Teaching i need, learning on my own, I begin.

[Gotten]

Time stamp spring 62

Gotten felt the music passing through his skin and into his bones. The pulse, the rhythm danced and poured through his blood. The song was in some ways his heart. The bow in his hands became like air, each shot a breath. In with the draw; and the arrow released with the out. Only the sound of the arrows sinking into the straw dummy filled the room and the beats of Gottens’ heart were in his ear. His gaze didn’t dance across the room, nor did any muscle move save those he used to pull the arrow, draw it and release. Deep in these dark hours between when men and bird slept Gotten worked.

He wasn’t alone; there was always some form of guards. But because the vast number of people slept it seemed as if the city was empty. He’d been working on his bow skills for almost an hour now when he decided he could put it off little longer and should quit the bow work now. Unstringing his bow he stopped and began to gather his spent arrows. Once each of them was carefully in his grip he moved to the table at the end of the room and laid them out. Slowly one by one he inspected the shafts to see if any had split, if the fletching had come loose or if the head had. Two shafts had to be replaced and fourteen needed to be re-fletched. Gathering his tools Gotten set to work.

After the last one had been set to dry, Gotten started on the arrows that had been fine and began to sharpen each head, preparing them. One thing he’d had drilled into his head over and over was that gear that was not looked after ended up failing when you needed it most. Finally everything was dealt with and standing with a stretch Gotten bundled the arrows into sets of twenty. And taking the bundles he set them back into his backpack. He put out the different lamps around the room and settled into the book he’d been avoiding at the table.

Setting himself at the table he pulled the small candle that was still lit close and opened the book’s cover. It was a guide to Falconry, written for those usually much younger than him. Part of that was why he had avoided it for as long as could. Now as he settled into read the book he booked those thoughts up and focused on the task before him. As his eyes read the words, his lips moved silently mouthing the words he saw, echoing the teaching and helping to memorize the teaching that would make him more skilled at the task he’d set himself.

It was hours later when the book slid from his fingers to land on the floor. It had been reread twice and had been on the third time through, but Gotten didn’t pick it up. Somewhere between sentences he’d slid into sleep. And now he dreamed what he’d been reading. The candle flickered over the form of the sleeping man, and would shortly gut itself out. But for now it cast a warm yellow light over the sleeper. Than the flame was gone, darkness covered all, and the sleeper dreamed on.