A small child was on the outskirts of the camp along with some other children, dressed in light furs suited for the weather as they stood in a line, the gaggle of children holding small bows more akin to toys than something a hunter would have, looking like thin sticks with easliy pulled string. The arrows themselves were nothing but sharpened sticks given minor fletching. In a technical sense, they would be good to practice on some small game like squirrels and even rabbits should they strike true, but anything else would be practically unwise.
An eight year old boy pouted at the target, set up perhaps 10 feet in distance, pointing at the arrow laying flat at the targets base as he looked towards an older man who looked to have quite a few gray hairs already and bore quite a resemblance to the child.
"Daobrunno! My bow's broken, I can't get the arrow to stick in the boar!"
the boar in quetion was a crudely carved piece of wood that even the most tact of wood carvers would hesitate to call a boar, but it suited its purpose whilst being accused by a young Maro Seran.
Szerak, who looked to Maro as if he was reminding himself of something as he muttered some words under his breath, sighed as he rubbed the temple of his forehead and then gazed at the arrow then to the whining child.
"Oes Maro, certainly it ain't because ya haven't been listenin' to a thing I've been sayin' about posture an' the fact that yer arrows ain't meant to pierce the thing, ne yer bow's certainly broken an' we should certainly get ye a better one"
"Oes Maro, certainly it ain't because ya haven't been listenin' to a thing I've been sayin' about posture an' the fact that yer arrows ain't meant to pierce the thing cuz yer bow's not tough enough, ne yer bow's certainly broken an' we should certainly get ye a better one"
"So does that mean ye'll be gettin' me a new bow?."
The other children giggled at that, one of the girl's covering her mouth with hands as she did so. Maro thought it was a reasonable thing to ask for
"Ne."
Was the blunt reply and Maro could only frown, his Daobrunno could be so unfair. It wasn't like he wasn't trying to make it work, the arrow just didn't hit where Maro told it to, A bigger and better bow would do so much better and hurt that stinkin' boar, he was sure.
"Alright, we had our giggles, now come on, get practicin' like I showed ya. If this were a real boar it'd be scamperin' or stickin' one of its horns in ya because ya ain't had the mind to shoot proper, an' I don't want any of yer da's and daoa"s givin' me dirty looks cuz one of you didn't had the sense to get it right the first time"
The children all grumbled, Maro particularly as he turned his gaze back to the boar. It wasn't just one of course, Daobrunno and the other adults had set a up a number of them each of dubious artistic skill for the children to practice on. He took a horizontal stance as he raised his bow, legs apart, neck turned to look at the target as he held the bow in his left hand, the other reached behind to the patchwork quiver holding his arrows. The shaft rested on above his thumb and forefinger, tickling the skin as it was pulled back once the butt of the arrow was nocked to the bow string.
Clearly, from a certain point of view, the arrow was pointed at the boar. So clearly, it would hit once the string was let go and, undoubtedly hitting the fat thing in the head. That did not happen as Maro let go of the string, the arrow did fly yes, a few feet before landing and sticking out a clear two feet away from the boar, taunting Maro of his failure.
"Daobrunnoooooo"
Szerak simply covered his face in his hands.