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“Brae, have you ever actually used a bow before?”
“Once or twice,” Braeden replies casually, picking up one of Allison’s compound bows, which are neatly lined up in a row on an old tarp. "They were crossbows though." She runs her fingers over the bow's sleek frame for a few moments before bringing it up to her shoulder. To a casual observer, it may look like she’s holding the bow correctly but while the general idea is there, the details are wrong. Her shoulders are too close to her ears and there's not nearly enough flex in her bow arm. Before she can reach for an arrow, Allison puts down her throwing knives and crosses the clearing.
“May I?” Braeden nods and Allison steps even closer, until her chest is fitted against Braeden’s back. She slowly adjusts Braeden’s position, lowering her shoulders, pulling her elbow back and gently nudging one foot in front of the other until they're shoulder width apart.
“There,” she murmurs, craning up to press a kiss to Braeden’s cheek. She crouches down and picks up one of her brand new arrows, which were a belated birthday present from Braeden. She slots it into the right spot and watches as Braeden pulls it back. She only has to make a few more adjustments before everything is perfect.
“Now, aim for the target,” she says, stepping away from Braeden and gazing towards the crude bullseye pinned to a tree on the other side of the clearing. Braeden takes her time sighting her shot; she takes a deep breath and narrows her eyes, adjusts her fingertips slightly on the bow’s slightly grooved string. When she finally releases the string, the arrow shoots through the air, streaking across the clearing in the blink of an eye.
It flies right past the bullseye and disappears into the trees.
Braeden lowers her arms and glares at the bow, like she’s willing it to burst into flames. A laugh escapes Allison’s mouth, but she tries to cover it up as a cough.
Based on the way Braeden’s expression further darkens, it doesn’t work.
“I have an idea,” Allison says. “I’ll teach you how to use my bows if you teach me the best way to use a shotgun without breaking my own nose.”
“Deal,” Braeden says, her glower slowly turning into a small smile. “But I’m not going to find that arrow.”
“Fine. But I expect a kiss when I get back.”
"I'm sure I can arrange that."