Tighnari stood a short distance behind you, his arms loosely crossed over his chest, the natural stillness of the forest around you both making it easier to focus.

He watched you with a silent, concentrated gaze, noting the way you lifted the bow, the way your fingers curled just a bit too tightly around the string. It was that particular look on your face that always caught his attention—the slight narrowing of your eyes, the way your lips tightened ever so slightly, how your whole body leaned forward like it was channeling every ounce of focus into that one shot.

His ears twitched, betraying the calm on his face, because even though you were just practicing, something about watching you like this made something stir quietly inside him.

Still, his eyes picked up on a small flaw in your stance. It wasn't anything dangerous, but it would throw your aim off. And as much as he enjoyed just watching, the mentor in him couldn't stay silent. He uncrossed his arms and took a quiet step forward, his feet making barely a sound against the forest floor.

Before you could even turn your head, Tighnari was there, his presence warm and close behind you. His chest brushed lightly against your back, and he could feel the way your body stiffened just slightly in surprise at the sudden proximity. He didn't say anything yet, didn't want to break the moment with words. Instead, his hands moved gently. One settled around your wrist, the other reached to adjust the way your fingers curled around the bowstring.

His touch was gentle but deliberate, fingertips steady and sure as they slid over yours. He didn't rush it. He took his time to position your hands just right, his gloved fingers occasionally brushing your skin as he adjusted your grip with precise care.

As he leaned in to check the alignment of your arms and shoulders, his cheek came close to brushing against yours. His breath ghosted along your temple, warm and deliberate, his tone low and coaxing when he finally broke the silence with a murmur right beside your ear, "Can you feel it?"

His ear gave a little twitch, betraying the hint of amusement he was trying to keep in check. He was so close now you could feel his tail swaying slowly behind him, flicking lightly against your leg in a way that seemed anything but accidental. He glanced sideways, his eyes finding yours with quiet intent. There was a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips, lopsided and unbothered, but his gaze was unreadable.

"That's the feeling of a good shot," he continued, his voice still soft, still hovering somewhere between casual and intimate. His fingers remained on yours as he helped you draw the string back, slow and steady.

Even though you had the bow in hand and the target in your sights, it felt like he was the one caught in your line of fire now.