way, he wouldn't wander off, but if something spooked him, he could break free and not hurt himself in the struggle. She kept her shield on her back, and her quiver strapped to her right leg, her sword dangling against her left. Finding the tree that she was used to using, she inspected her handiwork. She always aimed for the same knot in the wood, roughly where the heart would be on a person of the same height as her. Her hand placing against the wood, she sighed, knowing she had yet to actually hit the knot. She had two clusters of holes in the wood, one that was an armlength from the knot to the upper right of the tree. The other was a couple of hands below the knot. While she kept missing her shots, they were at least consistent. She knew there must be something wrong in what she was doing, but just didn't know what. She said a light prayer to Yahal, to help her benefit from her training, then walked to the spot she normally stood. She gripped her bow, and grabbed an arrow from the quiver. She set the shaft atop her gripped fingers, and nocked it. Slipping her three pull fingers in position, she took in a deep breath. She raised her bow arm, remembering to not lock the elbow. Her eyes narrows on the knot, remembering to aim small. The bow creaked a bit as her back muscles tightened, forcing her arm to pull the string back. When her hand reached her jaw, she released her breath with the arrow, and watched it fly. Straight into the upper cluster of holes. "Petch."