Word count: 416
It was a beautiful autumn afternoon. The leaves were just beginning to turn colors, and a brisk breeze blew, carrying the briny scent of the sea. In the cleared area north of the stables that was the training field, a massive white figure held what looked, in his hands, almost like a children's bow. He was practicing his aim by shooting at the wooden practice dummies, missing more than he hit, as evidenced by the arrows which sprouted up like feathered weeds everywhere except for the dummies. He drew his last arrow and fired, finally hitting one of the dummies; unfortunately, it wasn't the dummy at which he had aimed. The dog let out a snarl of frustration and threw his bow to the ground before going to retrieve his arrows.
Jimson returned to where he'd been standing for his target practice and flopped down onto the beaten dirt next to his bow, removing his quiver and replacing the arrows inside before tossing it to the ground, as well. He let out a defeated sigh as he began absentmindedly tracing figures in the earth with one claw. He needed a bigger bow, but didn't know how to make one, or even what kind of wood to use. He knew that you had to use a special kind of wood, just any wood wouldn't do, but he couldn't remember what it was. The bow he used now was one of the few that hadn't been broken during the tornadoes, and it had not been made for him; he was big even by his breed standards. The Pyrenees had some idea that he might have a little bit better aim if he had a suitable bow, but he didn't fool himself into thinking that the size of his bow was the only problem. He just wasn't very good. He'd been at this all damn morning and half the afternoon, and had actually hit the dummy he was aiming for maybe three times. He'd gotten lucky enough in his travels northward to have managed to kill enough food that he didn't starve to death. Of course, he was a pretty decent fisher, too, and that helped.
Well, he was done fooling with this stupid thing for today. Might as well do something he was actually good at; maybe his mood would improve. He pushed himself up and retrieved his staff from where he'd rested it against a nearby tree, and began practicing his form on one of the dummies.
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