Today was not for practice, so she hadn’t gone with her ‘archery shorts’, as she’d come to name them in her head. It was a sundress this time, soft and loose in its pale lilac color. The yoke neckline left her arms bare and unhindered, which seemed like a good idea if she were going to be picking up and handling bows. She wasn’t entirely sure what all it would entail, but Shale had said he would help her look for her own set and he seemed sure a shop would have some to browse.
It was hard to say if she’d walk home with anything, but she had a little money put away, just in case. It certainly wasn’t going to be anything fancy, but when had she ever insisted on ‘fancy’? Hand-me-downs were more her speed. Her lace and ribbon wrapped boots scuffed the floor as she dug into her messenger bag, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything as she mounted the stairs to the apartment. Money, some online ad listings she’d seen, the typical expanded first aid kit, her keys, the arrow puller Shale had given her… it all seemed to be there. Forgetting something was a rare occurrence for the young woman, but you could never really be sure. It would have been embarrassing to go to purchase and come to find out her wallet was at home.
Brown knuckles rapped on the familiar door when she reached it and Orah idly straightened her bag’s strap across her chest, one hand settling the latch in place on the front of the leather flap. She was neither early nor late, according to the watch on her left wrist, it’s silver band done in delicate-looking, but sturdy heart-shaped links. Hopefully he was ready, though it wouldn’t be a hardship to wait a bit.
His cell went off while he finished his drink, and he set aside his coffee almost eagerly. He never much appreciated it, but chicory still urged nausea so soon after his incidental brush with death. The text was simple, and explained Orah’s intentions for archery shopping today. Easy enough; Shale knew of several locations right offhand that proved a revolving door for bow sales.
He dressed appropriately - inevitably torn jeans, dark grey tanktop with mesh lower half to take into account weather, a handful of leather bracelets, and a quill necklace that sat heavy on his chest. The lattermost he knew posed its own trouble, but the aesthetics of it earned particular favor with him. Earrings went in afterward, hidden as they were - he doubted anyone recognized that he wore gauged piercings, especially when carved of wood, but he acknowledged it as part of the interest.
Shale had only finished wrestling his hair into a ponytail when the knock sounded. He made a last attempt of it , though much of the hair attempted escape of the elastic band and only seemed to explode outward. Shouldn’t have used shampoo last night.
He started toward the door while he removed the band. It found refuge on the lone end table while he passed it, and Shale resigned himself to overheating throughout the day until they found a haven of air conditioning. A hand closed around the handle while he unlatched the door, and he opened it to the much-telegraphed visit from Orah. It looked like she took punctuality seriously; the clock on the stove read 9:59.
Right. Pleasantries first. “It’s good to see you again. Do you need anything from inside? Most of the archery shops are opening about now, so if you needed drink before any shopping, best to get it now.”
The door opened and to her relief, Shale greeted her and seemed entirely prepared and ready to go. Orah smiled as she shook her head, stepping back to clear space for him. He look good in his rough jeans… but that wasn’t news. His hair was loose though, looking even more wild than it usually did. She wasn’t entirely sure how he could stand to have it hanging around his face like that… it had to get into his eyes all the time.
“Ah, no, but thank you.” She said as she automatically glanced through the opening, seeing no one but him this time. I wonder what Slate is up to. “I’m not thirsty and I can pick up something later if need be. I’m glad you’re willing to come out with me. I’m looking forward to this quite a lot.”
Fingers linked loosely together behind her back, she felt more at ease here, even excited, than she could remember being about anything in a while. Granted, she had been excited to go with Laney to the dance, but that had been equal parts nerves and an ending that ruined most of anything good about the night. She’d felt horrible about it, and furious with Matthew. This time, it was just her, doing something she’d found she really wanted to do, in the company of someone who didn’t stir up her emotions in ways she didn’t want to deal with. Shale was easy, and safe, to be around. It was nice not to have to worry about what she was saying, or what he was going to say to her or do or anything like that.
“I’ve managed to make it through entire practices without snapping myself for a while now. I’ve been practicing a lot in my free time.” Orah said as she let him lock the door and followed him down the stairs. “We’ll have to look into arrows too… if I’m not renting, I suppose I’m going to need my own everything. Did you want your release back, by the way, the one I’ve been using? Or did you mean for me to keep that? I could buy my own at this point, though I really appreciate that you’ve let me use it so far.”
She laughed as she displayed her fingers for him. “I’m getting weird little calluses from it. I’ve never had ones in these spots before.”
Shale spoke while he locked the deadbolt to the apartment. “I don’t often turn down a chance to look at bows. Most of the companies are proficient at turning out new product at a regular pace; it gives me an opportunity to see new models as they hit the used market.” Beyond that, assisting anyone in their shopping endeavor gave him a chance to better evaluate their preferences and priorities in bows, as well as how they shot. Orah’s technique might’ve changed since he last saw her, as she explained.
“You can keep the release if it works for you; it was my brother’s initially, and he has no interest in shooting.” Down the stairs the pair went, around the corner, and out through the locked apartment doors. The maintenance man waved to the pair, but he took little notice. “You don’t need to worry about gratitudes. Its use is enough.” This seems to be another cultural affair, both on expectation from the giver and obligation from the recipient. How obnoxious. It seems that honesty has no place here.
Having found no shops in walking distance, their trip necessitated a bus run. He traveled down the courtyard steps to the sidewalk, turned, and headed east on Second Street to pick up Greenfield. With Orah along, it was a quick jog across a pair of intersections and they reached the familiar covered bench featuring the Destiny City transit logos. Line 33 crossed here, and by look of the posted schedule, it would arrive at their stop ID within minutes.
Shale slowed to a stop and leaned against the plastic barrier for the bench; it featured hard water stains and smears from thousands of children touching its surface. “I expect that you enjoy archery, then.” He looked to her for a moment, then to her hands again before coming back to her face. “If you’re interested, we can try something different. I don’t know where you’ve been practicing, but indoor ranges are easier than outdoor ranges, and outdoor ranges are easier than targets set up in the woods. It wouldn’t be much work to get a few of the cardboard targets and fasten them near a forest hill. You would learn to shoot through obstacles that way.”
And there’s little gap between that and hunting. I wonder if you could end a life, Orah.
”It was Slate’s?” Orah said as she brushed her fingers over the bag that hung on her hip. That was an interesting bit of news and she wondered if he’d told her that before and she’d forgotten. She also wondered what Slate thought of it, though Shale was probably right that he had no need for it and thus didn’t want it. It was a shame Slate didn’t care for Archery. Shale was a good teacher and the time she spent at the range was some of the better times in her life right now. Things faded a little into the background while she was concentrating. It felt nice.
“Is he out today?” She said as she followed him down the stairs and out the door, offering a wave back to the maintenance man. When they hit the courtyard, she had to stretch her legs to match Shale’s stride in an attempt to keep up with him. “I didn’t see him back at the apartment. I met him the day I brought your arrow puller back, if he didn’t tell you that. He seems like a good kid. I’m really glad you found him.”
The young woman chose not to go into more detail than that. It would be rude to talk about how his younger brother had acted, and really, it wasn’t that bad all things considered. Best just to not bring it up.
Orah picked up her pace as Shale broke into a jog, trotting after him and catching up after he came to a stop by the bus bench. Her breath came a little faster for the activity, but she wasn’t really winded and still feeling good. She chose not to take the grimy bench as a seat and wandered around it instead, running her eyes over the walls of the bus shelter. No signs left behind by Watchers or other Order members, speaking warnings or pointing the way to safety. It will be years yet before they appear, but I may always be looking for them, whether or not they ever do. She brightened at his question and turned back with a smile.
“I really enjoy it!” She agreed, coming back around towards him. There was animation to her features and honest, innocent enjoyment of a thing simply for itself. Excitement joined it at his offer and she had to work to keep herself from bouncing on her toes like a child. “I would like to do that! I’ve been practicing at the outdoor range you took me to, when I can. I don’t mind always shooting at the same target, but it would be a great change of pace to try something new.”
Shale spent a great deal of their walk putting off the previous question, and attempting to discern a believable lie to explain his brother’s absence. It felt near impossible - more so with the knowledge that Orah met him before. She knew, then, how Slate acted. However, she would also know how well he ran his mouth and had likely formed the understanding that his actions could easily get him into trouble.
The minutes passed, and Shale offered her a favorable glance with the knowledge that archery excited her, but he could not commit fully to approval when his mind still lingered on his brother. “It should be easy enough to set up. Cardboard targets aren’t terribly expensive. It’s a change of pace, at least; working on the same target at the same angle for so long allows your skills to go lax. We can go into a forest that I’m familiar with and set up if you find time to do so soon. Especially if you get a bow today.” Likely not - if she is the meticulous type, then she may take several days of looking over products to formulate an idea of what works best for her, and whether she wanted to pursue the prices offered. Perhaps he should have considered that before he added the last comment.
A slow sigh escaped through his nose while he went over how to address the question of his brother; putting it off so long seemed suspicious, and he was disinclined to answer carelessly about it. “Slate and I are having problems again. He’s getting mixed up in things that he shouldn’t. He might not return home until I have left it.
“Which, I should mention - I am moving soon.” The arrangement offered him no pleasure, but he understood the need to entrust him with the task. Promotion was a reward, and the responsibilities that came with it demanded careful initial monitoring. He doubted he would be entrusted with lieutenants until he proved his merit in interpersonal situations.
Then the bus arrived, in its familiar royal purple, laden with ads and disconnected people. He boarded it without another word and paid fare to take a seat. While crowded, he found a pair of open seats toward the back of the bus, in an elevated area that effectively barred access to the disabled. He stood back to allow the window seat, so he might take the aisle.
It was odd that he pointedly avoided the topic of his brother in favor of the topic of targets and it made Orah wonder what had happened. Had they gotten into a fight over something? She hoped not… he’d been so desperate to see his brother he’d put his own life at risk just for news of him. Having a blow up over who knows what seemed a poor return for his care. Still… she allowed him the safer topic if its what he wanted and Orah let the excitement animate her.
“I can take care of the cost of the targets, since you’ll be doing the work of putting them up AND teaching me.” She said as they waited, rocking idly onto her heels and back. She felt like a child going on a shopping trip for a new toy, not a full grown woman researching the equipment for a new hobby. It was silly, but she couldn’t help it. “Which, by the way, reminds me. This was supposed to be a trade, but I don’t think I’ve done anything to repay you for all the instruction and help you’ve given more, or all the time out of your schedule. Is there anything you’ve thought of that I could do for you?”
As much as she liked being with Shale, just because she’d have done something like this for free didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to. He’d mentioned having non-monetary things she could help him with, being native to the city and more used to the people here. She’d like to be able to give something back to him in gratitude for all the effort he was expending that he wasn’t obligated to.
Just when she thought he’d ignore her questions about Slate entirely, Shale finally admitted to having problems. Orah’s brow creased with concern as she listened, her rocking slowing to a halt.
“Mixed up in things? I hope he doesn’t get hurt… I would offer to keep an eye out for him, if you wanted. If I see him as I’m out and about. I know how worrying younger brothers can be.” She certainly got enough of that with Matthew.
She followed him up into the bus when it arrived and kept close as he picked a seat in the upper section. She glanced at the window as he offered her the inner seat, but the hesitation was more in her head than in her motions as she sidled past him and slid onto the slick fake leather. She could feel the pock marks in it from long, rough use, her fingers tugging her skirt down so it lay properly across her knees. It was silly to feel even faintly trapped, sitting on the inside. It was unlikely they’d be attacked here, or that she’d have to make an exit in a hurry. There was no reason Shale couldn’t enjoy the greater freedom of the aisle for this trip. Had things been different… maybe she’d have liked it, sitting hip to hip with him, his shoulder and thigh warm beside hers. It wasn’t often she got to travel with someone she knew.
”There isn’t a need for anything yet. I don’t know if most people that you’ve met decide on their favors so quickly, but I’ve been raised to consider for years before making a decision on what another person can do for you.” There is nothing yet to declare with her. But she has talent in medicine - if there’s need to save his life…
The bus ride was relatively short, and Shale spoke very little. He only gave indication of when their stop would occur, and pulled the metal cord as needed. He crossed down the aisle where few had gotten up and disembarked from the bus only a few shops down from their destination. He waited in case Orah got stuck behind a slow-moving passenger, then started down the street for the shop itself. Before they reached the doors, it occurred to him that a slight warning was in order: “This shop is commendable for its used bow selections. However, the owner is an intolerable man. He will belittle and insult when he gets the chance.” How he ended up owning one of the most sought-after archery shops in the region was beyond him.
Shale pressed through the hinged glass door, and the insults flowed soon afterward. Shale’s sexuality was called into question, and Orah’s presence there belittled as a tagalong. Sexism ensued and one of the workers on the other side of the counter called for him to knock it off. Shale paid it little heed; he offered no eye contact or response as he headed toward the many racks of used bows. The man took one last moment to comment that Orah must be lost, because the mall was a few streets up.
Shale’s irritation was evident in his gaze, but not much else. “This place takes a small cut for consigning bows so the prices are a little higher than if you were buying directly from another archer. One of the first things you’ll want to consider in buying a bow is what you’re using it for. When I’m here, it’s because I’m looking for another hunting bow - I’ll want something of viable camouflage for the area I’m hunting in, so these bright pink and blue bows are out of the question. The type of game I intend to hunt with it becomes my second thought, which omits either the higher draw weight or lower draw weight bows. If you intended to stick with target shooting, and have no interest in hunting, then all the colors present stay open for you.
“So what would you do with your bow?”
Years? Orah gave a long blink as she absorbed that and considered it. It could be years before he decided on what she could do for him in return? He was putting a lot of trust in her, to wait so long before asking for payment. With so long to think about it and seemingly so much consideration put into it, was she going to end up with some figurative mountain of debt to repay him? It was something of a gamble on both their parts, it seemed.
“I don’t mean to rush you, or seem to. Just let me know what you decide when you do.”
It was something to mull over on the ride, though soon enough her mind turned with anticipation to what they were traveling to find. Renting a bow was nice enough, it got the job done, but she wanted something of her own. Something she didn’t have to give back at the end of practice, that was configured specifically for her and that she could grow accustomed to using. Her own things in her own case, used by no one else. There were few things Orah felt particularly proprietary over, but it seemed her bow was already one of them and she hadn’t even picked it out yet.
That was good, wasn’t it? Everyone said she never took care of herself. Here was something she was doing purely for herself, because it made her happy and it improved her skills.
She was keyed up with excitement when they arrived and she followed close behind him off the bus and down the street. It wasn’t until they neared the shop and he delivered his sudden cautionary information that Orah felt any sort of dampening of her spirits. Her eyes wide, she nodded as she followed Shale inside, only half believing what he said was true. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? How could you own a store and actively insult your customers? That was a very fast way to lose business as word spread and new customers slowed to a trickle.
Sadly… he was entirely right in his assessment, to the point that Orah felt her face heating and her shoulders start to hunch as she shifted into the protective shadow of her friend and teacher. How incredibly rude of the owner… Orah almost couldn’t believe the things that were coming out of his mouth. Did he actively not want them to buy anything? As someone who had grown up in retail, who had lived and breathed the life of dependence on the ebb and flow of transactions, the fact that he should speak to them like that at all was more insulting than the things he was saying. The young woman’s brow furrowed and she straightened herself up, her back straight as a ruler as she pushed her shoulders back with authority. She was not a child and the money was in her pocket. If he wanted to make a sale, it was her decision to give it to him or not.
“Why do you come here if the owner is such an… a*****e?” She said in an aside to Shale. The insult felt weird in her mouth.
Still… she considered his questions, carefully laying out her answers for him. What did she want the bow for? Her thoughts turned towards the future and her jaw firmed.
“I want something that can be serviceable in a variety of situations.” Orah said as she glanced up at him and then back to the displays along the wall. “I’m probably going to be doing a lot of target shooting for a long while, but some day I’d like to learn how to hunt with it. I don’t know what for… probably in the range of small to medium. Things I can carry myself. Its doubtful I’d need to bring down anything as big as a wild pig or a deer.”
This time, if she ended up living in the forest, she’d have some small, reliable way of feeding herself. Or hopefully at least.
“I don’t want anything brightly colored. Browns, greens, navys… something that doesn’t stand out would be good. It doesn’t need to be fancy, just reliable.”
”I already told you why.” Having to repeat himself posed a frustrating suggestion - that she hadn’t bothered to listen in the first place. Irritation maintained a subtle seethe beneath the surface. He hadn’t pressed it further, instead letting the topic of the shop and its owner drop.
Shale meandered between the round display racks of different bows until he located a section more fitting to his next suggestions. He lingered a moment, estimating the grip length of some of the bows, before he came to a stop around one of the displays. “They do make hybrid bows. If you’re looking for something that suits both purposes, you can look into the 3d archery bows. It’s not anything I’ve tried personally, but… The sport of 3d archery requires one of those false animal targets, and demands some of the force in hunting to drive the arrow into the target, but it requires accuracy to land your arrow on the target side of the animal. Beyond that, you’d just need to drive up the draw weight to hunt with that type of bow.”
He gestured to a few of the bows available around him in invitation. “Most of these should work for both purposes. Matthews and Hoyt both make quality products. Try stock as you see fit.”
One of the men from the counter advanced upon the pair, interested to see if they need further assistance. “You two alright here? If you have any questions, let me know. And if you want to try shooting with one of those, there’s a private lane in back for bow tests. Just come get one of us and we’ll see if it’s clear for use.” With a nod, the man returned to the bow press sitting out on the carpeted countertop.
Shale watched him for a long moment while his hand lingered absently on the tips of his quill necklace. When he returned to work, Shale looked back toward Orah to see if she made any inspections of the bows yet. “I also come here because I knew his brother.”
Orah made a soft noise at his reply, but let the thread go since he seemed inclined to do so. Apparently, the selection here was worth the abuse, in his mind. Maybe he could bear it better than she could and it didn’t bother him as much? He had already shown that he had a far steadier personality than she did. These could be the cheapest, best quality bows in the world and she’d still be disinclined to buy them with that rudeness going on if Shale wasn’t by her side. He was the only reason she was here, in a lot of ways really.
When they finally reached a rack that caught Shale’s interest, she took the opportunity gladly to move on to something more pleasant. She liked bows, even if the sheer vast array of kinds and types and uses that went with them was becoming rather daunting. 3D bows? Hybrids?
“Don’t you hunt with that bow you were letting me use? You had those special tips for your arrows, the ones you switched out when we went target shooting.” She asked as brown fingers picked something rather at random to pick up and settle into her grip. It had a bit of heft to it and felt odd after getting used to the rental bows she had been using. “... I guess those could have been for your hunting bow, now that I think about it. I suppose you can use the same arrows in different bows.”
White teeth nibbled her lip as she turned to hold her bow out as she would at the range, setting her fingers to the string but not pulling it. This was… really hard, actually. What made any bow any different than any other, and how was she to know what would suit her best? She had such limited experience… but that was why she’d asked Shale to help, wasn’t it? Setting the bow she held back in the rack, the young woman pulled out another and testing it’s feel in her hands, trying to judge which felt ‘better’.
“If… if you had to chose one for me…” She said as she lifted the bow, gazing down the sights. “Which one would you chose? Do you think I would be better off starting out with something more specialized for either targets or hunting, and not both?”
The clerk coming to see them offered a distraction and Orah drew her elbows in as she lowered the bow she held, half expecting the same treatment from this man as from his employer. She was relieved that he was courteous and didn’t hang around. She glanced up at Shale as she put the bow back, a thoughtful line between her brows.
“Were you friends with his brother?”
The question concerning the man’s brother dampened Shale’s spirits somewhat, but he diverted his attention to the bows on rack to distance himself from the memories. “It’s hard to say if ‘friends’ is the right word, but we talked frequently enough. I never made a point to approach him specifically - maybe ‘acquaintances’ is better. He used to shoot frequently during the summers, so we’d see a lot of each other. We started becoming closer when one of his hunting ventures went awry and he was gored by a buck. I tried to assist, but it didn’t change the outcome.”
Shale plucked one of the bows from the rack, surveyed its weight and balance in hand, and drew back on the bow to check the sight path. “Now he’s a part of the forest.” The taut string was let down carefully to avoid dry firing.
That particular model went back to the rack. He returned to her earlier question with more enthusiasm than he showed for this particular story. “If you’re planning to do both target shooting and hunting, then I would choose a bow that accommodates both. Even if it’s not specifically designed for one or the other, it provides well enough in both categories for a beginner. And many hunters own more than one bow, so if you find more interest in target shooting, then you could buy a second bow to accommodate that. In this shop, they tag the bows with colored dots that indicate its usefulness in different applications - red for hunting, blue for target shooting, and green for 3D archery. You’ll want to look for the green ones if you’re interested in taking my suggestion.
“The one I lent you was a hunting bow, yes, so it lacked the stability of a target shooting bow. The arrows you were talking about weren’t really different from any of the others I use - only the tips were changed. Those were broadheads.” Another bow was plucked from a different rack, tested, and then handed to Orah. “You’re right in that the arrows themselves don’t necessarily change. It is important, though, to consider the grain - or weight - of the arrow in combination with the tip. If you were shooting professionally at either, you would likely use entirely different arrows for each. Especially if you’re using different bows.”
Orah ran her fingers over the arch of a bow as she listened, eyelashes lowering. She felt a pang of sympathy for him, and for the man who had died in a hunting accident who had been his friend.
“I’m sorry.” She said, straightening up to better attend to his explanation. “I understand now.”
The young woman took the bow he handed her and held it carefully. It moved smoothly as she drew it back to get a feel for it. It felt better in her hands than the one she’d picked up before and much different than what she had been using to date. She wondered how it would feel to shoot it and how much it would affect her accuracy… If the bow she had been using with Shale was for hunting, were the rental bows for target shooting? She supposed it made sense, considering. There was a good chance it would be a long while before she tried out actual hunting, but now that the idea had surfaced, she felt a growing determination to learn to do it. Maybe she’d never need it, maybe she’d only ever do it for recreation, but she still wanted to know how. If things were going to be different this time around, she had to make them different and this felt like a good start. Shooting targets set up in the woods felt like the next step to that.
“This one feels okay… Should we go try it?” She asked as she eased the string down again, glancing around to find the worker who’d approached them before. She hadn’t considered that she’d get to actually test out a bow, but now she felt silly for that. Anyone who bought things like to test them out to see if they’d suit. It made sense to encourage sales by letting someone test shooting the bow they wanted to buy. Put things in people’s hands, let them hold it, and the chance of making a sale went up by a good many degrees.
“What is the differences in the grains?”
Shale nodded while he held onto the rack. He shifted his weight to a more casual pose, with one foot crossed behind the other. Orah continued to survey the bow, so any nonverbal assent would go unnoticed. “Yes. Think of it like buying a shirt without trying it on. You may like what it offers and how it looks, but you need to know that it can suit you. Always fire a bow whenever possible, and don’t buy from someone who will not let you try it out.” None of the archery shops he had in mind would ban such a practice, but he wasn’t certain that Orah would not venture out on her own to shop for additional deals. She needed to know how to take care of herself in the future, for when archery grew to a fully established hobby in her life.
A quick nod to the clerk that assailed them earlier had gotten his attention, and them and started wrapping up his current duties. “Grains…” He straightened up and slipped his hand from the rack. Both hands slid into back pockets while he waited. “You might be thinking of wood grain, or texture. ‘Grain’ is a weight measurement. A very general rule of thumb is that the lighter the grain of your arrow, the farther it will travel and the more accurate it will be. Anything you add to the arrow shaft - the tip, or the fletching - will add to the arrow’s grain.”
The shop assistant waded through the forest of display racks to meet the pair, and offered a polite inquiry. His hands clasped together and rubbed frequently, as if nervous about a nebulous affair. “Did you find a bow you want to try, Miss? If you’re ready, follow me and I’ll get the target set up. I’ll need your draw length and a weight you want to try at, but it won’t take longer than a few minutes.”
Shale’s gaze fell to her, though there was a rare distance to it. He pulled himself back from his thoughts, and offered the bow a once-over for its accessories before he offered one last comment to the clerk. “She shoots with a release, too.”
She felt slightly silly, when he assured her she needed to try any bow before she bought it, for even wondering. Ah well. She was still new to this, she supposed there was no way for her to truly be sure of anything.
“Are heavier grains sturdier? Do they penetrate better?” There had to be some sort of trade off, otherwise why bother having different grains at all? She had a feeling the weight of it probably corresponded to the size of what you were hunting. It was an interesting thing to ponder. Shale no doubt knew all of this already, what was best for what. Learning that was all part of learning archery and enjoyable for it.
The young woman gave her draw length dutifully when asked, then glanced to her teacher for confirmation on the weight to use. He was giving her a strange look and she blinked, tilting her head a little at him. He seemed to pull together all right after a moment, making her wonder where his thoughts had gone just then. She wanted to ask, but time with him made her think perhaps it was better not to. If he wanted to share, he would, as he had in the past. Too often, her curiosity seemed to bother him as she brought up uncomfortable memories.
Orah surrendered the bow when needed to the assistant, following out back to where the targets were set up for them to test on. She dug her release out of her bag before pulling the strap over her head and letting the bag settle on the ground off to the side where no one would trip on it. Setting up to shoot felt familiar and comfortable now, even tinged with the excitement of a new bow and a different range. She could hardly wait to be given the bow back to test and it showed in her face, though she stood quietly until it was in her hands again.
The question over grains left Shale scraping the recesses of his mind for answers. “It’s not that they penetrate better. It’s…” Shale considered his words carefully while the pair approached the private range that the clerk indicated. It sat in an awkward area, hidden within a long hallway that remained unnoticeable to most. A stack of hay bales lined the end wall, with a single target prepared for shots. The hallways felt narrow enough that only one shooter could remain at that location, and with barely enough room to shoot.
The hunter leaned against the wall, hands in back pockets and knuckles against the sheet rock, while he finally gave his explanation. “You need a heavier arrow for greater draw weight. That number is standardized at 5 grains per one pound of draw weight. For example, if you drew thirty pounds, you would need a minimum 150 grain arrow. If I was shooting at sixty, I would need a 300 grain arrow. Most arrows have a GPI rating - grains per inch - so you know the weight before you buy one. If you have an 8 GPI arrow and a 25 inch draw length, and you cut the shaft to 26 inches, you’ll have a 208 grain shaft. And without taking into consideration dynamic spine, arrow composition, fletching… Basically a heavier arrow grain results in the trajectory of the arrow curving down more. Lighter grain arrows remain relatively straight when shot.” He wondered how long it would be before Orah began asking questions beyond his knowledge base.
Finally the clerk returned with a ratcheting allen wrench in hand, looking expectantly at the pair. “I didn’t catch the draw weight. What would you like it set at?
Shale glanced toward him, stared through him for a second, and came back to reality. “30 should be fine.”
“Alright.” A few ratchet turns on the ends of the risers, and the clerk handed the bow to Orah in accompaniment with a handful of arrows. “Let me know if you need any more adjustments. I’ll be at the desk back there working on some other bows. He knows to give me a holler.” The man dismissed himself and retreated to the desk, seemingly in a hurry to do so. The shop owner offered a scowl but said nothing more to him. Instead he mumbled something that Shale couldn’t overhear.
“You may need to buy arrows depending on the bow you buy. Some come with arrows and a quiver, and some don’t. Most of the shop staff know what arrows to use with which bows, but the girl in the black shirt over there is the most knowledgeable. She won a handful of tournaments and a US national target championship. I think she might still offer lessons, too.”
Whimsical Blue
derp wrong username
