27th of Fall, 510AV The days passing her adventure with Jaeden and Red had been lacking in excitement or companionship, and Aella found herself rather happy with that fact. Distancing herself, she’d set up camp along with some traps, and hunkered down to rest her injured leg. She slept. She ate what food she gathered or had. Generally she tried to ignore the sinking feeling that maybe she was more miserable alone than she’d originally led herself to believe. Instead she decided she needed to practice her archery skills, because shooting the people trying to help you didn’t tend to make their jobs easier. Plus it wouldn’t hinder her healing. She stood across her campsite from a tree she’d worked an X into. Bow in hand, she took her time paying close attention to what she was doing. First came standing properly. She looked down, scooting her right foot a little until it was in line with her left. Swaying, she checked herself for balance, and finding herself centered she moved to take an arrowhead and trace around her feet like Imman used to do for her. That way she could watch her stance consistency. Next she carefully put the nock of her arrow onto the bowstring. She used the same motions she tried to when rushing, thinking it would gain her better ability to nock quickly. Placing it just under her balance knot, she then let the shaft of the arrow drop onto the rest on her bow. “This is where you always mess up,” she mumbled under her breath. Her index finger was placed above the arrow nock, and she moved to put her middle and ring beneath it. Closing her eyes so she could focus on what it felt like, she shifted her fingers along until her first knuckles were cradling the string. She looked at what she was doing, giving a little scowl. She was pinching the arrow, and with a little wiggle she saw to it that she was no longer touching the nock. She flattened the back of her hand and tucked her thumb into her palm. After fidgeting and fussing, she finally gave the string a tiny pull to set her position to draw. Turning her attention to her bow hand, she checked to make sure that the base of her thumb muscle was resting on the center of her grip – The pressure would all go onto that muscle and into her wrist if held properly. She wiggled her thumb and fingers to make sure they were relaxed, and then she curled them around to touching the bow so when she released it wouldn’t go falling from her hand. She’d done that on more than one occasion while learning. The next part she did even more slowly than the rest, trying to force her body to completely memorize what every tiny motion felt like. She raised her bow arm and drawing arm up at the same time. The latter was kept high in the elbow but low in the shoulder. From there she tightened her back muscles to pull her elbow back, drawing her arm backwards in one smooth motion. Her drawing hand then was resting against her jaw, but upon further inspection she was meeting the string more than it meeting her. She pulled her head and hand back so that her neck was held straight. The art of it was to remember to push equally with the bow hand while pulling with the drawing hand to establish balance – Archery, she’d found, was all about balance. Then came what Imman used to call the Anchor where her hand was on her jaw and the bowstring was touching her face. It used to scare her for some reason, but she grew used to it over time. Index finger to the jaw. Tucked thumb to the neck. String touching the nose. This was the trick to maintaining the force of the bow with each draw. She stood there trying to decide if the draw felt right or if something was off about it. She was pretty sure something was wrong, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what. |