Clockwork Arrows
The arrow fishtailed out of sight, banging against trees and becoming hopelessly lost in the thicket.
"Well that's a goner, Al." Mathew remarked to Alfred.
Arthur and Francis stayed hidden in their position behind the two.
"Did you know that they knew how to do archery?" Arthur asked Francis.
"No." Francis replied and shook his head. "I didn't. I'm assuming you didn't either?"
"Quite correct."
"I don't understand how this happened. When did they even start?" Francis dropped his voice to a quieter whisper when he saw Canada glance back in their direction, perhaps alerted by their small talk before he shook his head and ran to catch up to his brother to fetch their arrows.
Arthur snapped his gaping jaw with a clack and frowned at Francis. "Whatever do you mean? Shooting archery? Or Mathew actually talking for once and Alfred not cutting in and mouthing off every few seconds?"
Francis nodded appreciably. "Actually, both." He replied.
Arthur just shook his head. "No clue."
And they never did have a clue, but after Francis stubbed his toe on a rock and started furiously swearing in French, Alfred and Mathew did have a clue...that they were there and invited the two over to join them. And so, the reason why they knew such an archaic sport was never brought up again and both older men soon forgot it, but Alfred and Mathew never forgot their roots nor the thousands of other traditions they practiced yearly to remember their first peoples.
*shrugs*
Just a short and pointless drabble