Longshot stared out at the forest from his post. As the wind tore at him, he grabbed his hat; currently threatening to whisk off into the deep woods. Longshot wouldt want anyone to see him without it. Especially not her.
He turned. The Duke was standing behind him, bracing his small figure against the vicious gale
s not worth it. No Fire Nation fool would be out here on a night like this.t stop to chat.
re both helping Pipsqueak make dinner.I know, I was surprised too. Unlikely pair, huh?t see his eyes.
Longshot never meant for people to know what he was thinking - unless he was asking or answering a question, of course. She was the one who had started it, years ago. She was the one who found him and read his mind. After a few months of growing trust and and slow bonding over the struggle of survival, they were torn apart by an ambush. Longshot was rescued by Jet. It took a while, but Longshot stumbled across her again, being harassed by some boys older than her. Jet agreed to take her in.
Then after the Avatar passed through, things had grown considerably.
he snapped out of it. The Duke pointed - it looked like there was a fight starting. More people were starting to form a ring, blocking their view. He heard the voice - The other girl, Echo, mimicked her. It was her way of hiding her true emotions - copying others.
Longshot pushed through the ring to the center. His eyes widened. Echo had gone below the belt - way below. She dodged all of Bees war paint and bandana were tied onto Echos possessions were fine.
Everyone looked at Longshot. Ignoring the fluttery nervousness at being watched by her eyes, he retrieved BeeShot, why - how he shrugged and handed the things to her, trying not to react when her small fingers brushed gently against his.
Longshot wasnt believe him. Then she would beat him up to make sure he wasnt defend himself, then he was lying.
He turned and walked out of the silent crowd, back to his small home. For a moment he stared at his collection of bows and quivers, along with his stock of extra arrows. He made ten every day and only used about 100(training/fighting) a month, so he had hundreds of unused ones.
Longshot decided to make some more arrows, but almost immediately rethought. He had more than he would ever use, and he had already made some earlier today, when he was bored.
He grabbed his willow bow - his thinnest, lightest and most flexible one. The hand grip was strong and firm, along with the silvery brown wood and the taut bowstring. He filled his quiver and snuck out to his training field.