Got to Make it Count

by johannespunkt

He imagined that if he missed, or if it went in far but not far enough, the feeling would be like having something stuck between his teeth, multiplied by a thousand. The arrowhead would lodge itself in the roof of his mouth and he would not be able to get it out, or close his mouth properly. But he didn’t have any other weapon, and every time he shot his one arrow up into the sky, the wind greedily took it from its plotted course and he had to travel to find it again, and spend a day sharpening it.

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