Wind Arrow

Chapter 13: Training

Chapter 13: Training

<<Xeleria's POV>> 

“Feel the arrow as if it were a part of your hands.” Zylle instructs as I aim its pointed edge at the small little circle he marked on the trunk of the tree. Its distance was almost impossible for me to hit that I can’t even clearly see it with my poor eyesight.

I take my thousandth deep breath before shooting for we’ve been just doing this initial step over and over again. It annoys me!

I’m about to release the lethal weapon until—

“Stop. Do it again.”

See what I mean? I’ve been doing this for the millionth time now and he’s been stopping me for the billionth time now. I haven’t even had a chance to shoot once!

With composure and clenching of my teeth, I relax my body as I balance with my other lucky foot stepped forward and thinking of the arrow as part of me. Along with the complete focus of my eyes, I aim the bow to the target with the painful treacherous internal bleeding fingers of my hand.

“Do it again.” He once again, rages me and pushes me out of my freaking long patience!

I disarm myself from the weapon and point a finger on his chest. I take a deep breath full of sarcasm with all the annoyance I kept in. “Why do you keep stopping me for the trillionth time already?! Do you wanna die huh?!” I didn’t expect those words come out of my mouth but nonetheless, I’m too exhausted.

“’Coz you won’t hit the target and the arrow would be wasted.” His stance was tall that I can’t outmatch him.

That’s all?! I could buy zillions of arrows you know! Argh! “Then why do you need to freaking make me learn how to use a bow and those arrows when there’s an easier weapon like a gun! I had a license recently for I turned eighteen and I know how to fire!”

He smirks with the usual intimidating aura he gives off almost as if he’s so confident with himself every single millisecond.

“What’s with that smile?” I annoyingly ask to keep up with our mental fight.

He takes a black familiar weapon from his pocket which I wanted for its durability. It was a Glock 42.380 pistol that fits like a small toy with the tight relaxed grip of his hands as he aims the lined tin cans even farther than the trunk of the tree I was shooting awhile ago which I couldn’t almost see. What more if it was that far. “I’ll let you forget about the arrows if you shoot more than me. You have a chance to shoot ten times consecutively.”

Finally! I get a glimpse of hope as he hands me the gun. I’m quite confident with my shooting skills for my mom trained me how to shoot when I was younger before I even got a license. “Game.”

I take a tight grip on it as my finger dwells on its trigger and aim it at the first target within the range. Finally, I pull the trigger which produces the lovely sound of ten consecutive gunshots as it escapes from the barrel. The first shot was tight that made my hand pull backwards, a warning before I take the other shots. I focus more than ever as the rest are fired. “Game over.” My thrilled system excitedly checks upon how many cans I’ve got.

“I got five.” It was quite a great amount already depending on the distance that I aimed from.

I lined the cans again for his turn. He seems still confident which confuses me even more with my high self esteem.

He takes a rather weird grip of the gun as he suddenly presses the trigger without having a sign that he’s ready to shoot. The consecutive sound of gunshots and tin cans falling can be heard with the fast speed he used. He’s even faster than me.