Letting the arming sword slip from his fingers, Alexander marched across the turf, his strides long and calculated. It would be a curious sight to happen upon. No matter how determined his expression or supple his movements or short his haircut, nothing could fully obscure just how boyish and childlike Alexander's visage was.
And Alex despised it. He wanted people to know that he took this threat seriously, even if he was only a mere twelve year old. He wanted people to know that he was all too familiar with the fear of a veiled enemy, waiting to pounce. It was just like the last time.
Snatching his bow, the young Rosendahl quickly knocked an arrow to the string. Bringing the bow to full draw, Alexander took a moment to steady his bow hand before sighting and releasing, the youth's chest falling in his typical after-shot exhale.
Ziiiipppppp.... Smack!
Alex furrowed his brows, disappointed. He had fumbled his shot yet again, his efforts to calm his emotions in vain.
Ziiiipppppp.... Smack!
Was he being arrogant? Naive, perhaps? Maybe.
Ziiiipppppp.... Smack!
Probably.
Ziiiipppppp.... Smack!
Alex briefly closed his eyes, mentally picturing his next arrow flying in a perfect arc and landing in the center of its intended target. Other thoughts fought for dominance - Aunt Darcie, Aunt Julie, Bryn, Luci - but he pushed them away. Taking in another deep breath, the Rosendahl completely filled his lungs with air, bringing the bowstring to full draw before opening his eyes, sighting, and releasing.
Ziiiipppppp.... Smack!
Better. Not good enough. But better.
