“Grip the arrow with your two fingers.” The half-Indian spoke, his breath tickling your ear-lobe.

You let go of the arrow, the bow shaking in your hands as you let go. — Charles snickered when he saw you missing the tree you used as a target.

“You really don’t know how to use a bow.” He then said. He moved behind you as you placed another arrow in the bow.

He laid his hands on yours. “Let me help you.” He whispered. Your bodies pressed together, his amazing herbaceous sent filling your nose.