79th of Summer, 514 AV
It was time to go. Armed with a simple shortbow, procured at the goading of one of many sisters, and the arrows necessary to using the weapon well nested in their quiver, Citlali was very uncomfortable. There were merits to any weapon, she knew this, but a bow? Her preferred range was within arm's length. If absolutely necessary, she would rip a piece of bark from a tree, or the end of a branch, and use something like that as a weapon.
She'd never considered the charm of a bow and the promise of what skill with one could yield, if she found it in herself to increase skill with it.
The male who had sold her the bow, the unfortunate hunter, had remarked on the brilliance of a ranged weapon as small and easily manoeuvred as the shortbow. Where a longbow promised greater power with the length of string, the shortbow promised to not interfere with travel, and that was exactly what Citlali wanted it for.
So, she paid him his gold and left*-30 grm for bow, -1 grm for 20 arrows.
And now, here she was, and she'd finally felt trepidation. She thanked a queen of luck for the fact none were there to see her off. The other hunters had likely left a bell earlier, after all, when she'd gone off to pick up such a simple bow.
The jungle was oddly quiet as Citlali wove through it, her body low to the ground. She was going to experiment with archery as she hunted, test it by trial through error, and decide whether or not it was something she could bear to use continually. It was slung across her body at the moment, strung and ready to be notched. She took care not to jostle it too much as her fingers traced different patterns in the packed mud, testing the malleable state of the mud to determine whether or not she could assume tracks were fresh.
The jungle was oddly quiet, and Citlali shared the silence.
It was time to go. Armed with a simple shortbow, procured at the goading of one of many sisters, and the arrows necessary to using the weapon well nested in their quiver, Citlali was very uncomfortable. There were merits to any weapon, she knew this, but a bow? Her preferred range was within arm's length. If absolutely necessary, she would rip a piece of bark from a tree, or the end of a branch, and use something like that as a weapon.
She'd never considered the charm of a bow and the promise of what skill with one could yield, if she found it in herself to increase skill with it.
The male who had sold her the bow, the unfortunate hunter, had remarked on the brilliance of a ranged weapon as small and easily manoeuvred as the shortbow. Where a longbow promised greater power with the length of string, the shortbow promised to not interfere with travel, and that was exactly what Citlali wanted it for.
So, she paid him his gold and left*-30 grm for bow, -1 grm for 20 arrows.
And now, here she was, and she'd finally felt trepidation. She thanked a queen of luck for the fact none were there to see her off. The other hunters had likely left a bell earlier, after all, when she'd gone off to pick up such a simple bow.
---
The jungle was oddly quiet as Citlali wove through it, her body low to the ground. She was going to experiment with archery as she hunted, test it by trial through error, and decide whether or not it was something she could bear to use continually. It was slung across her body at the moment, strung and ready to be notched. She took care not to jostle it too much as her fingers traced different patterns in the packed mud, testing the malleable state of the mud to determine whether or not she could assume tracks were fresh.
The jungle was oddly quiet, and Citlali shared the silence.
