《Calf the Furless (First Edition)》Chapter 10: Trust, Arrows and a Sandal II: False Victories

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Though he felt the tell-tale signs of a headache at his temples, he stamped down the urge to rub them down and directed his eyes to the target. He knelt into a crouch, moving back till he was behind cover, then circled the bird's perch to get the picture from all angles. He picked the best position and prepared for the first attempt. He was now behind a bush with thick foliage, the weight of its leaves curling it into a roof over his now standing form. The bush had a small area of leaves sparse enough for him to sight his shot, and that spot faced the bird from its left flank, increasing the chances of getting the shot off without alarming the bird. He adjusted his position slightly, left shoulder facing the target before muddying and sanding the arrow to avoid glare on the arrowhead from the reflected moonlight. He nocked the arrow, bringing the bow up to face the target, and slowly drawing the string in tandem with a breath. He held it for a second, steadying the shot before releasing it. It was a perfect release, without follow-through or unintended twist. The arrow sailed flawlessly towards the rooster's wing and for a moment it looked like he was going to get it in one shot, but the rooster hopped to the right just before contact. It turned to glare at him before hopping back to its original position and turning its attention away from him again. Stumped at how the bird had managed to dodge that, he reviewed his first attempt, analyzing the next part of the riddle for pointers.

"A hop this way... A hop that way...", he murmured.

He guessed this part of the riddle was literal given how the bird had gone back to its original position after dodging. Having decided on his next approach, he prepared the arrows as necessary. He took out three arrows and his carving knife, cutting off the arrow tips and the fletched ends off two arrows, lining the resulting shafts next to the full arrow. He finished his new arrow, fixing the shafts in place using tight knots at three places along the main shaft. Done with this arrow, he collected three more from the pouch, palming them face up. He nocked the meaty arrow and pointed the bow upward, drawing it to a tremble before loosing the arrow into the air. He lowered the bow to sight the bird's chest, adjusting slightly to target the space just to the right of the bird. He used his thumb to nudge the next arrow into place for the next shot, nocking and releasing. He aimed the third at the bird's chest, repeating the loading motion before drawing and loosing the shot. The last arrow he shot just to the left of the bird, capping this attempt, and holding the drawn stance to view the outcome.

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The bird ignored the second shot which whizzed to its right, but reacted to the third arrow, which trailed the second by a few centimeters. With the right side blocked, the shot on target forced the bird to hop to the left, into the fourth arrow's trajectory. Just like last time, the bird waited till the arrowhead was about to make contact before hopping to the right, making to land back in its original position. Calf held his breathe, for everything was going as expected so far. He had settled on a multi-pronged approach to his attack but given the spacing limitations between consecutive shots, he'd chosen to instead use all the other shots to set up one killing blow. He could reduce the time between only two of the shots before the effort started to affect his accuracy, so he opted to use those two shots to force the bird into a corner. The next shot would be a significant distance from the preceding two so the bird would be able to hop back to its original position, and this would be the moment he would aim for. He'd increased the weight of the first arrow then shot it into the sky, anticipating an eventual arc towards the bird's head. The whole approach was quite the balancing act, but it seemed he'd managed it as the first arrow fell head-first towards the bird, which was now mid-hop. His hopes for the second attempt were dashed when the bird beat its wings, producing a wall of wind that expanded out, meeting the arrow, and blowing it off-course. The bird landed safely, this time not even bothering to look at Calf.

"5 arrows and 1 attempt left!" the old man's voice echoed, startling him.

That last action had been unanticipated, to say the least. He'd put a lot of thought and effort into this attempt and couldn't help but be peeved at all the arrows he'd wasted on it. He made to grab the remaining arrows for the last attempt and then the old man's words finally registered. The old man's count did not match his own, and there was no way he would get that wrong. He'd counted 6 arrows for the last attempt, albeit two of them being just shafts attached to his first arrow. The only way for his count to match the old man's as if he'd ignored those two shafts. 'That's it!', he exclaimed mentally before getting to work on his last attempt. He'd lucked upon a solution, and he'd make sure such providence would not go to waste.

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To test his theory, he took out 6 arrows and lifted them, awaiting a response from the old man. Sure enough, a 'No' followed. He removed the shaft from one of the arrows then lifted the five arrows and the single arrowhead, to which a 'Yes' followed. Pushing his luck, he added the shaft to his collection of arrows and the single arrowhead, lifting them and looking a question into the air, to which no response was given. Satisfied, he arranged his full arrows for the attempt; two regular arrows and three stone-head arrows with considerably more weight. He took out more arrows for his strategy, segmenting them and only excluding the fletched ends. He took out some fishing thread and wove a net with it, the wooden segments forming the greater part of the net whilst the arrowheads adorned its ridges. He took out his collection of fishing hooks next, tying four to the fletching of each of the three stone-head arrows. He augmented the three arrows even further by covering the heads in generous amounts of rubber, rolling the substance into a roughly spherical shape before rolling the adjusted heads in fine soil and dry grass. Satisfied, he palmed the four arrows, heads splayed, and attached the net to the last, taking a deep breath before starting his final attempt.

He nocked the first arrow and aimed for the branch above the bird, drawing the string to tautness before immediately loosing it. The arrow flew true, breaking on impact and releasing the net which fell onto the stationary bird under the weight of the net's arrowhead adornments. He nocked his next arrow and aimed it just beneath the bird's perch, loosing it as soon as the net was around the bird. He loosed two more arrows in quick succession. The rubber heads bounced off the trunk on impact, preventing the arrows from shattering. The arrows weighted the net as they hung by their hooks which were now tangled with the lower ends of the net. With the net arresting the bird's motion, Calf aimed his final shot at its breast, which hit home with a satisfying thunk that sent the bird screeching.

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