Kyra summoned all of her training, all of her long days and nights of shooting, everything she had within her, and forced herself to focus. She forced herself to become one with her weapon.
Kyra drew and released, and time slowed as she watched the arrow fly, hearing its whistle, unsure if it would hit. There were too many variables at play, from a gust of wind to the swaying branches to her frozen hands, to the movement of the soldier.
Kyra heard the satisfying thump of the arrow finding its mark, and she heard the soldier cry out. She watched his face in the moonlight, contorted in pain, and watched as he dropped the ax harmlessly at his side and collapsed, dead.
The dragon looked over at Kyra and their eyes met. Its huge yellow eyes, glowing even in the night, seemed to acknowledge w
