Bruce scoffed. “Nae hard for us. Right lads?” He stood in silence as his brothers shook their heads and exclaimed a similar opinion. “I’m more concerned for our competition.” He arched a brow at Darshan, his lips twisting in an echo of his father’s smirk. “I saw him trying. I dinnae think he has the strength to fully use his bow never mind send an arrow that far.”
“You’ve a keen eye, lad,” Gordon murmured. “Your dad would be proud.”
Hamish glanced at the boy. Usually, mention of their long-dead father would elicit a stillness through the whole trio. Not this time. Bruce’s face might’ve darkened slightly in embarrassment, but his chest was puffed out with pride.
The light seemed to dim as Hamish nocked an arrow, the air stilling like that morning outside the tent. Just a wee bit of cloud cover is all. There were no bears in this part of the forest. The boys would’ve cried out at the first whisper. His brother would’ve alerted them.
His bow trembled. Even knowing the true source of his accuracy, he hadn’t actually managed a successful hit since that one in the castle range. Back when everything had started to go wrong.
Lifting his focus to the little circle carved into the tree trunk, Hamish breathed deep. It was hard to see how magic came into play. He barely needed to think on it. Was that part of the wonder in Darshan’s voice over his skill? The effortlessness of it all?
He drew and loosed his arrow. The point hit precisely where he had focused. Dead centre.
“There’s your target,” he said, shouldering his bow. “Show us how close you can get. You too, Dar,” he added with a jerk of his head.
The boys, ever ones for showing off, drew themselves to their full heights. It gave the added effect of adjusting their stances to be in line with their target.
Darshan stood beside them. He watched the boys’ actions with what Hamish hoped was renewed confidence, even going so far as to mimic the way they stood. At least, to an extent.
Mindful not to pull too much attention to himself and let his nephews lose their concentration, Hamish sidled over to his lover. “Let them go first,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Then we’ll work on your form.”
Darshan arched one brow in his direction, but gave no further indication of agreement.
One by one, the boys loosed their arrows. Whilst each one hit the tree trunk, only Bruce’s managed to make it near the target.
“Good job, lads,” Gordon said, clapping his hands. “Stay put,” he added as they took a step towards the tree. “We’re nae finished with this round. We dinnae want one of you scamps getting some extra ventilation.” His brother rubbed at his face as if that somehow erased his poorly-concealed humour. He nodded at Hamish. “When you’re ready.”
Hamish laid his hands on Darshan’s hips, intending on shifting his lover into a more suitable position. He froze as the body beneath his fingertips tensed. “Is something wrong?”
Darshan shook his head. “Unexpected is all. I assume you mean to criticise my stance?”
“Improve,” he stressed. “You’re capable in the draw, but this is a little different to hunting. You’ve time, for one. And your whole body…” Gently coaxing Darshan around, he lined his lover up with the tree. It was harder to imagine the distance without a properly marked point, but having Darshan train in shooting beyond the needed distance wouldn’t be the worst thing. “You should nae be square on with your target.”
“Understood.”
“Your feet are best kept a shoulder-width apart.” Rather than clumsily force Darshan to move, Hamish waited until his lover had shuffled into the appropriate position. “Keep your knees supple, that’s also important for stability. You dinnae want them to lock.” Out of habit, he bounced on the balls of his feet in the same manner his father had first taught him all those years ago. “The torso… you want it to stay centred and your back should remain straight. Like this.” He stood beside Darshan and mimed holding his bow at full draw. “Arch in any direction and you’ve lost balance alongside power.”
“I believe I grasp the concept.”
“Good.” If they could hammer in the basics swiftly, they’d have more time to hone Darshan’s aiming abilities. “Now, aim for the tree and loose. Dinnae fash if you cannae make it. We’ll come to that in a moment.”
Pursing his lips, Darshan did as instructed. The arrow struck the tree low, just embedding itself into the tree roots. His lover winced.
“Nae bad,” Hamish said.
Gordon scoffed. “It’s bloody better than your first attempt. You couldnae hit the east side of the castle unless you were in a rage. Threw some good tantrums back in the day, too.”
Heat took Hamish’s face as he caught the tail end of Darshan’s snicker. He glared at his brother, the promise of a slow death flashing hotly in his mind. “With the stories I’ve heard of your training, you were nae much better. At least me improvement came a wee bit faster than yours.” Darshan would likely say the cause there was a product of this wisp of magic he possessed, but he fancied practice had a larger say in the act.
Gordon stuck out his tongue at Hamish before grinning broadly. “Let’s see if he can do it again.” He squeezed the shoulder of their closest nephew, who happened to be Mac. “You lot, too. There’s nae such thing as too much practice. Now go fetch your arrows whilst you can.” Ruffling Mac’s hair, Gordon gave the boy a little encouragement in heading to the tree.
Grumbling, the other two boys followed their younger brother. They plucked the arrows free, including the one in the ground, and returned to their positions.
The four continued their attempts to match Hamish’s mark. He went down the
