The young carpenter looked slightly worried as the huntress examined the newly made bow.
Fairlain ran her hands the length of the weapon, learning its curves and feeling the smoothness of the finish. It was good work. Taking the newly made bowstring, she placed one loop end on the bottom notch of the bow and, placing a softly booted foot upon it, bent the top of the bow down to meet the loop on the other end. Made taught, the bow seemed to tremble with anticipation.
Wilbe turned and drew out the bundle of arrows that Fairlain had fletched a couple of days earlier. "Here they is, miss..."
Stooping, she picked one up, and sighting an oak tree a hundred yards distant, nocked the arrow and with one swift motion sent it sailing into the trunk of the tree.
"Good," she said.
Glancing around she saw an elm tree a hundred yards yet further from the oak tree she had hit. Standing absolutely still, she closed her eyes and slowed her breathing to almost nothing, seeking the wind...if there was any. She felt the slightest of breezes traveling in the direction of the elm. She smiled.
Nocking another arrow, she drew the bowstring back to its fullest and let fly. The low-hanging branch she had aimed for shuddered and fell to the ground as the arrow sheared it from the tree.
"Better."
"Thank you, Wilbe", she turned to the young tradesman, who stood waiting "It's a fine bow. I'll leave them here until I come for them tonight, if that's alright?"
Wilbe bobbed his head in assent and then, as an afterthought, pulled a small knife from his belt and lay it on top of the quiver of arrows.
"If yer going into the wilds, you'll need that, as well..." he blushed.
Fairlain smiled, "True enough, Wil....thank you for that." She braced the bow with her foot once more and lifted the bowstring's loop from the end. The bow could rest until she returned that evening, then it would have to sing for her once again.
