TRINITY
Nasir’s deep voice carried over the quiet hum of the forest, a mixture of authority and calmness that commanded attention.
"Trajectory isn’t just about throwing," he said, gesturing toward the knife in my hand. "It’s about understanding the path the blade will take before it even leaves your fingers. The weight, the angle, the release—everything matters."
I nodded like I understood, but the truth was, I didn’t. Not really. I’d been at this for over an hour, and my frustration was mounting with every failed attempt. The bullseye etched into the bark of a sturdy oak tree mocked me, unmarred and perfect, while the rest of the tree bore the evidence of my failure—knives embedded at random angles and distances.
I adjusted my grip on the knife, its hilt slick with sweat, and took a
