His eyes were following it. From left to right, then to the far left again. The monotonous movement seemed to be inviting and mocking at the same time. But this couldn’t bother him. He could not allow himself to be bothered by it. By the trivial and unrelated thoughts that were invading his mind. He had to stay focused.
All the way to the right, a turn, and back to the left it went…
It was slow. Nowhere to rush, nowhere to escape. Just left and right, left and right, again and again, forever. He watched never ending journey with more interest than such repetitive show would have required, but he had his reasons to be so involved. It escaped his eyes only for a very brief moment when he glanced at his arm. It was locked straight and firm, except for a one short fit of trembling from the strain. ’Relax. Don’t go numb, but just relax. It is all so simple.’ His eyes were on it again.
Yet another turn at the left end before the trip down to the right began…
By now he had seen it enough. He knew everything he needed. He quickly looked at the metal tip pointing towards the wall and was reassured that it was set right. It wasn’t hot in there, but he almost expected a drop of sweat roll down his left cheek and into his hand. The hand was warm, though. He could feel it. ’Relax. Calm and focused… Calm and focused…’ Three fingers of the left hand were starting to get uncomfortable. But not for long. Soon.
It was coming close to where he wanted it to be. Where he was waiting for it. Just a few more breaths… One more… Now!
He relaxed his left hand’s fingers releasing the metal tip along with the whole shaft that soared through the air across the room. The string was no longer strained, his fingers no longer uncomfortable and his right arm now completely relaxed, almost falling numb for a moment. He watched the arrow fly towards it.
Too soon! The arrow flew by and got stuck in the wall just a trice before the target got in its way. One more breath and he would’ve got it. But now was not the time to give up.
The moment he saw that the arrow would miss the target, Fois quickly reached back and pulled another one out of the quiver, which was hanging over his shoulder, with two of his fingers. He knocked the arrow hastily, setting it hardly on the centre of the string. He was resting the arrow on the shelf of the bow, pulling back the string and aiming simultaneously. The Endal hoped that he had got back in the precisely same position as moments ago so that now the target would be right in front of him. Without having the time to check if it was the case, he released the arrow.
Obviously with such hurried preparation he needed twice if not triple the amount of luck than he had skill to come even close to hitting, so while the first arrow had hit the wall respectfully near the moving target, this one ended up embarrassingly far away from it, so that it was hard to tell what the shooter was aiming for at all.
Fois cursed at first when he had hit it so wide, but moments latter smiled at himself and laughed quietly. He shouldn’t be taking this practice so seriously. And even more importantly, there was no rush. If it was some sort of personal pride that he was trying to save with the second shot, then he had failed miserably. And that was a bit amusing to him. ’Relax. Calm and focused, you idiot,’ Fois thought still with a smile.
Another arrow knocked in his bow. Eyes set again on the target. It turned at the far right side and began moving back to the left…