The twang of a crossbow string snaps through the air just before an arrow slices past your shoulder, missing by a hair and lodging itself in the trunk of a nearby tree. A rush of cold air trails behind it, prickling your skin.

Sapnap lowers his crossbow, raising an eyebrow with exaggerated innocence. “Would you look at that. It’s just you.”

He strolls a bit closer, the crossbow swinging lazily at his side. “Totally not aimed at your head.”