I took a deep breath and fired, the fletching scraping against my arm, so that, not only did the arrow land ten feet from where I wanted it to; I now had a gash running across my left arm.

"Ow!" I shrieked, my other hand flying onto the wound. "Stupid little–" I let out a string of words even Sneers would be impressed with.

I flung down the bow, still in my hand and resisted the urge to stomp on it.

"Your fault!" I yelled, pointing down at it.

(What are you doing!) an alarmed "voice" rang out.

My good hand curled into a fist. "Trying to be the weapons specialist! It kinda implies I know how to use more than one weapon!" I cradled my arm. "SPIRITS, this stings! Go get Bubbles for me, will you? You know, before I bleed to death!"

He ran over next to me, anyway.

"Longshot," I said through my teeth, "I realize archery's your specialty and everything, but I'd rather have the healer right now!"

He sighed–audibly, I might add–and grabbed something out of the weapon belt I'd convinced him to wear. He held out a jar of something and popped the lid off.

"What are you–" I started.

He ignored me and rubbed a bit of the goop on the cut.

I bit back a scream; that stuff made it sting like HELL. After a second, though, it started to feel a lot better.

I finally turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Where'd you get that?"

(Bubble and Granyt did a bit of a collaboration.) He was holding back a frown.

I chuckled. "Of course they did." I took in his expression. "What's wrong with you?"

He gave me a look. (You just sliced a hole in your arm.)

I shrugged. "I'm fine."

He shook his head. (But your gonna keep doing that until you really get the hang of it. Trust me, I know.) He gestured to the bandages on his left arm.

I sighed. "And what, exactly, can I do about that?"

He kneeled down and picked up the bow. (I can teach you.)

That would've been a good thing for me to think of before I sliced my arm open… "Okay."

He brushed the grass off the bow and handed it to me. I took an arrow from the pile by my feet, placed it, and pulled back.

He put his hands on mine. (You have to keep them steady.)

What! "I am keeping them steady!"

(No, you're not.) He sure knew how to annoy me. (You fight with daggers. That's all speed and adrenaline. This is precision and timing.)

I rolled my eyes. "Right. So how, exactly, do you hit them before they slice your throat open?"

(Practice.) He pulled back a bit more and let go. I did right after him and it landed in the center of the target I'd carved.

I frowned, set the bow down, turned around, and whacked him on the side of the head.

"Hey!" He fixed his hat. "What was that for?"

"You!" My arms flew up. "You're so perfect at this kind of stuff!" My fingers curled into claws. "I get that archery's your specialty and it takes patience, but so does life! And I don't have it!"

He chuckled. (Oh, yeah. I'm totally perfect. Because being considered stupid by almost every person I meet and not being able to get a girl to save my life is what every guy wants to be.)

Okay, I'd give him that. "Better than having guys hit on you." Seriously, I wasn't sure if that Ty Lee fiasco should be taken as a compliment or what.

He shrugged. (And on that note…) I wasn't so sure I was supposed to hear that. He leaned in. (You know, I don't think I've ever seen you without your bandana.)

"Longshot…" I started, seemingly unable to speak above a breath, "What are you…?"

Thoughts: Shit. Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!

"I have to go do something!" I blurted out. "Over there!"

I ran. Quite fast.

And promptly slammed my head into a tree.