Mac grimaced. His intended target saw the arrow snap into the tree a few feet from it, and took off into the foliage. He sat back. There went dinner. He looked to his friend with a sheepish, apologetic smile.

“Look, when I said I was great with a bow… I’ve kinda never actually held one before. I just wanted to get out of camp — we’ve been cooped up there so long….”

It was a miracle that he had been allowed to go off into woods in the first place, what with his father being so protective. But he had managed to join the hunting teams. With a few... little white lies, of course.