Max seemed to have patience, something that she was not used to. He flashed his teeth again in a grin, but she somehow knew that it was not intended to be spiteful, so took no offence and followed his motions. Sparrow wondered off-handedly exactly how she was going to do this. It was not that she was not physically capable—shooting sticks with a pointed end called for barely any labor to complete. She was concerned about what she will shoot, if she was ever able to complete training. The girl disliked the idea of killing others, except for Marcel—he was excusable, for he deserved no mercy—especially by her hands. But, she decided that she’ll cross that river when she would approach it; besides, she will probably never see battle, knowing that others will view her as more of a weakness than strength at the current moment.
Sparrow listened intently to the his words, quickly adjusting her grip to hold on the wooden part of the object, not wanting to feel as if she was doing wrong anymore. She was slightly confused when he mentioned that mentally the weapon should be a part of her, but, did not ponder long on the thought, knowing that perhaps its meaning will come later on in training. She slightly smiled at the white male when he spoke of simplicity, glad to be starting from the basics.
After a couple of moments they came to a stop, and the fawn glanced around the woods curiously. Almost immediately she noticed the tree, splashed with color that was unlike its bark. Distracted by the target, she did not see Max remove his bow until he spoke again, and watched the pose he made. It was made perfectly, and Sparrow then saw how the bow was supposed to launch the arrows, as well as how his arm position played its part in the scheme of things.
Giving a tiny nod, she kept one of the arrows she brought with her, leaving the others by her feet. She notched the arrow with some difficultly, but after a second of fumbling, was able to keep its place, though it was crooked. Sparrow then raised the weapon at chest-height, similar to what Max had done, and tried to mimic his stance. It was not the best, to say at the least; the arm holding the bow was not stretched to their fullest, bending a little at the elbow; the string was not even taunt, only pulled to where it was barely bent, Sparrow fearing that she may somehow break it by pulling back too much. She thought she did good, making no adjustments, and glanced at Max to see if he approved.
Word Count → 454
I don't know anything about archery. ; - ; Just pretend her pose is horrible in case I didn't describe it being wrong the right way. I kinda use this picture as reference for a proper pose.
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