[ William works his gaze over Byerly. At the other man's invitation, he imagines the blood.
What he wants to do—
William tips his head back. Not a flutter of movement above. He squares his shoulders, sets his feet. His lips press together as he nocks an arrow. He raises the bow, then lowers it to adjust his grip. Raising it again, he takes aim at the sky.
The arrow flies high and far, flashing briefly over the trees before falling out of sight.
William looks to Byerly, one eyebrow raised expectantly. ] Go get it.
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What he wants to do—
William tips his head back. Not a flutter of movement above. He squares his shoulders, sets his feet. His lips press together as he nocks an arrow. He raises the bow, then lowers it to adjust his grip. Raising it again, he takes aim at the sky.
The arrow flies high and far, flashing briefly over the trees before falling out of sight.
William looks to Byerly, one eyebrow raised expectantly. ] Go get it.