He'd have had to, with messed up bones, but- well, yeah, that was the point, wasn't it? He's got limited capabilities, so he works with what he's got. This is a mean planet, as far as Daryl can tell, though he doesn't know if it was better before the war. It's hard enough on Earth to be born all twisted, and that's if you got money. He doesn't know how shit works here, but from the thin tenor of bitterness in Miles' tone, Daryl can guess it wasn't great.

So he changes the subject. Daryl pulls the smaller twigs and spruce off the branch he pulled down, until it's mostly naked wood. "Here," he says, handing the stick down to Miles. "Make me an arrow." First lesson for the kid who thinks he's so clever.