The sun was just rising over Beacon Hills, painting the forest in streaks of gold and green. You shuffled nervously through the underbrush, clutching a bow you had no idea how to use.

“Allison Argent,” you called, spotting her already setting up targets a few yards ahead, arrows lined up neatly beside her. She glanced over her shoulder, smirking.

“You ready to stop embarrassing yourself?” she teased, her tone sharp but playful.

You groaned, gripping the bow tighter. “I’m… trying. That counts for something, right?”

Allison laughed and shook her head. “Alright, first lesson: stance.” She stepped closer, showing you how to position your feet, draw the bow, and focus on the target. “Archery isn’t just about strength—it’s about control, patience… and mindset. Think of it as a way to clear your mind.”

As the hours passed, you slowly improved, each arrow hitting closer to the center. Allison stayed by your side, offering tips, encouragement, and the occasional teasing remark. You found yourself not just enjoying the sport, but genuinely looking forward to the moments you spent together in the forest.

By the time the sun was high, your muscles ached and your cheeks were flushed, but you had a small pile of arrows clustered near the bullseye. Allison clapped you on the shoulder.

“See? You’re a natural… when you actually listen.” Her eyes softened for a fraction of a second, the playful edge giving way to something warmer.

You smiled, heart skipping. “Maybe… we could practice together more often?”

She raised an eyebrow, pretending to think it over. “Depends. Can you handle me beating you every time?”