The full tile wouldn't fit...
Five times Jo Shanks hit his target and one time he did not.
This is the first day of the June prompts! Over the course of this month, this is most likely the only story I will be posting here, as I want to work on one of my original stories. The stories will be set in the same universe unless said directly otherwise.
June 2: Make a five and one! (For example: Five times (Character) did (Something) and the one time (Character) did not do (Something).)
To God Be The Glory
JO Shanks stood steady as he tracked his target with his bow, the wolf scout running swiftly through the woods. He would shoot only if the enemy saw them; killing the wolf before he saw them would make him just as bad as the wolves. As he waited, he could hear the rapid breathing of the young doe and buck that he was escorting to Cloud Mountain. The younglings, who had just lost their parents to the Birds of Pray, were defenseless. Jo narrowed his eyes as the young doe whimpered softly. He would protect them with his very life if need be. The wolf spun at the soft noise of the doe, and Jo met his eyes with a sharp glare.
The wolf snarled, shifting forward and standing on two legs, raising his own bow. Jo let out a deep breath as the wolf swiftly placed an arrow on his bow. Aiming his weapon, the young rabbit let go of his arrow. Jo's arrow was true, and the wolf fell silently, his paws slipping off his bow, the arrow falling harmlessly to the ground.
With a grunt, Jo landed on the tree branch just under him, ducking as one of Helmer's Birds of Prey swung down at him. He crouched down on the branch, surveying the area around him as the Bird flew over his head. Fingering the arrow that was already on his bow, he spotted Cole. The tall black rabbit was balancing on a branch, scanning the area before him, oblivious to the solid wooden Wolf that was swinging towards his back. In a flash, Jo shot his arrow, breathing in relief as it sliced through the rope, dropping the wooden wolf to the ground below them. Cole spun on the branch, nodding at him before throwing a knife in Jo's direction. The archer held still, closing his eyes, as he felt the air move around the knife as it passed his head. He heard a soft snick as the knife lodged in the swinging bird that he had ducked earlier. He grinned, nodding his thanks to the other rabbit before leaping off the branch, reaching for a rope as he fell.
Jo Shanks held his breath as he aimed at the target, his father watching silently behind him. After many heated conversations with his father and even a few interventions from his brother, Jo's father had unhappily agreed to let Jo continue using the bow if he could pass the test his father had arranged. If he could hit the centre of the target ten times without fail, he would be able to continue using his bow. If he missed even one, he would have to give the bow up and take up his sword again.
He silently raised the bow, aiming for the target. Letting out a breath, he closed his eyes and let the arrow go, only opening them when he heard the arrow hit the target. He walked slowly to the target, stealing himself for what he would find. Jo slumped in relief as he tugged the arrow out of the centre of the target.
Jo lay on the forest ground, feeling the pain wash over him. He had been injured in a battle with the Wolves and was alone, waiting for help to come. At his side lay a bow and the only arrow that he had left. There was a sudden crashing sound coming throught the woods, and he tensed, snatching the bow up and ignoring the sharp pain that flared. A rabbit, Heather Longtreader, ran into the clearing, not looking around as she sped across the open space. Jo's heart stuttered as he saw a Wolf step out of the woods, bow raised at the doe's back. Jo did not know if Heather could be trusted; growing up, he was taught that all Longtreaders were traitors. He had his doubts about them, as did most of the rabbits that had met the Longtreader siblings and their uncle. Yet the leaders of the Cloudy Mountain citadel said they could be trusted. He watched as the Wolf aimed his bow. Even if the doe was a traitor, it would be wrong to let the wolf kill her. He lifted his bow hesitating, knowing he would never be able to stop the wolf from shooting his arrow in time. A plan formed, and he shot the arrow desperately, praying that his idea worked. As his arrow flew through the air, the wolf let his own arrow go, and Jo stared in shock as his arrow hit the wolf's in two. The two halves fell to the ground, and Heather reached the woods again, disappearing from sight as the wolf slunk off in the opposite direction. Ho fell back, the pain overwhelming him. He slowly slipped into the darkness that was claiming him.
Jo knelt on the ground next to a young buck, who was wielding a bow too large for him, reminding him of himself only a few years before. Gently taking the bow from the buck's grip, he showed him how to put the arrow on the string, hold the bow, and aim. He grinned at the enthusiastic shout from the buck as the arrow hit the centre of the target. Hearing a slow clapping coming from behind him, he shook his head, rolling his eyes at Picket as the other rabbit smirked at him. Turning his head, he saw the rest of the Fowlers grinning at him.
Jo's heart was pounding as he walked up to the line. If he got this last shot, he would win the championship. Lifting his bow, he glanced sideways at the one rabbit who would have a chance at winning if he lost. The quiet doe was good with a bow, only missing one target in the thirty that had been set up. She was as good as he was, even though he hadn't missed a target; he knew it could have just as easily been him who missed. She looked disappointed as she watched him, and Jo knew that she would not win. Not unless he missed the centre of the target. Jo aimed the bow, closing his eyes for a moment before losing the arrow and changing his position slightly. He watched in satisfaction as the arrow hit the ring outside of the center. Stepping back, he nodded at the doe as she took her place. He could have won, but he knew what winning was like, and he wanted to give that to the doe. He wanted to give her the chance to have her friends congratulate her. He smiled, slipping away as her arrow hit dead centre, the cheers rising for her.