Alela Grora brushed off her bow, dispelling the dust that had accumulated over time. It had been ages since she’d taken up the weapon, and its state reflected her neglect. Determined to remedy that, she stepped outside, eager for some target practice. Scanning her surroundings, she quickly found the perfect spot to set up her own impromptu archery range. Once everything was ready, Grora nocked an arrow to the string, her gaze zeroing in on the distant target.

As she tried to steady her aim, her hands trembled, betraying her uncertainty. Just at that moment, Wodahs strolled by and caught sight of her struggle. He felt a mix of concern and intrigue; there was something admirable about her relentless spirit, even if her form was far from perfect. Wodahs watched Grora carefully, torn between the urge to intervene and respect for her determination. With a deep breath, Grora released the bowstring. The arrow soared off course, missing the target entirely and narrowly avoiding her. Frustration flared within her as she set down the bow, reached for another arrow, and prepared for another attempt. A heavy sigh escaped her lips; self-doubt crept in despite her resolve. Yet, her gaze remained locked on that target, fierce and unwavering. Gritting her teeth, she lifted the bow once more.

Suddenly, Wodahs appeared by her side. He quickly adjusted her stance, steadying her shaky limbs with a gentle yet firm touch. Caught off guard, Grora turned her head, a mix of surprise and irritation flashing across her face. “I haven’t seen you use this old thing in years…” he murmured, almost to himself, as his gloved hands guided her into position. As she drew back the bowstring, Wodahs leaned closer, his voice soft in her ear. “Keep breathing.”