“Excellent progress today, Fletcher,” Taeleia commended him as they sat around their campfire. Fletcher beamed at her over the dance of the flames. Even the fire was his design—though he still had Effrax’s gleed tucked in his pack, the elves had taught him to create fire from practically nothing, using only rocks and twigs.
He slept well that night and rose early the next morning. They were approaching another forest and he found himself eager to reach it. He wanted to test his improved archery skills in the more difficult terrain of the Smarlindian woods.
Over the next two days he experienced a downturn in his progress. Taeleia said this was natural, as snap-shooting was more difficult when branches and trees were in the way. He concentrated on form and told himself not to get discourag
