WEBVTT

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The ancient pines of the deep forest whispered

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secrets to the rising gale.

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High above the tangled undergrowth. Lyra stood perched

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on a moss -slick outcrop.

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the wind whipping her dark hair across her

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face and snapping violently at the edges of

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her leather tunic.

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The tempest was a living thing. howling through

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the canopy and trying desperately to tear her

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footing away.

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Below. crashing through the dense thicket. the beast

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of the woods surged forward.

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a massive shadow -woven stag with eyes burning

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like cold embers.

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It was closing the distance too fast. its

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heavy hooves shaking the damp earth.

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There was no time for hesitation. no room

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for error.

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With practiced. fluid grace. Lyra brought the recurve

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bow up.

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Her muscles strained against the immense resistance as

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she pulled the string back to her cheek.

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Every fiber of her being locked into the

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tense. dynamic pose.

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balancing her weight perfectly against the howling gusts.

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The arrow. tipped with cold iron and fletched

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with the gray feathers of a mountain hawk.

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trembled slightly in the turbulent air. held steady

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only by her unyielding focus.

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She closed one eye. calculating the drift of

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the wind. the erratic movement of the beast.

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and the exact heartbeat between the gales.

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The forest around them seemed to hold its

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breath.

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Then the wind died for a single. perfect

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second.

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Lyra released her grip.

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With a sharp asterisk thrum that vibrated through

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her very bones.

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the arrow launched into the gloom.

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a streak of lethal intent cutting straight through

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the heart of the storm.