Saethydd stood coldly, and belted the quiver across his chest. He alwasy felt naked without the tight feeling of the strap across his frame.

"Oh, come off it, Saeth," Gretch also stood and walked closer to Saethydd, "We lived, and isn't that enough?"

"Gretch, you didn't test your wire, and when you showed me how good your rekhora frame was. It snapped the damn wire and nearly killed the two of us."

"Saethydd, I was the one who saved you, remember?" The cold blue of Gretch's eyes became even more pronounced.

"Gretch, shut up."

Gretch walked away from Saethydd, uttering not a word. Saethydd's hand instinctively reached over to the barely visible scar on his neck. So young, he thought, thinking about Gretch and himself, how could we have known?

Shaking his head, he nocked an arrow and raised his bow. He drew the string tight, and felt the fletching of the soft feathers on his arrow tickle his cheeck in two places. He released. The arrow launched itself from it's home, propelled by the strong frame. It sped across the 50 yards of space in seemingly no time and slammed into the thatched target, barely missing the heart painted on. Saethydd drew again, glancing down the smooth wood of the arrow straight to its rekhoran head. He released again.

The almost overwhelming din quieted instantly. Saethydd was more preoccupied with the arrow. It simply stood in the air, as if being restrained. A hand rested on his shoulder.

"Saethydd..." The voice whispered, and Saethydd swung his head, swinging his bow along with him. Or trying to. The frame resisted in the air, budging about as much as the arrow that had still not left the frame.

"Saethydd..." the voice whispered once more, soft and beckoning, and his gaze fell upon a man in black robes seated in the bar area of the range. The eyes that peered from the hood were green and menacing, and a pale, thin white hand raised up. It extended a finger at Saethydd, almost as if accusing him of something, then it overturned and beckoned him to come. He let go of his bow and walked mindlessly to the seated figure. The eyes glowed with promises to come.

The world snapped back into normal, and the bow and arrow, abandoned, sat in the air for an instant before falling behind him. Not that Saethudd was looking at his bow, for the speaker had vanished before his eyes, and Saethydd had lost sight of him. Saethydd spun and managed to catch a quick glimpse of a reflection off of the bright grey of the arrowhead as it disappeared over the fence. He looked about quickly, and realizing that nobody was watching him, he walked over to his bow and retrieved it. As he raised his bow again, he realized he was shaking and cursed silently. He lowered the bow and walked unsteadily over to a bench, which was really just a log split lengthwise sitting on two stumps, where he sat down heavily. Skyla left the booth to the silent trolls and walked over to him.

"What was that?" she asked, her green eyes opened wide and voice trembling. She unconsciously brushed a strand of fiery hair away, out of her sight.

"I-I don't know..." Saethydd looked up at her, his eyes imploring, his own voice weak in his throat, "Did - did you seem him?"