The walk to the range was relatively short and uneventful, compared with the earlier fight with the cell phone. The amiable weather lent to a few clustering crowds out and aimed toward parks, and most were wearing tank and shorts like himself. While he approached university grounds, several students sat out on wrought iron patio tables, while others sat against buildings or beneath the shade of trees for their studies. Idly he wondered if he might spot Orah along the way, but the familiar brunette wasn’t among their number. He didn’t mind; meeting her there might’ve been considered rude or invasive.
Upon reaching the range, he noted a few familiar faces among the crowds - hunters he’d encountered while he still lived beyond the forest, and they recognized him in kind with quick greetings. The number of people didn’t pose much of a problem given the vastness of the range itself - he likely wouldn’t run into the few hunters he knew for the remainder of his time there. Instead he didn’t opt for any conversation; instead he hauled his gear toward one of the nearby posts and leaned beneath the tree while he waited for Orah to arrive.
Hopefully she won’t mind learning with a left-handed bow - unless she already acquired one of her own, she’ll be hard pressed to obtain one from the office for this range. I should’ve considered that beforehand. It’ll do for learning some of the basics, at least, and she can decide if left-handed shooting feels comfortable enough to continue. Some are left eye dominant, regardless.
Shale lowered himself to a cross-legged position, one hand on each bare knee, while he awaited the arrival of his companion. The time hadn’t quite reached ten yet, so the cool morning still held dominion over the forecasted hotter afternoon. And with the sun shining in full force, he hoped she dressed appropriately for physical activity.
Choosing what to wear for a first archery lesson has been something of an exercise in thought. Something she could move in was probably appropriate, something that didn’t hamper her arms’ ranges of motion, and that took into account they might be outside in the warmth… or coolness, as Spring so often swung between both temperatures… In the end, she settled on a pair of high-waisted, blue jean shorts that left much of her tanned legs bare below the lace hems and a flower-printed camisole that reached below her hips. Brown boots half laced, their tops turned down, paired with a maroon hoodie to stave off any chill. She’d left off jewelry, save for a pair of earrings, in the worry bracelets or necklaces might interfere with her motions, or tangle in something.
It was a simple outfit… it would work well enough for this. There was no one to impress with what she wore, and she was fairly certain Shale could care less what she had on. What mattered was how much the clothing got in way, really.
Orah arrived at the range only a few minutes before the time the hunter had given her, the ever-present messenger bag cutting its strap across her chest and her hoodie half zipped. It was still chill enough to need the extra layer and it raised goosebumps down her bare thighs, but hopefully some work would raise her temperature enough even those would fade.
“Shale!” She called as she lifted a hand in greeting, spotting the other man under a tree outside. There were other people, but no one she knew. She wasn’t sure if she was happy for that or not… it wasn’t a good thing, she figured, to actively avoid people, but at the same time… she supposed she could explain it as not wanting witnesses for what would surely be an expected failure and subsequent learning experience as she tried this for the first time.
“Have you been waiting long?” The young woman said as she came to stand by his knee, her thick braid sliding over her shoulder as she bent to offer him a hand up.
Shale only recently closed his eyes to better enjoy the temperature and light breeze when Orah’s voice wrested his attention. Eyes opened, he glanced to her, happy to see that she dressed somewhat appropriately in shorts and a sleeveless shirt to better accommodate range of motion. The jacket, at least, could come off once physical activity and body heat demanded it.
His own garb was of similar composition - a loosely fit red tanktop paired with ‘ventilated’ jeans sporting a fair amount of holes down the front. He expected some forays into the woods to pick out the arrows that flew wide. Everyone shoots poorly at first. I wonder if you’ll judge yourself for that, Orah. Or will you follow me into the woods without a second thought about it?
“It hasn’t been long - I just sat down a few minutes ago.” He took the hand offered and stood, letting go afterward. “I’m guessing the office didn’t give you any trouble when you came in? If you explain that you’re meeting up with someone, they usually let people through.” Orah had no gear of her own, so they must’ve assumed she wasn’t there to shoot. Perhaps it was skirting the rules to allow Orah to shoot for free today, but as a fledgling to the hobby, it seemed unfair to expect her to pay for a season pass when she hadn’t determined if she liked to shoot yet. However, a count of days passed since she first agreed to try archery, which left time for her to start on her own. She might’ve developed a taste for it without his knowledge.
He gestured toward the pair of cases sitting side by side in the grass, each hard plastic and shaped in a familiar half moon. “I brought you some equipment to use. The farthest one is a left-handed bow set to your draw length, and some arrows I cut to accommodate the draw. I wasn’t certain if you’d prefer shooting with a release or more naturally, so I cut for both. I would’ve given you a right-handed bow, but short of walking back home and asking for it, mine’s out of my hands. Apologies for that.” It had been Slate’s once, and he wondered if that knowledge might compel him to avoid lending it to her. He doubted it mattered now.
“There’s a release, too, which should fit your wrist.” She looked pretty slender. Would she pull well with a draw weight set around twenty-five pounds? “I brought tools for adjusting the sight and weight - or resistance - of the bow. Don’t worry about trying to pull a lot, either. I know a few of the people here who use draw weight to compare toughness. Usually they’ll damage their muscles or tire themselves too quickly and only shoot a round; it isn’t worth the effort to push your body too far. It also doesn’t matter much to the target if you hit it with a draw weight of forty or sixty-five - and this isn’t hunting so if you hit, you hit.”
Shale took up his own case and gave a nod to the remaining one, expecting Orah to carry her equipment. He started away from the shooters nearest them, heading toward a small path between the trees. “This range is usually pretty crowded in the front and the center strip. We’re going to head to one of the side strips, toward the back, where you don’t normally find any activity. There’s less pressure in learning if someone else isn’t waiting for you to finish shooting all your arrows and call it clear.” Even on Saturdays, the range didn’t fill up entirely; the only times he found it brimming with people were during tournaments sponsored by the ownership.
The walk would span a solid ten minutes through the small wooded path, so Shale elected for a more conversational interaction. “Are you nervous or excited?”
Orah smiled as she wrapped her hand firmly around his larger one, surprised and not surprised by the calluses and muscle specific to his hobby or profession, as it were. And warmth as well. She leaned back to counterbalance his weight as she helped him up and released his hand when he let go.
“No, I didn’t have any trouble. I told them I was meeting you here, they recognized your name and let me through.” She said as she crouched to look at the equipment he had brought, flipping the catches to open it and reveal the bow. It warmed her in a strange, bubbly sort of way that he’d done so much to prepare everything for her, covering many different eventualities. “Thank you for going to so much effort for me, Shale… That was really kind of you. I could have… rented equipment, or something. I don’t know if it’ll matter which handed bow I use… I don’t think it’ll hurt anything to start out with a left-handed one.”
Her fingers ran over the release he mentioned and she flexed her hand, testing her wrist. Her lips quirked, considering draw weight.
“The target might argue it would prefer a lighter draw weight.” She joked as she closed the top, clicking the catches shut. When he turned to go, she hurriedly grabbed up the case and trotted to catch up, falling into step beside him. “A side strip is a good idea. It would be nice not to be rushed through anything.”
The path was well worn and maintained. The walk between the trees was pleasant, even with a decently heavy case on her arm. The light came down green through the leaves and the further they got from the more populated areas, the quieter it became. It echoed familiarly in her mind, though in only a very small way. It reminded her of walks in the forest, early on, when work was done and she needed some solitude and time to herself. The woods always felt peaceful to her, a smaller version of the green peace she found on Ida. Always, it seemed, being surrounded by plant life eased her soul.
Orah laughed at Shale’s question and gave him a bright smile, a bounce coming into her step.
“I’m excited.” She said as she shifted her grip on her case. “Not nervous at all. Nothing to be nervous about! I’m probably going to do miserably at first, but I’m just starting out. I’ll get better. Were you nervous when you started?”
Shale only shrugged at her thankfulness. “I always found it easier to learn from someone who was willing to set up the equipment beforehand; it gave me the opportunity to focus on shooting first, and setting up as an auxiliary point until I felt comfortable enough with it.” If Orah decided she needed to know how to adjust draw length and weight immediately, he would honor that choice, provided it was tempered with his own feedback.
“Using a left-handed bow isn’t troublesome if you’re left-eye dominant. The techniques don’t change between hands.” He considered the old right-handed bow for a moment, and whether he could reacquire it to ease the burden of learning a new skill. Surely it would feel more familiar to shoot right-handed, but could he return without causing trouble? Shale was skeptical; people of his home were far more aware than the typical Destiny City denizen that buried mind in phone. And how long had it been since he crept through the woods? His skills were undoubtedly slipping.
Shale cocked an eyebrow at her joke, but thought nothing more of it in favor of more easily understood conversation. Her excitement about it brought some ease, though he didn’t often show it in his reserved mannerisms. “‘Results’ don’t come from the target until you’re comfortable with shooting posture. Besides, that sight was adjusted to my preferences. The chances of you hitting the target at all are pretty low.” I wonder if she’ll focus on lack of results like Slate did. It’s a possibility - this is a very results-driven society.
“I was nervous,” he admitted while he dropped to a crouch. The case opened, revealing a variety of arrows equipped with broadheads alongside the bow that sat snug in the case. He plucked each arrow out individually and unscrewed the heads, pressing them into their intended indentation before he screwed on blunted ends from a small hard plastic case. “But my circumstances were different. Around the age of twelve, we had to essentially determine our trade. It was important you perform well, because disappointment meant that you had to reassign yourself to something ‘lower’. Hunters do fairly decently.”
With arrows assembled, he stood and tucked the shafts into a handmade leather quiver hanging off his belt. He offered one of similar, but markedly more primitive construction toward Orah. “They don’t have any canisters for your arrows out here, so you might as well use this. it just clips onto your belt. When you’re done, give me your wrist - I’ll show you how to put on the release.”
”I don’t know what-eye-dominant I am, but it doesn’t hurt anything to give a try.” Orah said as she trailed along after him to the range he’d selected. When he crouched, she paused to look around and breath deeply, enjoying the near privacy and just being outside. Sure, you could argue she was outside a lot, but not like this… usually outside came powered, or on the way to another place. This was a rare treat she decided in that moment she was going to enjoy as much as she could. Forget everything for a little while and do something different. It would do her good.
Noticing he was doing something to his arrows, Orah sank down to her knees beside Shale and set her case down. He was removing the sharp points and exchanging them for blunt ones, which probably made sense. With target practice that was probably all you really needed, and using the heads could possibly lose one in the target, which would be a bad idea. Flipping open the catches and opening the case again, she drew out an arrow to look over, running her fingers down the smooth shaft to the fletching. It was stiff, but still flexible, under her touch. Holding the arrow, thinking about what she was going to do… it really was exciting. She was suddenly incredibly glad she’d met this man, for great many reasons, only one of which was the good fortune of him deciding he’d like to teach her.
Orah accepted the… quiver, was it?, from Shale and turned it over in her hands, studying where the arrows were meant to go. They never really showed it in depth in the movies… it was just arrows sticking out of a tube… sometimes they stood up on their own and sometimes they flopped around inside. A glance at his hip gave her something of a clue and she began to carefully load arrows into it.
“I didn’t wear a belt… I probably should have. I can wear one next time, though, and maybe just set these by my feet while I’m shooting.” Silly mistake, but really, she’d had no way of knowing she’d need something to hold her quiver. Again, getting fouled up by movie tropes… quivers were always shown slung across the back, though honestly, she hadn’t even considered the quiver when thinking about Archery. It had just been the bow and the arrows in her mind.
When she rose, she brought the release with her and held it out to him, curious about how it functioned. “Did I already ask what benefits there were to a release? Is it just that it keeps your fingers from getting tired or.. raw or something like that?”
Orah said nothing concerning his comments about nervousness, leading him to question if he should’ve answered her in the first place. Maybe the information held no value. He couldn’t be certain.
“I used to know how to pick out dominance but I can’t remember it anymore. I assume you’ll be fine to learn the basics like this.” Shale fastened the release to her wrist with one velcro strap sliding in the plastic, then wrapping around to meet the coarse rug of hooks that held it in place. It fit snugly, even though he stretched the fabric to its smallest limit to prevent much movement. Afterward he pressed the metal portion to Orah’s palm, holding both her hand and the release itself steady to measure length. It seemed to fit; she shouldn’t have difficulty fitting a finger behind the trigger in the way that Slate did when first starting.
While her release was a simple black, Shale’s was a larger type that sported camouflage patterns and olive-colored velcro. “You don’t need to wear a belt for a quiver - it hooks over the top of your pants or through belt loops just fine. Belts keep the metal from teething into your skin. That only becomes a problem when you’re hunting for hours and constantly moving around. As for the release, its use is in producing a more accurate shot. The trigger is highly sensitive, so anything more than a touch will set it off and release the arrow. It hooks to a small loop in the middle of the bowstring, and produces a lot less vibration than hand releasing. It will, however, wear callouses into your finger,” he finished, brandishing his index.
“For your shot, you will want to stand with your feet at shoulder-width distance. Make sure your body is perpendicular to the target and facing the direction of the dominant hand. Since I have a left-handed bow, I face to the left.” As he explained, Shale fell into position easily with his back facing her. “The bow sits loosely in your other hand while you pull back for a shot. When you draw the bow to its maximum length…” Slowly he reeled the string back to illustrate the cam movements. “The string should run across your face with your nose just touching it. You should still have your finger behind the release trigger to prevent it from accidentally firing. At this time you’ll be looking through your peephole to line up with your sight, and with the target in the center, you pull the trigger. There’s no need to draw your arm back or go through any great movements - it can disrupt your shot.” When he was certain Orah examined his posture, he let the arrow fly. It struck the target surely, well into the inner red range, to the right of the yellow bull’s eye.
“It’s easiest to correct for posture while touching someone,” he added while he lowered his bow. “Is that going to be a problem?”
She watched as he attached the release to her hand, fighting to ignore the sensation of his calloused fingers. Her own curved when he had it secure, feeling out the lay of it and the button that would trigger the release. It felt weird in her hand, but she figured that wasn’t unexpected, since she’d never worn one before.
“Oh…” She murmured when he let go of her hand and explained about the quiver. A curious bit of inspection produced the hooks and she considered them before she glanced down at the camisole that fell around her hips. She was going to have to pull it up to reach the waistband of her shorts… an uncomfortable prospect. It always left her feeling… exposed when she didn’t have something hanging loose around her hips. Like people could see the curve of her hips and butt… Orah pressed her lips together as she tugged her shirt up and determinedly clipped the quiver onto her shorts. ******** it. She had to get used to it someday and if it had to be around someone, Shale and his lack of outward interest was probably ideal.
Orah watched with eager attention as her teacher explained how to stand and how to hold the bow. This was the meat of what she was learning and thus the heart of what she wanted to know… but it didn’t detract any worth from it that she had to admit how nice his bare arms looked when he pulled his bow to full draw.
Twang. Her eyes flicked to watch the arrow fly to the target. His aim was quite good and it just got her even more excited to try it for herself… right up until he told her he was going to be touching her. Orah swallowed and then straightened her shoulders. It was fine. It wasn’t like it meant anything, it was purely instructional. She’d touched him plenty of times already, too.
“No! Not a problem at all.” She said. Changing positions with him gave her a moment of recovery and she settled into the stance he had shown her, mimicking it as best she could. Fitting the release to the string was a little trickier. Worse, even, when she managed it and then remembered she needed an arrow. Coloring, she unclipped the release and drew two lengths from the quiver, offering them to him to show which had been cut for the release.
“So, um…” Orah stumbled as she set to putting the arrow on the bow. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed the slip up. “What would you have done, if you hadn’t made it as a hunter? That’s a lot of pressure, that young.”
Orah looked like she got the quiver set decently, though it would’ve been better if she pulled it further forward. Reaching across her body so far wasn’t much of an issue on the first day, however.
Watching her attach release first brought him back to his first attempts at archery, and the subsequent series of failings he endured. Even if he hadn’t smiled about it, the mirth was evident in his eyes. For all its years in the service of mankind, archery lacked a certain natural feel to it for her as well. Kindred spirits, he figured, at least in that respect.
Shale took both arrows and handed her the shorter of the pair. Its sister went back into the pocket housing the longer arrows. “When you’re shooting with a release, the arrow isn’t pulled back as far. When you attach this one, you’ll want the odd-colored feather to be pointing up. It’s not completely necessary, but it helps to identify which direction the nock points. That will attach back here, just above the gold ring. Once you have it clipped and the arrow shaft is on the riser, you can attach your release and pull back.” He gave her space to try it herself. It wasn’t a difficult prospect, but he wasn’t certain she ever watched archers for their exact technique. Much like Rhys’ explanation with framing and cuts on movies, he suspected she didn’t even think to make a memory of it.
And that was fine - neither of them were under a deadline.
“But before you do that…” Spotting her posture, Shale ducked behind her and framed her hips with his hands, twisting her position slightly to give her a full angle toward the target. “Archery involves pulling across your body, and that’s easier to do at a right angle like this. Your body was a little torqued, which puts a lot of pressure on the spine.” Once he was certain her spinal column remained straight, he let go and stepped back.
Hands slipped into back pockets while he watched her first attempts at pulling back the draw weight. “I still haven’t figured out what I would’ve done if I failed the test as a hunter. I didn’t have much knack for carpentry. Beyond that, I expect, would be farming.” Or peddling someone else’s wares.
Orah made a mental note of which arrow he gave her and which feather should go on the outside when she set it to the string. Neither should be hard to remember... But they were enough to distract her as Shale slide up behind her and grabbed hold of her hips.
Her face turned red and the sensation called up older memories of times Alois had done the same, but that had been for a far different activity. Memories that had no place here. She chided herself for it as he merely straightened her hips out to give her a better stance. She'd told him it was okay, there was no call for letting it fluster her.
Orah fumbled to get the arrow onto the bow, hesitating a moment over which side it needed to sit on. Needing to rest of a riser, which she assumed was the little ledge above her hand, gave her a clue. Twisting the arrow till the feathers sat proper, she fitted the notch to the string and felt rather accomplished for it. Okay. Not so bad. I can do this. At least... Until she got the release attached and tried to pull back. At that point things got loose and between lifting the bow into position and drawing back the string, the arrow slid off the riser and Orah made a small sound of protest as she eased the string down again.
Fumbling in an embarrassing fashion, she tipped the bow around and wiggled it to get the arrow to fall back onto the riser. The whole little dance was accomplished with her lower lip between her teeth and she sighed as she straightened up again.
"That's harder than it looks." She said to no one in particular in an effort to cover her slip. Pulling back the string this time had slightly better success, but she kept wanting to tip the bow a hair to the side so the arrow wouldn't slip again, which made pulling awkward.
”The arrow will slip a lot at first. Risers aren’t great for starting out, but I hadn’t thought to pick up a whisker biscuit earlier.” Future lessons necessitated picking up the device, especially if she intended to continue with his bow. Familiarity would allow for the return to the riser, but until then, accounting for arrow placement complicated matters.
Shale’s hands slipped into his back pockets while he stood back and watched her fumble with the bow. The second round left the arrow in place, and she seemed capable of pulling back the weight set to the bow. Luckily full length fostered 75% letoff, which meant she could hold the weight a while for any last minute adjustments.
Finally Shale stepped in again to add some instruction about the riser itself, which she seemed unsure about. “The riser has these two bumps, here and here,” he pointed to each as they framed beneath the arrow, “where the arrow rests. These normally hold it into place unless you tip too much - but keeping the bow balanced when you draw eliminates any problems. See the level here?” Another point toward the sight showed a remarkably small yellow measurement for the bow’s angle. “If you can ballpark it to center, you won’t have much trouble from the riser. As for pulling back…” His voice trailed off while he busied himself with further adjustments.
A hand came down to her elbow, where he pulled it closer to himself. “You’re hyperextending, so you’ll hit yourself with the string. It’s natural to choose the pose that has the least amount of work, and trusting the weight to the bone is easiest, but it’s a lot more painful - and less accurate - to shoot that way. It looks like your shooting hand is in the right position. You’ve got the string across your cheek, which is good. Can you line up the peephole and the sight? If you can aim toward the target with the two, then you can touch the release trigger. Just try not to move much when you do it.” Too many archers had the habit of pulling their arm backward in the process, contributing to inaccurate shots. He couldn’t understand the trend himself, nor how it started.
Backing up, he let her finish with firing the arrow, assuming she had no compunctions about doing so. It was a weapon she fired, and at least in his hometown, there lay a fair amount of apprehension around using one.
Okay so, if she kept the bow upright, the arrow would stay on the riser? Sounded good. The little yellow gauge was a surprise to find, but it was helpful, showing her how to correct her hold. Each thing sharpened her focus and when he pulled on her elbow, she followed his lead and held at the new angle.
Getting over the tension somewhere in the middle of the bow had been a surprise, but full draw was not terrible to hold. Good thing, with all their delays for adjustments she tried to keep ordered in her head. It was good she was good with lists.
Adjusting herself, Orah got the two pieces lined up, or what she thought they were. That was the sight, right? Lifting the bow, she squinted, resisting the urge to close one eye and simplify her view. Carefully, she centered the sight on the yellow center of her target as her teeth worried her lower lip. Her breathing slowed, grew shallow as the rise and fall of her chest made the bow wiggle in her hands. Steady… steady…
Orah froze as she triggered the release, her eyes widening as the string snapped straight again and she actually felt the loss of the arrow. It flew with surprising force towards the target and thumped into the white area above the target. She let out a delighted laugh as she lowered her bow, excitement lighting up her face.
“I hit it!” She laughed as she turned to invite Shale to enjoy the success with her, beaming widely.
Shale raised both eyebrows when he saw the arrow strike the target. In the white, yes, but striking the target at all on the first shot in the history of her life looked quite impressive. “Huh.” He snorted lightly - a start toward mirth. “You’re already doing far better than I did when I first started. I didn’t hit the target ‘til my third volley.” Granted, he found it utterly disappointing at the time, but he expected excellence out of the gate. Whether by his temperance or just a natural understanding for how learning a new skill worked, Orah didn’t seem like she expected the same.
In fact, she looked quite happy to see her first strike protruding from the target.
Her exuberance about it reminded him of Jack and all of her fearless excitement, but a margin more tempered and soft. She wore it well, compared with the general malaise she carried almost dutifully. He only wished he could match her of her outward energy, but Shale could hardly manage more than a smile. Anything more felt unlike himself, and more posturing than honesty.
“It’s a good start. A really good start. Keep that up with the rest of your arrows, and if your posture holds, we might even start adjusting the sight today. She might actually have a natural talent for shooting - one thing he often envied other hunters for. And if she could internalize the proper posture for shooting a bow, she might reach his level of accuracy inside of a year. Such a result promised a great deal of pride if he could mentor her to that point.
Assuming, of course, that she intended to stick with archery.
“I’ll keep evaluating you for the rest of your four arrows. After that, I’d like to see how much of the posture or steps you can reproduce on your own. You can ask me if you run into problems.”
Whimsical Blue
