SHWOOSH! A rusty arrow cut straight through the air and with the hollow sound of cracking wood lodged itself firmly into the dark knot that served as the bulls eye of a wooden crate target forty foot in front of us. Soundlessly the string of the elven bow was pulled back again, mechanically, routinely, practiced. Six or seven seconds of concentrated and silent aiming passed, then another shwoosh and another arrow pierced the crate not half an inch away from the other. "Something is bothering you," the skilled archer broke the quiet rhythm just as I had pulled an arrow from my own quiver and carefully positioned it. "You're not usually this quiet." I pulled back the black string of my bow and released to see my arrow strike at least an inch above his. "I have a lot on my mind," I admitted without removing my eyes from our mutual target. Already after a week in the sewers, I barely took notice of the rotten stench anymore. It also did help that no one else down here seemed to notice anything at all either. It was like a massive, stinky mammoth in the middle of the cistern and every one of it inhabitants had an unspoken agreement not to mention it to one another at any cost. The beds were placed in a perfect circle around the pool in the middle, each with a chest and an end table attachment. I hadn't yet stored any of my things in there, lest they'd be gone when I woke up. But even though I had yet to learn to trust the rest of the pack, my kin-brother's proposal was still being weighed out in my head. The stiff string of his bow creaked like it was out of tune when Niruin again tugged it backwards with three fingers. It let out a sharp clanking sound when he let it go, sending off the arrow straight towards the target to dig itself in under the tip of that one my arrows already stuck there, forcing it out of the crate side. My arrow landed on the ground with a pling that echoed off the wet walls of the Cistern's practice room.
- Fin Larksong
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