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Her eyes stayed upon her target for a moment, before her tunnel-vision expanded to see the target next to hers. Rick's three bull's-eyes, now just a gigantic hole in the center of the target, were second. How? She did the math three times, counting on her fingers. He scored forty-eight. She scored sixty-two. He had three bull's-eyes. She had none. How? She looked at third place. Forty-one with a miss. She could tell there was a miss because, at the bottom where there were twelve boxes, only seven were filled. On the target itself, three arrows were just barely against the bull's-eye, two in the yellow circle, and the rest were in the black. But all the arrows were in different places. On her target, just her first arrow was the weird one. The others were all neatly placed on the upper-half of the target where they hit. The next target down, fourth place, had a score of thirty. They had missed once also, and while there was one hole that could have been a bull's-eye or a nine either way, counted as a nine, the other holes were like the archer had closed their recessive eye; there was no rhyme or reason where the holes were punched. John-James's target came in fifth. He had twenty-eight points, a miss, and his highest hit was a lucky seven. The rest were everywhere; in fact she remembered looking at his target before the arrows were pulled. They were stuck like he was trying to help the clothes-pins hold the target up rather than hit the middle. And beyond that... she felt a little bad. Everyone below J.J. had low scores, their holes shying farther and farther away from the red dot at the center like it was lava. You're looking at it too narrow again. "Huh?" She asked, hearing her brother's voice. "Hm?" He looked down at her. "What'd you say?" "I didn't say anything." The moment was interrupted as Mrs. Kiminy once again returned to the forefront of the audience's attention. "Congratulations to those who made it to the next round." She said with a smile, and Lyza felt the ewe's eyes glance to her for the splittest of seconds. "Without further ado, let's go onto the next set, shall we?" "Good luck." Lyza said, before Mrs. Kiminy even began calling names. "Thanks, Robin Hood," he said tenderly, rubbing her head. Suddenly she felt a twinge. Was he calling her that because other people were, or did he just come up with that himself? It was getting a bit annoying. "Please don't call me that." She said. "Fair enough," he replied. "But maybe it's not such a bad thing to be called. Wasn't Robin Hood good at archery?" "Well, yeah, but--" "Kval," Mrs. Kiminy called, and without hesitation the elder Alatyrtsev stood. "Hold that thought," he said, walking up to get his target. Lyza watched as her brother, fumbling with the clothespins, hung his target. He was the fourth one in the line, kind of far away, but if she squinted she could just make out his target. He casually walked over to the bow, and slipped on the armguard. Lyza once again looked over her target. The thoughts of having to face her brother in the finals returned. She worried about any scenario. What if he lost now? What if he never made it to the finals? What if he did? Would he lose on purpose? If he did she would be so mad. But what if he didn't and he was better than her? She would feel awful and he would be such a jerk, she was trying to be good at this. But what if he wasn't good. She'd feel awful showing him up. ...Why did they both have to enter? "Fire when ready!" Mrs. Kiminy instructed. Kval let his arrow fly. Lyza winced. It fell below the target and landed in the score-boxes. "Sdelat? eto, brat..." she whispered. He let another arrow fly, and all she could tell was that it hit the black. She gritted her teeth. But all the while he just stood, almost like a zombie. Nock the arrow, aim, fire. Nock the arrow, aim, fire. Did he even know what he was doing? Was he doing this on purpose? He promised her he wouldn't flunk on purpose! His sixth arrow hit the middle. Was it a bull's-eye or a nine? She couldn't tell. Arrow seven hit just outside the yellow. Arrow eight was a clear bull's-eye. She didn't even have to squint to tell; there was no doubt it blinded the bull, sticking straight out like he had walked up and just pushed it in by hand. He was not the last to finish, so he set his bow down and looked back to her, giving a smile. She used the last moment of the round to look at the other kids' targets. The ones past Kval she couldn't hope to see, but the three closer ones she could make out. None of them had bull's-eyes. Heck, their targets looked like J.J.'s, arrows sticking out at various angles and stuck in a hodge-podge. One arrow had even fallen a little and was now awkwardly hanging out of the first target like it was drunk. "You didn't mess up on purpose, did you?" "Not gonna give me a break at all are ya?" Kval asked as he sat down. "It's not like you ran a race," she jabbed him in the belly. "So you didn't, right?" "I did my best," he replied with a nod. "It was tricky cuz of the wind. I think it's starting to pick up--look at those clouds." Lyza followed his pointed finger. The clouds over the low hills at the back of the valley were black as night. Like a train was spewing smoke out of its stack somewhere out of sight. "I think it might storm later... There might not be a campfire tonight after all." The rest of the wait was quiet between the two. Even the boys behind them didn't make much of a conversation, other than the wolf talking about how his fingers hurt. Lyza idly rubbed her middle and index finger. In the crook of them her fur had been rubbed raw, the soft under-skin exposed just a little. She hadn't noticed that before. Would anyone else, when she got back? Hopefully the fur grew back before she started school... or maybe not. Maybe she could use the marks as proof she actually shot a bow... Mr. Carlyon did the process again, taking down the old targets. He called the people to go up and get them. All of the kids eagerly hopped out of their seats. "He means you, sis." Hesitantly, Lyza started to slide off the seat, but stopped. "Is the ground lava?" He asked with a chuckle. "No...just..." Before she could tell him she didn't know why she wasn't stepping up, he stood and went to the table. He gently took her target in his hands and sat back down beside her, laying it across her lap so that it faced her, like it was a silver platter adorned with lavish items. But even as she idly placed her hand the keep the target from blowing away in the wind, she watched Mr. Carlyon put the targets up on the board. She didn't know anyone here except for the wolf, but her brother's target got put up before his. The elder brother scored a thirty-three. One miss, one bull's-eye, the ambiguous hole deemed a nine, and the rest were in the black. And yet he was in fourth place. First, second and third only beat him by at most ten points. In fact, third only beat him by two, having gotten one more three than he did. Two more targets were placed, neither of which were the wolf's, and then his was put up. "Oh that's bullshit." The group behind her snapped. "Someone cheated. You're better than that, Den-Den." "Russ. Don't call me Den-Den, kay?" Serves you guys right for being such jerks, Lyza thought. During the next set, Lyza found herself wondering off in her thoughts. She looked down at the target in her lap. Near bull's-eyes clustered around the little red dot like stars around the moon. The range whistled as the arrows flew. Seven bows twanged and warbled as their strings snapped. The impact against the hay was carried by the increasing wind. It blew from two directions: behind the archers, and from the right. It disturbed the arrows' flight, making their aim unpredictable at best. Lyza felt the wind on the tips of her ears. The archers took much more time, even though there were fewer. Now that they had warmed up a bit, they were determined to do better this round. The person closest was doing fairly well, hitting everything at least in the yellow, sometimes in the blue. The set came to an end. Russel, the bear, stomped back to the bench like hot stuff. "Two dings," he stated, and got hi-fives from his friends. "Bet if you didn't have that wind you'd get more," J.J. said encouragingly. "No shit, Sherlock." Russel replied back. "You gotta up your game Little J." The bobcat taunted. "It's gonna rain tonight. Don't wanna have to sleep in the mud, do ya?" Lyza clenched her fists. The targets were displayed. As Kval sat back down with his own target in hand, he saw that Russel kid had moved up a place in the ranks. It looked like his sister might have some competition. He worried a little, wondering what would happen if she lost. He would rather worry about that...than worry about the other things his mind kept reminding him of. Speaking of his sister, she handed him her target in preparation for her next set. She chewed on her lip, and her thumb flicked the up-synched Velcro strap on her shoe. He resisted the urge to pat her shoulder; it would probably just embarrass her. The name was called. His sister hopped off the bench with a step more ginger than fresh-baked bread. She was the first one up, and she took the first spot on the range. Obediently she waited by her bow until all other archers were ready, continually staring at the target, as if speaking to it telepathically. She followed the instructions to the letter, her posture and movements sharp and precise. He could tell she was in the zone. Her first shot left without the dramatic twang of the string; it, too, was precisely the right amount of twangy-ness. Seven points. She pulled the next arrow, and shot. Six points. Lyza blinked and wiped the water from her eyes. She made doubly sure she could see the target just fine. She grabbed the third arrow. She nocked it and aimed. Before she fired, before she even pulled back on the string, she waited. The wind tickled the tips of her ears. She moved the muscles at the base of her skull, jutting one ear forward, and twisting the other ear back. The wind blew again, and she adjusted her aim, pulled. She let the wind blow again, adjusted, and fired. Nine points. She pulled the next arrow without scraping it against the others. She nocked and pulled the string in one smooth motion, the act now second-nature. The wind blew again. She adjusted. Fired. Nine more points. Shoot for the moon. For even if you miss, you will land amongst the stars. Her shirt rippled as the wind blew fiercely. An arrow was pushed way out of line and it flew past the bale of hay. Lyza saw that it was Rick's arrow. She looked at his target. It was considerably different from last time. He didn't have an arrow in the blue at all, and only one in the yellow. Kval kept counting the points in his head. She was at thirty-one now. The next arrow, thirty-nine. Forty-seven. Lyza felt no frustration this time. Again, she danced around that little red dot. But this time it wasn't like it was taunting her, making her feel like she couldn't hit it no matter how hard she tried. She wasn't trying to hit it--at least, not to the point where if she missed she felt devastated. In her trance, she forgot to check the wind. Her arrow was pushed to the left too far and she hit the three. She shook her head. She wouldn't let that happen again. With her last arrow, she closed her eyes. That narrow dot. So narrow. Too narrow. Why did she have to aim for something so small? Why not aim for something bigger. Just get it in the blue. Up just a tad, the wind is gonna blow so move it right... right about there. Twang. She listened to it sink into the hay, and then opened her eyes. Nine points. When she set her bow down, she was the last one finished. Mrs. Kiminy called them in, and she sat by her brother quietly once more. "I could swear your eyes were closed on that last one." He said. She shook her head. "Just closed my bad eye." She white-lied. "I still have more bull's-eyes than you." He said with a smug grin. "That'll change." She stated absently. "Maybe, but I think you'd better watch your confidence, there." She glanced at the targets on the tac board. Hers was in front, obviously. But at fifty-nine points, she had done worse than last time. Or had she? Again she looked at the other targets and noticed how much more...clustered her arrows had been. This time, Rick was in third place. The other archer-girl was in second. Lyza looked around to try and find her; she sat behind her two benches removed, short legs kicking back and forth. "Guess who gets to sleep outside tonight?" "Aw c'mon guys...the wind was blowing..." "Want some cheese with that whine?" "J.J., you got beat by Robin Hood and some other girl. You deserve to sleep outside." "So did Ricky!" "Yeah but Ricky doesn't suck." Lyza clenched her fist again. She was going to show those boys. They were all going to lose. Her brother was called up. Kval thanked the ewe as he took his target. It was starting to get rather cold and windy out again. The clouds overhead began to get darker and darker. But they were still not quite over their heads. He pulled on the wrist guard. It was funny, it looked a little bit like the cast his little sister had to wear. He paused, his fingers letting the strap he was pulling go limp. Why did that pop into his head? Pushing it away, he tightened the strap comfortably. He rolled his right arm, the shoulder beginning to ache. He wondered how his sister did this; her arm must be sore to the bone. The crook of his shoulder began to hurt, too, the old impact-ache from the shotgun was beginning to flare up. But there wasn't much time to deal with that before Mrs. Kiminy instructed him to pick up his bow and nock his arrow. He fired it, hitting the third ring. His arm felt speared from the shot, though. Flexing his hand a few times to relax it, he pulled the next arrow. The wind was really tough to handle. How the heck did his sister pull that stunt off? He fired again, this time getting a nice six points. Idly he looked at the quiver, and pulled the next arrow out. He watched as he nocked it, having a bit of trouble because this arrow seemed to have had the notches on the inside rubbed away a little bit. But he finally got it to stay and then looked ahead. He squinted. That was weird. There was fog again? He looked over to Mrs. Kiminy, who stood near the audience and watched all the participants. Shouldn't she call off the shot? ...Maybe not. If she needed to she would have already. He fired, the fog distorting where exactly he got the points. Looked like a four, maybe a five. As he fired more and more arrows the fog started getting thicker. Again, he looked at Mrs. Kiminy. Surely this was too thick for anyone to see in. He had almost more than perfect vision and he was having trouble seeing through this. The seventh arrow landed somewhere in the black. But at this point the entire target looked black. Shaking his head, he retrieved the last arrow. This was getting silly. He would have to talk to the ewe after he was done; how could they be holding a tournament in fog? He pulled back on the arrow and tried to aim as best he could. But something... something was in the way. Or was it? He squinted. No, it was just the hay bale, it looked distorted. He hesitated, though. The fingers holding the string didn't want to fire.

_ How much for three bags? Three hundred, duh. Oh...all I have is two-fifty... That'll get ya two. O-okay...I'll get two... What're you lookin' back there for? N-nothing. You don't got cops watchin' ya do ya? No man, of course not. Here. ... This is one-fitty. You said you had two-fitty. You tryin' to pull one? No! Honest... There ya go lookin' back again. I--_ Kval heard the sound of sirens. His fingers let go of the string. Instead of the normal reverberation of twine, his ears were deafened by a gunshot. The arrow flew fast as a bullet through the air, and the fog blew just enough to show the shocked face of a boy just out of middle school. His eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell over, lifeless.