archer-2345211_1280.jpgThe archer stood still, the wind gently pulling at his clothes, the string taut next to his cheek, his fingers tensed, with the arrow pointing at the target. No one could detect that slight tremble, that slight twitch in his muscles, that minute wavering of his eyes. No one saw the little bead of sweat slowly trickle down the back of his neck.

He released the arrow. With a thunk, it hit the target, just shy of the red circle in the middle.

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