Ronan was out on the street with some other boys from the village, shooting arrows. They had set up a wooden board a few kilometers away, and each of them took turns aiming at it. Everyone had their own bows and arrows, and they kept laughing as they practiced.
Of them all, Ronan was the best. Of course, he is; he was trained by one of the best, and now he is the one helping the younger ones, correcting their stance and giving them advice.
They kept shooting until it was the turn of the youngest boy there, Samuel. Samuel was not like the rest, he was more of a reader than a fighter. Still, he picked up the bow, placed an arrow, and tried to draw it back. His hand trembled as he pulled the string. The others encouraged him, some teased him while, some cheered him.
He released the first shot, but the arrow dropped to the ground before it even reached the board. A few of the boys laughed, but others told him not to give up.
