It was a crisp, quiet, cool August day. Clouds had overtaken the sky and given everything a dull grey look. There was, however, no wind, which gave Ambrose the perfect excuse to go to the sports field and practice his aim.
Walking down to the sports field, Ambrose spied out an average compound bow, a few quivers of arrows, and some targets. This was perfect. He drug the targets across the field, smaller towards the back, larger towards the front. He would most likely need warm up shots anyways. He paced backwards, until the targets were at normal range, then took a few more steps back. He shed his coat, leaving him in a t-shirt. The last thing he wanted was for his sleeves to catch the arrow, or get tangled in the bow.
Having done that, he would notch an arrow, pull it back, take in a deep breath, and let it fly. A satisfying noise was sent through the air as the arrow swiftly split it, and landed in the closest target, just off the bullseye. After a few more warm up shots, Ambrose got confident. So, naturally, he got cocky as well.
He would take a few more steps back, and notch another arrow, pulling the string back and breathing in heavily. He would take aim and close his eyes, letting go of the arrow. After hearing the resounding 'thud' of the arrow planting itself deep in the target, Ambrose opened his eyes. He smiled, admiring his handiwork. Farthest target, bullseye. Happy with his accuracy, he would proceed to take a few more shots at random targets.
Walking down to the sports field, Ambrose spied out an average compound bow, a few quivers of arrows, and some targets. This was perfect. He drug the targets across the field, smaller towards the back, larger towards the front. He would most likely need warm up shots anyways. He paced backwards, until the targets were at normal range, then took a few more steps back. He shed his coat, leaving him in a t-shirt. The last thing he wanted was for his sleeves to catch the arrow, or get tangled in the bow.
Having done that, he would notch an arrow, pull it back, take in a deep breath, and let it fly. A satisfying noise was sent through the air as the arrow swiftly split it, and landed in the closest target, just off the bullseye. After a few more warm up shots, Ambrose got confident. So, naturally, he got cocky as well.
He would take a few more steps back, and notch another arrow, pulling the string back and breathing in heavily. He would take aim and close his eyes, letting go of the arrow. After hearing the resounding 'thud' of the arrow planting itself deep in the target, Ambrose opened his eyes. He smiled, admiring his handiwork. Farthest target, bullseye. Happy with his accuracy, he would proceed to take a few more shots at random targets.