"One more try, come on!" Mox's voice had that pushy edge, like a trainer who'd seen enough failure to find it funny.

"Hmm…" I grumbled, fingers already gripping another arrow.

We were by the well in the forest, where she’d lined up a few empty bottles on the edge like they were waiting for their turn to get shattered. It was my fourth shot, and if I’m being honest, it was probably worse than the first.

The first shot? Pathetic. The arrow barely left the string before it flopped onto the ground like it had given up on life. Mox hadn’t even laughed at that one—just stared at it, like she needed time to process how someone could be that bad. Every shot after that was more of the same, with me missing so wide that I was starting to think I had a secret grudge against the air itself.

Mox rubbed her temples, sighing so deeply it might have pulled the leaves from the trees. She stepped behind me, nudging my shoulder. "Alright, eyes up. See those bottles? Yeah? Aim at them, not the dirt."

"Yeah, yeah." I adjusted my grip on the bow.

“Hold your breath. Nock the arrow. Pull the string.” Her voice was steady, patient but firm. She moved behind me, her hands resting lightly on mine, guiding them into place. “Release your breath first, then the string.”

"Got it," I muttered, eyes fixed on the bottle like it owed me money.

Her fingers pressed over mine, and together, we pulled back the string. I took a breath in sync with her, feeling her chest press lightly against my back. I tried not to think about it. Just breathe. Aim. Breathe out.

The string snapped free.

The arrow soared straight---and buried itself in the side of the well.

Mox's head tilted, mouth hanging open in disbelief. "Huh." She walked over to the well, hands on her hips as she stared at the arrow like it was an art piece in a gallery. “Wow. You suck.”

“Story of my life,” I muttered, slumping my shoulders.

“Thought you'd be bad,” she added, pulling the arrows free from the well. "But not this bad.”

While she gathered the rest of the arrows, I opened the menu and checked the map for possible hunting locations. It displayed potential hunting spots—some areas had a rabbit icon, like where we were, while others had icons for bears and other creatures.

Hovering my finger over a certain area, a screen popped up to the right. It showed how much of the area had been explored and what ‘activities’ I had completed. It also displayed how many animals I could hunt before the ‘First Time’ bonus ended. It seemed that after a certain number of animals, the boost would end, and I would start earning the normal amount of points.

I checked the location where we were on the map.

===================

Forgotten Well

===================

Memory Fragments: ☐☐

Hunted Animals: ☐☐☐☐☐

Side Activities: ☐☐☐

- Pick up 10 Jerona flowers

- Loot two chests

- Discover all ‘?’ in the area

===================

On the map, there seemed to be quite a few question marks scattered about, waiting to be discovered. If I could uncover them all, I’d gain a lot of experience points. Handy.

When she returned, she slapped an arrow into my palm with a little extra force. I took it without a word, already bracing for round five of this embarrassment.

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“Come on,” she said, standing behind me again. "Same thing. Breathe, aim, pull, release." Her hands settled on mine, steadying the bow.

I drew the string, breathing with her again, but this time, something felt… different. I noticed her wings shift slightly, brushing softly against my sides. Her chest pressed just a little more firmly against my back, not enough to be intentional, but enough to notice. My heart jumped, and before I could stop myself, my fingers slipped.

The arrow shot off like a wild bird, vanishing into the treeline with a faint fwip. We both watched it disappear.

Mox slowly stepped back, hands on her hips again, lips pressing into a thin, unimpressed line. She sat on a nearby boulder, elbows on her knees, watching me like I was a particularly bad actor in a stage play.

"Maybe archery’s just not your thing,” she said, resting her chin in her hand. “You’ve got magic, don’t you? Pretty good with spells for an F-class.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, eyes still on the treeline. “Can’t hunt with a fireball.”

Her wings gave a small flick as she snorted. “You’ve got the best chef in Kinowa, Axel. Why would you even want to hunt? What, is this a hobby or something?”

“Something like that,” I lied.

She side-eyed me for a second, then shrugged. “Alright. Try again, then.”

"You can go if you want," I said, gripping the bow tighter. "Looks like I’ll be at this for a while."

Mox's gaze didn’t budge. “That supposed to be your polite way of saying, ‘I want to be alone, so get lost’?” She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, pretty sure that’s what that was.”

"Not really." I glanced at her, then back at the bottles. "Figured you'd get bored watching me fumble with a bow for another hour."

"Mm, nah." She leaned back on her hands, eyes still on me. "It’s actually kinda funny. Never seen someone this bad with a bow. I mean, it’s impressive in a way."

"Must be nice."

“Come on, take another shot, hotshot. Let’s see where it lands this time.”

“Probably the moon,” I muttered, lifting the bow again.

Her laughter echoed through the forest, light and sharp like the snap of a twig. This was just… oddly calming. And embarrassing.

Taking another shot, I drew the string back and released it, only to watch the arrow veer sharply to the right, stabbing into the dirt like it had somewhere else to be.

“Great,” I muttered under my breath, grabbing another arrow.

This time, I pulled the string slower, steadying my breath. I focused on the bottle in front of me, locked in, and released. The arrow soared through the air—and vanished into the distance, probably on its way to ruin some bird's day.

A long sigh slipped from me as I dragged myself toward the well, picking up the stray arrows. My steps crunched lightly on the forest floor, the scent of damp earth faint in the air. At least the weather was decent—cloudy but not cold, and the wind wasn’t strong enough to send trees swaying. Small blessings.

I returned to my spot, twirling an arrow between my fingers before sliding it onto the bowstring. My arms were starting to feel it, the dull ache of repetitive motion settling in. I raised the bow, lined up my shot, and prepared to fire again.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Mox called out, leaning forward from her spot on the boulder. “And don’t pull the string too far. That bow’s older than me. Snap it, and you’re walking home unarmed.”

"Got it," I replied, eyes locked on the bottle.

This time, I listened. I pulled the string just enough, let out a slow breath, and let it fly. The arrow zipped through the air, brushing past one of the bottles so close it wobbled in place like it might tip over. It didn’t, but it moved. That was good enough for me.

I glanced at Mox, expecting a snarky comment, but she only raised her eyebrows.

“Not bad, hotshot.” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s the best shot you’ve had so far.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, my eyes still on the bottles. “Felt different that time.”

“Uh-huh. See? Not as hard as you’re making it out to be.” She leaned back, hands behind her head like she was ready to nap. Her wings folded closer to her back, their tips twitching every so often.

I nocked another arrow, fingers finding the string naturally this time. “Didn’t exactly have anyone to teach me.” I kept my voice flat, eyes focused on the target. "No father around to show me the ropes like you.”

Her grin faltered. Her hands dropped from behind her head, fingers running through her hair awkwardly. "Ugh… don’t pull that guilt trip on me," she groaned, eyes flicking to the side. “I was just messing with you. My bad, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, raising the bow again.

“Come on, less talking, more shooting,” she said, standing up and dusting her hands on her pants. Her wings gave a small stretch before settling back into place. She tilted her head toward me, eyes sharp with mischief. “You still gotta get ready for your ‘date’ with the Queen, hotshot. Better hurry it up!”

“Date, huh?” I asked, drawing the string back once more. “You call hanging by the neck 'a date' where you're from?”

Her laugh was sharp and loud, echoing through the trees. "Yeah, yeah, keep that energy. You’re gonna need it when you’re choking down that royal food."

I let the arrow fly. It missed, of course…