Beck was a surprisingly bad shot.

He had thought he was good after the shots he'd landed on the Grim Riders, but since he'd started training with Zephyr, he hadn't hit any of the targets they had set up. Granted, they were significantly farther than he had been back then, but they also didn't move.

"The crabs won't hold still for ya, boy. How you gonna hit one 'a 'em if you can't hit these?" Zephyr himself was sat to the side, berating the young man with every missed shot. The man had yet to do anything else, and Beck was starting to wonder why he had been chosen as his teacher.

After a few more missed shots, Zephyr was suddenly behind him, causing him to jump and almost drop the crossbow. Beck turned to the older man, who cuffed him on the shoulder. "You really are Wyatt's kid, huh? Your stance is all wrong. You're rushing. And by the Angels, boy, you're jerkin the damn trigger." He grabbed the weapon from Beck, "Watch me now."

Zephyr planted his feet shoulder width apart, left heel in line with the toes of his right. He took in a slow breath, then began to exhale. Beck was only barely able to make out the slow pull of the trigger, until the breath fully left the thing man's nose.

Then, the bolt was loosed. It slammed into the bullseye on the target, a piece of junk chitin affixed to a wood and grass construction, burying itself halfway into the shell.

Beck's jaw hung open, and for a moment he just stared at it. Zephyr thrust the crossbow back into his arms, said, "Your turn," then went back to where he was sitting.

His attention returned to his weapon, at which point he drew another bolt from the case on his hip and began the process of loading it in. His arms were still burning from his activities that morning, but it wasn't enough to stop just yet.

Beck raised the crossbow once more, taking the stance he was shown. The dot in the scope lined up with the bullseye, just like every time before. This time, though, his arms were shaking. He took a slow, deep breath, and felt his arms steady a bit. He heard Zephyr, "Squeeze the trigger. Don't rush."

He did as he was instructed, squeezing ever so slowly, until the mechanism clicked and the bolt was launched from his weapon. It buried itself deep into the woven grass of the target, sitting on the edge of the construct. Too far down and to the right, but he had finally hit the target.

He felt Zephyr's hand on his shoulder, and turned his head to his new teacher. The older man gave him a smile. "We'll make a hunter out of you yet, boy. Now go, get your bolts. Practice on your own. Find me when you can hit the bullseye."

Beck did as he was told, going and collecting his spent ammunition. Once he had gathered and returned his bolts to their carrying case, he returned to where he had been standing and once more took up the stance he had been shown.

This time, the bolt came much closer, a full hand's width. The more bolts he sent into the target, the more he noticed the difference between how he had been shooting with Zephyr present compared to now. The bolts had deviated farther from their intended course, had dropped quicker.

Part of it could be attributed to his improper stance earlier, but that didn't account for the fact that they seemed to fly farther than before. Now, he was consistently hitting the target, though he was often hitting random spots about a hand's width from the bullseye.

Every few minutes, he would have to go up to the target to retrieve his quarrels. Otherwise, though, he spent the entire afternoon shooting at the target, trying to better his aim. After the sun set, he gathered the bolts one last time, then returned to his tent.

Beck returned his crossbow and bolts to where they had been when he awoke, then rolled onto the bedroll he had been given. Laying there, staring up at the top of his tent, he was acutely aware of every ache in his body. His arms burned, his entire torso aching from the day's exertion.

He realized that he hadn't actually looked over his parameters since he started growing. Mentally calling on the System, he quickly found the section where his parameters were laid out.

Strength Dexterity Constitution Intelligence Wisdom Charisma 11 13 13 10 13 10

It was impressive compared to what it had been. Before, his only parameter above ten had been Constitution, which was something all Elementaren got at birth, and Wisdom, from when he unlocked [Shape Water]. Now, with his growth, he was starting to get somewhere.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Dumping his free points into Dexterity had been a desperate move, but... He felt it would work out in his favor. Now he had three parameters over 12, a Skill at level three, and, most importantly, direction.

With that done, he drifted into himself, the world outside falling away as he came to where his well stood. He had built the little thing after seeing it in a picture book when he was young, but now, he knew it was wrong. It was stifling him.

So he started to take it apart. Whenever he released a part he had ripped from the structure, it dissipated into nothing. The stones melted away one by one as he tore at them with his hands. He debated leaving the wooden supports, but could think of no way to use them.

All that remained after he was done was a fissure in the earth, wide enough to fit his arm into.

His Skills felt more... Present. [Shape Water], as his only active and highest leveled Skill, produced the greatest tug at his consciousness. The only issue was that he had no clue were to go from there. It was frustrating, how little anyone taught their children about the System.

He resolved to ask around later. Maybe Chief Kennet would be able to offer him some guidance, assuming he wasn't busy with chief... things. Beck was beginning to realize just how little he knew about how things worked outside Sandwood.

After a few minutes more without an epiphany, he sighed and came back to the outside world.

----------------------------------------

Kenna watched as the newest addition to their camp emerged from his tent, still carrying his father's kap'ts. Her father had brought the funny boy to her right before he went to Magir, and she almost hadn't been able to save him. He was tough, though. For a townie. He looked no older than sixteen, though her father said that he was born mere weeks after her. The baby fat, the small frame. The lanky boy still had a lot of growing to do. He only came up to her chin at his tallest!

She had met his father, and he was much closer to their family's size, almost able to stand eye to eye with her own father. She'd have assumed elf blood, with the boy so skinny, but his ears were much too round for it.

Whatever the case, he was fun to watch. The smallest things set him blushing or stuttering, but in the short time she had known him, he had proved to be a diligent student, if nothing else.

She couldn't wait to see how Zephyr whipped him into shape.

But for now, it was dinner time. And Kenna was still growing, even if she wouldn't be for much longer. She was almost as tall as Father! And after the First Hunt was finished, she would go on her own adventure.

First, though... A little fun never hurt.

----------------------------------------

Beck took his first bite of tonight's meal, a bowl of minced meat from prairie rodents that some of the children had trapped that morning. Then promptly ran to the nearest barrel of water.

His head felt like it had caught fire, but even after he immersed himself, it didn't stop. His tongue had gone numb halfway to the thing, and he could hear laughter from where he had been a moment ago.

He pulled his head from the barrel, his hair looking like seaweed the way it hung. His breath came in large gulps, though each one only served to fan the flames in his mouth. Someone came over and stuck their hand in his mouth.

It turned out to be Kenna, who smeared some kind of paste on his tongue and cheeks. The burning stopped almost immediately, and he swallowed once she told him it was alright. His breath was still ragged as he returned to his seat.

Kenna swapped bowls with him, a grin plastered on her face. His new bowl left much less heat in his mouth, merely pleasantly spicy as opposed to whatever was in the other one.

Kenna was making appreciative noises as she ate, though, so he supposed she was enjoying it.

Beck's eyes were still watering and his nose was still running well after they finished eating, and he only managed to get it to stop while the grandparents of the tribe were telling stories from their youth. The stories ranged from particularly successful hunts to raids from the Grim Riders, to the time one of the young hunters had bumbled into a Precursor Ruin.

All of the children were sure the last one was a cautionary tale ending in the hunter's demise, as was Beck, until the old man telling it clapped the Chief on the shoulder. "And this fool managed to make it back alive!"

Chief Kennet grumbled, "With nothing to show for it but scars, mind." The old-timer just laughed and smacked the large man's back a few times while Beck and the kids gaped at them.

The night wound down after that. More stories were told, but none topped the Chief's. Dishes were cleaned, animals were fed, and people returned to their tents. Some would stay out to stand watch, or simply stargaze. But Beck was ready to sleep.

----------------------------------------

A week passed. His mornings were spent learning to do things the Kode way, from crossbow maintenance to first aid, something he had done often with Ma. Same here as back home, it was mostly patching up kids and dumb adults who managed to hurt themselves in a variety of ways.

His afternoons were spent training with the crossbow. Zephyr's training was tough, and recently he'd added a cactus tied to a pole and swinging from the rope. It was supposed to simulate a crab's leg in motion, so they could better immobilize one during their hunt.

Beck was soon joined by children nearing their Awakening Day. Zephyr's son, Tephra, was the youngest there, and already shooting better than any of his peers. Or Beck. He was likely the worst shot out of the group, as much as it hurt to admit.

At the end of that week, though, Beck was finally rewarded.

You have learned the Skill [Longarms]! +1 to Dexterity Crossbows and rifles aren't all that different, one's just got a lot more kick. Increases accuracy with Longarms

He smiled to himself when he was back in his tent. He had steadily improved, getting to the point he could hit the bullseye with regularity. Zephyr had sensed the change and sent him off early, so he'd had time to think on it.

The Skill mentioned that it applied to rifles, as well. That meant Spellguns. So if he somehow managed to find one that the Skill applied to...

But that was for the future. For now, he had more pressing issues. Like being prepared for the upcoming hunt. He had the Skill to use Pa's crossbow, so now he just needed actual experience.

He'd have to ask to go hunting smaller game with someone.