[The Plucked Arrow] One more time (Kovac)

[Rista]

39th of Summer, 511 AV

It was so noisy. No matter what time of day it was the stone halls always seemed to echo from something. Be it water dripping from the rough stone ceiling, the shuffling of feet or the murmur of supposedly hushed voices - or not so hushed, the echo was rarely given time to die down before it all started up again. It was like walking into a wall of sound, and where some might find it pleasant and enjoyable, Rista mostly just thought of it as disturbing. She came rushing as one of the last of the yasi that flooded onto the range, out of breath and with the cheeks tinted in dark copper hues; only half of the long hair was braided and had been sloppily twisted into a bundle at the neck, where strands already tried to escape. It seemed wet, drops of water beaded down the dark black and red strands before trickling in uncomfortable streams down her neck and shoulders. Bendi must have been dirty, or she wouldn't have risked getting late just to take a bath.

The girl was carrying a bow and a quiver of arrows in her hands, with a rather proud look on her face. She demonstratively ignored the dark glances she received; even though it was only a shortbow, it was more than most yasi had in their possession, and many thought she was trying to show off by bringing it to practice. Rista didn't try to correct them. While it was great fun to annoy her fellow yasi with the things she said and did, the reason for her bow was quite simple. Being as short as she was, only four feet and six inches, the usual longbow was too impractical to use; too tall, too hard to pull. The one she had now might not be as strong and had a shorter reach, but she could use it without problem, which was the most important.

Glancing over the room and the three areas, the little mongrel quickly realized that she would have to wait a bit for her turn. All the single targets were occupied, the second range hosted three yasi on each and the first appeared to be occupied by some chiet, along with a few of the more skilled yasi. Sadly, Rista didn't consider herself as one of them; she grimaced and moved well out of the way for anyone with a bow. Carefully placing her equipment to the ground she instead began to warm up and looked at the others as she waited for a place to open up. It hadn't been smart to bathe instead of going to lunch. Her stomach was muttering persistently, complaining about hoe empty it was as she swung her arms in large circles to loosen up the joints and muscles. There hadn't been much of a choice though, unless she wanted to go to the range covered in dung from the stables.

The avora seemed to have given up on her; lately she had only been assigned menial jobs for bendi, as if they were convinced that it would serve her better than any real job, like glassblowing or similar. It was humiliating, but Rista could understand the masters all the same; she was unfortunately not very skilled in any particular subject, rather she was decent at best and in a wide variety of things. Nothing that would make her more than barely competent, and thus nothing to waste precious time on. The only skills she seemed to have an affinity for were ones every Inarta had. Some archery, a love for animal and a bit of a hand with raptors. It wasn't something that stood out, and when adding to that the fact that she was a half-breed with foreign looks, it was natural that others were picked over her.

Frankly, it sucked. Rista had just as high and wild dreams as every other kid at her age, and to see them stepped into the dirt and ground under heels was painful. Her black eyes served her well in hiding how much it hurt, but her hot anger every time she was shoved to the side or treated unfairly hinted that she wasn't as tough skinned as she made herself out to be. Her face as she watched the youngsters practice was glum; there was a very real risk that she wouldn't get to shoot anything at all if it kept up like this. Quiver after quiver was fired, in group the red-heads went to collect them, and whenever a spot seemed to be about to open up it was immediately filled again. It looked completely accidental, but with the way everyone refused to look at her it was made all too obvious what they were up to. Damn brats. How was she supposed to improve if she couldn't get to the range in the first place? Thin eyebrows contracted into a frown, she stretched her fingers with an absent-minded look to get rid of the itching feeling... Was it going to be another waste of time? Maybe she should have taken her time in the bath instead, it would have done her better than to wait like this.

oocNot sure that it makes much sense.. but ah well Tell me if you want the date changed

[Kovac]

Kovac stood at the entrance to the indoor archery range, bow and quiver in hand. The cacophony of yasi chatter echoed off of the walls as the crowd, mostly kids, milled about. The avora sighed. Sairque had, in her not so subtle way, convinced him to help train some of the yasi in the use of the bow. So here he was, less than enthusiastic to perform his duty. Kids. haranguing vermin always wanting something. This should be painful. The archer strolled through the range. It was packed, each lane occupied, most by more than one person. A majority of them were pathetic shots. He had his work cut our for him. With a grunt Kovac stopped. Two young boys began to argue about who's turn it was to use a lane, and their shoving match sent one of them slamming into the archer. With a grimace he grabbed them both by the back of the neck and flung them down, two others quickly took their lane. That is when one lone girl standing alone caught his eye. She was stretching, something he had yet to see one of the other shooters in the room do before they took their turn. Promising. The snarky avora made his way to the yasi, stopping short when she looked up at him. She was not Inarta, or at least, not full. In fact, Kovac had no idea what she was. Her eyes were dead black, no white, just black, like a doll's eyes. The only way he could tell she was even looking at him was that her head was tilted up towards him. Like himself, she did not have the inarta's fair skin, but while his was olive toned, hers had a rich copper cast. Her hair, sloppily gathered at the back of her head, had the same red-streaked black hue as his own. She was some kind of mongrel, he bet, just like himself. "What the petch are you?" He questioned bluntly. His gaze fell to the shortbow at her feet. Slinging his quiver over his shoulder, Kovac stooped and picked up her bow, examining it. "Not bad." His eyes scanned the crowd, then back to the black-eyed girl. "A shortbow is the way to go, you can't shoot effectively from the back of an eagle with a long bow, unless you want to bang your Endal in the back of the head with it. Which, on occasion, I have wanted to do. Follow me." Keeping hold of the girl's bow, Kovac elbowed his way through the crowd to a lane with a single target. Two Chiets were taking their time chatting and readying their arrows to shoot. Kovac put a hand on each of their shoulders and shoved them aside. "You are done." Picking up the chiet's quivers the avora tossed them too. Turning back to the girl, he gave her a wry grin as he unslung his quiver. "I am Kovac. So, whats your story kid."

[Rista]

Someone approached. With all the barely controlled chaos around, even the dark-haired man was barely noticeable and Rista didn't pay any attention to him until he stopped right by her. For a moment the girl considered ignoring him, but curiosity overcame her rather quickly and with a twitch at the corner of her lips she turned her head to see who it was. She had to stretch her neck to look up at him, but that was the case with most people, female as well as men, and it didn't phase her. No, the thing that made her raise a thin dark eyebrow in slight surprise was the fact that he was different. Not like the normal pale-skinned gingers, this person was darker, stranger. Her initial reaction was to frown in dislike; then she caught herself and nearly broke out in laughter. Just like the way all the other Inarta looked at her... She really wasn't an ounce better. A second look served her better, and as Rista took in the red streaks in his hair, the bryda and his older age her mind automatically tried to sort him into the cast system. Older than her by several years, and with that confident look on his face... Probably avora. At the very least she would assume that he was, just to be on the safe side. The real question was, what did he want from her?

A slight frown appeared on her forehead at the very blunt and rather unnecessary question, and she watched with a wary expression as he leaned down and picked up her bow. Wasn't it obvious? Mongrel, mutt, half-blood, black-head... The names were plentiful and too petty to really remember, none good enough to repeat. In fact, she wasn't even sure that the question in itself was worth answering. Her shimmering bare shoulders made a slight shrug that could have been an answer, if it wasn't just a part in the stretching. The short yasi wasn't sure how she was supposed to act; it was suspicious that this person was taking time to talk to her, and even more so for him to be complimenting her... The brief words of approval over her choice of bow was met with silence and a faint smile that flickered over her lips before it disappeared again; what was his purpose?

It was safe to say that she wasn't giving a very warm or open first impression. Not even when faced with a person that was so similar to herself did the girl relax, and her suspicion was written clearly on her face; she had never been good at hiding her emotions, and more often than not were they easy to read and even easier to predict. Stubbornness was a given trait for someone as different as her, it was a necessity to survive. And the simple fact that she wasn't playing dek to some other yasi hinted towards a strong pride... But hey, it was impossible to really know anything about a person by just a brief glance. Rista sure couldn't gather much no matter how hard she tried to figure this person out.

Still remaining quiet, she quickly snatched up her quiver and followed after the olive-skinned person as he turned around and began to walk; even without the order to follow, she would have anyway - why the petch was he running off with her bow? She was puzzled, wary, surprised by this uncalled for attention, and somehow also slightly intrigued. Was this going to be the light at the end of the tunnel for her? His comment just now had hinted that he was a hunter, and a skilled one at that to have been given permission to ride behind an Endal. Hope was a dangerous thing, but it was hard not to feel at least slightly curious when she watched the man drive away the two chiet - oh, so he actually was avora, that was interesting - and then smile at her.

Albeit slightly wary of him still, Rista returned it with one of her own - thin, restrained, but undoubtedly polite. This time she really had to reply, but it took a while before she managed to find suitable words to return his question with.

"It's a long and quite possibly boring one, Kovac Avora" she said, her gaze moving longingly towards her kidnapped bow. The weight of the quiver in her hand seemed to increase, as if the arrows longed for the target as much as she wished to fire them... "I'm pretty sure it's not going to be anything new.. not to someone who is like you."

Someone similar to me. The unspoken words seemed to linger in the air for a bit as she glanced up at him from the side. But how similar was he really? Did he feel the same doubt over his identity when he looked at his reflection? How far could she go, how much could she say? Hesitating, she searched for words that could suffice to give him what he was asking for, some small amount of information that would reveal everything without really saying much... None came to her though, and after a second shrug - distinct this time, unmistakable - she gave up and settled with offering the only thing she really could say without risk.

"My name is Rista, yasi on my last year..." In case it wasn't obvious. Some people thought she was younger because of her small stature; those that were too blind to see the slender waist, the growing chest and the sway of the hips as she walked. Some only looked far enough to see the unusual skin and the foreign eyes...

To what extent was this person interested in her? Was the questions just polite speech to fill the silence with? There wasn't really any silence to fill at the range, the man-high walls didn't do anything to shield off the noise that bustled around them. Rista found it hard to concentrate, her confusion over the situation was beginning to shine through. While she was happy to have been given the chance to approach the targets, she wasn't sure what the price was going to be. There was a fee to pay for every opportunity, and she had long since learned that it rarely stood in proportion to the things gained...

[Kovac]

The girl did stand out to Kovac amongst the red-headed throng surrounding them. It was what drew him to her in the first place, though the distracted avora had felt no compelling need to know why she was different, too intent on getting this insufferable task completed. Thankfully, she had remained respectfully silent, no doubt intimidated by him. But Kovac was not so indifferent, nor unwise, to overlook someone who had caught his attention. He trusted his instinct. This half-breed, or so he assumed she was, was worth further effort. Whether by gut feeling, or some frail, atrophied sense of sentiment for a fellow mongrel, Kovac decided to invest some time in the yasi. He continued to watch her as they moved towards a lane. Though he found it nearly impossible to read anything in her ebony eyes, her face was expressive, and he saw the suspicion and questions reflected in her coppery features. When the avora asked his question of her, he was sincere. Kovac did not waste time with pleasantries. He was genuinely curious about this mixed-blood, if only for the selfish purpose of co-misery. And he had to find out what was with the black eyes. The girl resisted his question, the shrug of her slight shoulders betrayed her discomfort at replying. Finally the yasi provided a diplomatic unanswer to his question. "Nothing new...to someone...like me?" The archer looked down quizzically at her. "You mean...someone...not like them." Kovac tilted his head, indicating everyone else in the room. "Rista." He rolled the word from his tongue, as if tasting it. "Last year huh, have you been picked up by anyone yet?" Kovac had figured she was close to leaving the yasi, her short stature not fooling him. He recognized the blooming curves of pending womanhood that her bryda and vinati could not conceal. The avora handed Rista her bow, pointing down towards the target. "Now show me what you got. And I will hear your story, though from an eagle's view...I don't need the mundane details." Kovac's words were spoken with surety, not leaving room for debate.

[Rista]

She glanced at him from the corners of her eyes as he repeated her words. Had she been too quick for him? Probably not, it was more like he chose not to pick up on her hint, especially with the way he moved on with the topic. The girl suppressed a wish to sigh at the too familiar question; it felt like it was one that had been asked by every adult person this summer. A stray thought passed to the red-haired man she had spent last market day with, but Rista was quick to push the thought of Eoin away again. He had nothing to do with this... It was humiliating to have to answer, but unfortunately she didn't have an excuse to remain silent. A slight twist of the lips gave away her reluctance, she tried to busy herself with fastening the quiver around her hips to avoid having to look at the man.. Kovac. She had to remember the name...

"I haven't, not yet. I've been asking around for a bit among the hunters, but so far others have been picked over me... I still have time though." He didn't need to know that she was doubting whether she would get a spot as apprentice at all. There was definitely no need to talk about how she feared falling down to become Dek, or say anything about the impossible dreams of eagles and honor... Rista wasn't about to make a fool out of herself, not more than she had to.

With the quiver tied safely around her hips and resting against her right thigh, the short mongrel looked up again and returned her gaze to Kovac. A brief feeling of disappointment reached her face as he persisted on the matter of her history - why did he even care? - but she complied as his tone hinted that he wouldn't tolerate any complaints. The dark-haired young woman allowed a brief sigh pass from her lips and pushed a few stray braids from her face; fine then. If he wanted to hear...
"Eagle's perspective it is then" she mumbled and received the bow, taking the opportunity to stall for time as she gathered both her body and mind for the coming exercise.

Taking the stringed shortbow in her right hand, the girl took a step forward and placed herself with the same side facing slightly towards the target. As she began to speak, black eyes measured the distance while the right hand shifted the quiver slightly, reached for an arrow and pulled it up to nock it to the string.
"As I said, it's not much to talk about" she said, the voice slightly distant as she focused more on the archery than the man with his questions. "I was born along with my twin brother some fourteen years ago so some random dek woman, from what I've been told it was the result of a brief connection between her and a passerby Chaktawe."

With the arrow in place and three fingers on the string, the girl lifted the bow somewhat higher than necessary, twisted her torso a bit more to align the missile with the target. Then, in a fluid motion she breathed in and pulled back the string while lowering the bow to a suitable height, pushing the wooden frame as much as she pulled with the right hand, until the feathers of the arrow tickled against her chin. The muscles of her back and shoulders tensed as she used them to carry the weight, with both eyes looking down the arrow to the tip she aligned the bullseye with the tip... Slowly she breathed out, the string slipped from her fingers and with a resounding 'twang' the bow retracted, sending the arrow flying towards it's destination. It felt good, but even before the arrow hit the target she knew it wouldn't be a perfect shot. The first one rarely was.. As she thought, upon a closer look the missile had embedded itself about a hand to the right and below the red dot. Not good enough.

"Like all dek kids we were sent to the nursery" she continued and reached for another arrow. "We didn't miss anything, life was good.. as good as it could be at least, when you were half-blood and everyone knew about it. When we were five, Karva - my brother - contracted an illness of some sort. I remember the healers running back and forth for half a season without anything changing... He died at the end of summer that year, and I was left alone."
Once again she repeated the process, raised the bow and pulled it, controlled her breathing and aimed. Her right shoulder raised up a bit, instinctively trying to protect the string and her right breast from each other. When she fired, the arrow sunk in about two fingers above the first one but still to the right of the bullseye. Rista frowned and glanced quickly towards Kovac, wary of both his presence and any thoughts he might have about her aim. A third time her hand reached for an arrow, her mind straying from the story of her life to try and figure out why she wasn't hitting the target.

[Kovac]

Kovac noted the deflation in Rista's already hesitant attitude when he asked about an apprenticeship. He did not know, of course, the reasons why the yasi had not yet been chosen, maybe she just didn't have a skill or talent, or...it may be the black eyes and copper skin. The avora leaned on his short bow, observing the girl as she donned her quiver. She looked up again at him as he asked about her past, and Kovac was unable to look away from the pitch black eyes. He knew he was pushing the girl with his questions. But she needed to be pushed, to own who she was, if she were to make it among the full blooded Inarta. With a sigh, Rista complied. Chaktawe, he thought he had head of them, he assumed they have black eyes. He listened to the rest of her story with semi-interest as he watched her ply her bow. Her technique was unrefined but not the worst he had seen. But when her arrow struck the target, Kovac was pleased. She was indeed better than most of the yasi hacks he had been burdened with, exhibiting at least a basic understanding of archery. The archer's eyes studied Rista's form and stance, still leaning on the bow. Even as she spoke, she was not distracted from what she was doing. Kovac was impressed. Rista's story was an unfortunate one, but Kovac did not pity her. Wind Reach was full of such stories. What was of interest to him, for some reason, was for this mongrel child to succeed. Not out of any philanthropic tendency, more out of a desire to see someone like himself make it. It would prove something, that he himself had value. Of course, this was all subconscious, Kovac would never admit such notions even to himself. Rista lined up another arrow and fired, making a start of a nice grouping in the target. As the girl pulled out a third arrow, Kovac reached out and put his hand in it. "Whoah. Lets go over a few things first. Your shooting doesn't make me puke...so we don't have to start from scratch. Now...nock your arrow and draw, but do not release." The archer watched as the yasi raised the bow and pulled back on the string. The girl had a good fluidity to her movement, didn't rush, and controlled her breathing well. Kovac placed his hand on her shoulder, pushing down gently. "Watch your right shoulder, don't raise it too high. If you do it right you won't hit yourself with the string." The avora's hand dropped, he sighed, looking out at the target at the end of the lane."My mother was a vanthan, she died giving me birth." Kovac felt compelled to tell her. He remembered the loneliness, even though he still had his father back then. "My own father would not choose me as an apprentice." His eyes remained at the target, avoiding the girl's strange eyes as he turned back. He could see the muscles in her arms and shoulders start to strain and quiver. "Alright...release."

[Rista]

She paused in her movements and allowed herself to look at Kovac from the side as he spoke. There was a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth at his dubious words - was that meant as praise, or what? Very reluctantly Rista found herself appreciating his rough words, amused by the ironic sting, and without fussing she did as he said, raised the arrow to the string and pulled. With her vision once more focusing on the missile and the target, she didn't see him move and was a bit startled by the hand on her shoulder; for a second she tensed, unused as she was to physical touch, but then forced herself to relax again and comply. Now she was just being silly, there was no reason at all to startle like a skittish horse...

It took some effort to gather her thoughts on the task again, and the increasing strain on her back and shoulders made it hard to think at all. Rista only listened with half an ear to the mans words, too occupied with the bow and the target, the string that dug into her fingers. She loosed with a sense of relief, grateful as the weight lifted from her arms; the girl blinked, and as she looked up again the arrow sat trembling just on the line of the red dot, still to the right and a bit low, but it was way better than the first two shots. Suddenly a bright smile flashed over her face, there and gone like the rains in spring, but it left a look of contentment behind that made the wary expression ease up a bit. She liked it when she improved, even if it was just a little bit. This time as she looked over at the dark-haired man her eyes seemed slightly more weighing, decidedly more respectful. He gave good advice it seemed.. Perhaps she had stumbled over an adult person worth listening to for once.

Waiting for an okay this time before she reached for another arrow, Rista found herself beginning to enjoy his company. She didn't really trust him of course, but at the very least she didn't think she would have to defend herself against insults about her heritage, hidden within sly comments or remarks. Not all adults held themselves above racism, she was as used to harsh teachers as she was to menacing yasi.

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother.. and father" she mumbled laconically in a slightly delayed response to his confession, not sure whether he wanted pity or just tried to share something with her. Rista had never had any adults close to her, the brother had been her only family worth speaking of, and while she had learned to cope without him, the loss could still be felt even this long after his death. Some people just couldn't be replaced.

"If I may ask.." She hesitated a bit and paused before she plied the bow once more, not sure how to phrase her words. This could be such an opportunity for her, and yet there was no telling what he actually was thinking. "What kind of person would you choose as an apprentice?" She didn't feel very subtle, it was probably quite obvious where she wanted to conversation to go. But then, this Kovac didn't strike her as the subtle kind either, and heaven knew that she was anything but subtle.. The girl decided that he could laugh at her if he wanted to, and then brought her eyes and focus back to the weapon in her hand. She was here to learn and practice, not fish for apprenticeship.

[Kovac]

Kovac watched Rista's arrow speed towards the target, puncturing at a very acceptable spot. He looked down into the deep wells of her black eyes and gave her a nod of approval, the corner of his own mouth lifting ever so slightly in a barely perceptible approving smirk. Again, the archer was hesitantly impressed. He had forced her to hold her string, deliberately taxing the muscles of her arms, shoulder and back and allowing her to feel the dig of the string in her fingers. Children were whiners, and the avora wanted to test this one's tolerance. The yasi did not complain, holding her stance until commanded to release, and still landed a decent shot. Kovac also felt the tension in her shoulder increase as he laid his hand on her. Understandable, yet she did not flinch. Excellent traits not just for an archer, but for a hunter, who often must hold the bow taunt and ready while waiting for an opportunity to get a good shot at one's prey. At the girl's polite notion of sympathy, Kovac shrugged and muttered a dismissive"Eh." There was no need to delve into further details of either of their histories, at least not at that moment. The avora simply wanted to let the young half-blood know that he did understand where she was coming from, that they shared some affinity. The archer pulled an arrow from his own quiver, nocked it and set his finger to the string, the iron practice head pointed at the ground, the string not yet drawn. His head twisted again to look down at her as the yasi made her coy inquiry about an apprentice. The earlier smirk drew into a wry smile. His eyes lifted again towards the target at the end of the practice lane, his smile intact. It was apparent what the girl was thinking. She had been passed over. Kovac was now convinced she possessive sufficient skill to be apprenticed, which led him to believe prejudice had thus far prevented her from being selected. That irritated the half-inarta. "Honestly, I have not considered taking an apprentice. I have a pretty full schedule. In addition to hunting, I provide private lessons to several people, including Endal, and am Shayth's personal instructor," referring to the eagle rider he lived with. Again his green gaze fell on the girl. "But if I did consider taking one on, I would prefer one dedicated to learning. Someone not prone to whining, or intent on cramping my style." Kovac continued, his voice lowering just a bit. "It would have to be someone special...and promising." Promising like Rista, and in spite of himself, Kovac did not immediately discard the thought. Seeing Rista ready to shoot again and respectfully await the signal to release, Kovac did not make her wait. "Shoot. Then wait further instruction."

[Rista]

The smile was probably a good sign. She really wanted to believe that it was, even though the words that followed were less than promising. The girl nodded a bit, accepting both his busy schedule and the vague requirements an apprentice would have to possess... Maybe it was time to let the subject drop. Rista had a feeling that Kovac Avora was one to make his decisions for himself, and if she began to nag about it, even most remote possibilities of her being a suitable candidate would vanish like smoke in a breeze. Besides, she didn't have much faith in her own abilities. She certainly never felt promising..

Pushing the thoughts away with something that resembled relief, the mongrel lifted her bow again and plied it, trying to focus on her breath and the bullseye and nothing else. A brief thought went to previous instructions and made her lower the right shoulder again and relax it a bit more. The weight of the string was slipping a bit over her fingers; damn. She wouldn't be able to hold it for too long, the grip wasn't good enough. Her lips tensed a bit, the girl aligned the arrow with the target at least somewhat and was just in time to do so before she dropped the string. The arch of the arrow was less controlled this time, it wobbled a bit on its way and the tip drove into the target some two hands away from the other arrows. The girl made a disgusted grimace. Well, for a total disaster, at least she had hit the target. Maybe luck was on her side at least, since she hadn't accidentally hit something else.

It was with reluctance she returned her eyes to the teacher, knowing fully well that it hadn't been a good shot. Her fingers played with the arrows in the quiver by her side; she could do better, she knew she could. He knew too, from the previous results. The girl chewed slightly on her lip and reached up to pull a strand of hair away from her eyes, gaze wandering back to the target.. Ugh. She felt like cringing whenever she looked at the arrow, and a wild desire to correct the screw up passed through her. He had said that she was supposed to wait, but.. Surely this shot didn't count. She had dropped it after all, it didn't account for anything.

Quickly the girl pulled another arrow, nocked it to the bow and lifted, her body automatically performing all the adjustments necessary to free the string and aim. Just as quickly she made a decision, aimed slightly above the bullseye this time, a few fingers away from her normal spot to make up for the inches that was missing in her best arrow; then she fired, quickly but with purpose this time. The twang of the bow felt like a song sung in exaltation, for some reason the blood in her veins felt like it had caught fire for a moment. The arrow struck the target with a muffled thump, and the girl looked to see where it had landed. Please make it a better shot, please..

[Kovac]

Before the shaft left the string, Kovac could see the pending failure. Rista did not have good placement of her fingers on the string this time, for some reason. Perhapsher focus on the shoulder he had pointed out had something to do with it. She managed to level the arrow at the target just before the string prematurely slipped from her fingers, and the resulting shot was a disappointment after her first two decent tries. Had it been luck? Was this girl just another child hack with the bow? The black-eyed teen's immediate response belayed the avora's readied reply. Her shoulders slumped, her void gaze reflecting her own disappointment. She too knew that she could have done better. No, Kovac was not wrong about her. She was still young, new to the art. There was potential still, Rista would just need to be polished. Like a newly forged arrowhead, dull at first, but with work, she could be honed to a deadly keen edge. Before the archer could impart more sagely advice, the yasi grabbed another arrow. Ignoring his direction to wait, the ambitious youngster raised the weapon again and with a determined set to her jaw, fell into her firing stance and let the projectile fly. As if the arrow itself had wished to vindicate the young archer, the missile thunked with a vengeance into the target close to the first two shafts, but this one inched closer to the prized center. Another sly grin curled at the corner of Kovac's mouth. He could not be more proud of the girl. Not only for the skill of her shot, but for her drive to remedy her former failed attempt. Following orders to the T and hanging up on discipline were not the half-bred avora's style. No, her defiance of his direction to wait actually impressed Kovac, it was bold and, luckily for Rista, had paid off with a stellar result. His gaze shifted from the quivering shaft in the target down to the girl. He gave her a slight nod. "You are lucky I am not an endal with a stick up my rear, or I would beat you for your insolence." His grin widened to indicate he would probably not resort to that form of punishment anyway. "But I applaud your determination to succeed. And indeed you have made yourself a nice grouping." His gaze darted again down the lane to the target, the bow in his hand raising, the string pulled back as the arrow leveled. In a quick breath, and with only the flinch of his fingers from the string, Kovac's arrow streaked towards the target to land amidst Rista's trio, sheering some fletching from one of them. The showy display was for Rista's benefit, to prove he was not just a windbag, but that he truly did possess the skill and talent to instruct her. Maybe, as much as the yasi wanted to impress him and garner his interest, Kovac wanted to demonstrate to her he was worth impressing. "Now," he turned back towards the mongrel teen, "we just need to move that group closer to the center." He held up his bow, gripping it in his left hand. "Do not hold the grip too tight, it could twist the bow and throw off your aim. Hold it like this, loosely." The archer held out the bow, resting the grip in the crotch between his thumb and forefinger, but not wrapping his fingers around the grip. His other hand held the string taut enough to hold the bow in place. "Hold it like this, or loosely wrap your fingers around it, but don't squeeze. You try." Kovac then stood back, studying the girl again. She was not frail or waifish like many of the other yasi. She had already began to develop a fullness to her hips and breasts, and her shoulders were wide and already well muscled. Even her physique was promising, providing a sturdy platform for solid shots with the bow. The snarky avora also noted that Rista showed much promise for becoming an attractive woman, if one could get past the solid blackness of her eyes.