Delilah Pov
I stood alone on our training grounds, barefoot in the grass. The world was quiet except for the occasional creak of my bowstring and the rustle of wind against my skin. Three straw dummies stood at the far end of the clearing, silent and waiting for me to destroy them.
I inhaled deeply, the scent of earth grounding me.
This was my rhythm. My calm.
I pulled an arrow from my quiver and notched it with practiced ease. My fingers curled around the string, drawing it back in one smooth motion. My eyes locked on the red bullseye painted across the dummy’s chest.
Exhale.
Release.
The arrow split the wind and slammed into the heart of the target.
Dead center.
I didn’t allow myself a smile. Instead, I reached for two more arrows.
Nock. Draw. Fire.
Two more arrows thudded int
