Private Tales The Beating of Skin Drums

[Urosh]

Wolves would not attack in broad daylight, but that did not mean they should linger in the woods. Urosh found a game trail which led them toward the forested foothills of the Spine. He walked with a purpose, strides swift and surefooted, but slowed when they came to a clearing until he halted.

Jade eyes swung to her, studying the way she held the bow, as if it were a snake that might bite her. She also walked with a limp. That could not be helped. They would need to press on eventually. Staying at the camp would prove more dangerous than hobbled feet.

"You have never shot a bow?" he asked, incredulous. He knew that nobles of the humans led different lives, but to never learn the bow seemed so foreign when it was a necessity in the life of the tribes.

Stabbing his javelins down into a patch of soft earth and leaning his own bow against them, he gestured for her to approach.

"I will show you."

A solitary oak tree stood in the clearing, trunk wizened and vast. He pointed to it.

"Fit arrow to string and shoot that tree."

It could not be more than thirty yards away. And it was enormous. He watched, crossing his arms.

Rori

 

[Rori]

Rori had to hurry along to keep up with his strides and stumbled to a halt just short of colliding with him, the edge of her bow thumping softly against his back before she caught herself. Her frown deepened at the incredulity in his tone.. it wasn’t her fault she’d been raised to embroider and play music, not hunt.

“Absolutely not,” she answered, just as incredulous. The way he gestured her forward made her want to roll her eyes, but she obeyed with a quiet groan, trudging toward the spot he’d chosen.

The oak loomed ahead like a silent judge. She eyed it warily, then looked down at the bow in her hands. How hard could it be?

As it turned out, very.

The arrow slipped twice before she managed to fumble it onto the string, her fingers clumsy and uncertain. She drew it back too little, then too much, the bow creaking in protest. When she finally let go, the string twanged, and the arrow flopped a pitiful few feet before hitting the dirt.

“There.” She dropped the bow to her side, deadpan. “I shot it.”

 

[Urosh]

“That is not…” Urosh massaged his forehead with a knuckle. Everything about that had been wrong, from how she stood and held the bow to how she fitted the arrow and released. Urosh found it almost humorously painful to watch.

“I will show you.”

Stalking forward, he snatched up the arrow which had fallen pathetically short of its mark, then circled her as he talked. His words terse, but his movements full of action.

“You stand like this,” he slapped his thighs and showed her how he stood perpendicular to the target, knees slightly bent. “You fit the arrow, you raise and pull, then you let go.” He pantomimed the action, showing how a smooth motion and release. “One motion.”

Bah. Better just to show her, he came up to her and grabbed her by either arm.

“Stand here,” he moved her so that he was behind her, poking at her legs with the arrow to get her to assume the correct stance, then he wrapped a hand around her much smaller hand, which in turn gripped the bow.

“Strong grip,” he said behind her, frustrated slightly by the difference in height as he loomed. He put the arrow in her other hand and nudged it toward the bow. “Fit it, now pull.”

Urosh nudged at her elbow, trying to get it to the correct angle. He squinted and squatted bringing his head along side hers and so he could see her aim, cheek pressed just behind her ear.

“Now release.”

Rori

 

[Rori]

Rori’s shoulders tensed the moment he began circling her, every movement of his like a predator, assessing her. She could almost feel his patience thinning, and that thought alone was enough to make her spine straighten in stubborn defiance.

Still, she watched his demonstration carefully, mimicking the stance he showed her, though she huffed quietly as he corrected her posture like she was some unruly child. “I am standing,” she muttered under her breath just before she let out an indignant squeak in surprise when he used the arrow to nudge her legs apart.

And then he enveloped her.

His frame near swallowed her whole, a wall of warmth and solid muscle pressing close as his hands adjusted her grip. Her breath hitched as she realised how small she felt in his hold, how absurd it had been to think she might’ve ever outrun him in the forest. Foolish, idiot girl.

She exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened when he leaned so close. The bow creaked softly in her grasp as she obeyed his instructions, eyes fixed on the rough trunk ahead.

Now release...

She aimed the bow and whispered a quiet 'sorry tree' under her breath as she nocked the arrow, drew back, and released in one motion, as he instructed. It buried itself in the bark with a satisfying thunk, and Rori beamed.

“Shit!"