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

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

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