The bird flew high up in the sky, it's wings flapping tremendously against the afternoon breeze. It aviated higher aiming towards the now fully risen sun. Every part of his body working together to attain full flight. It graced the blueness without perching. It's wings getting weaker from all the fluttering.
The weapon of war whizzed by at an instantaneous speed in a horizontal line, on a mission to hit it's target. The wind accompanied and aided to it's aspired direction. The sharp pointed end of the weapon leading the way through. It's streamlined body gave it no weight so it moved with ease.
The avian kept flying with it's speed getting lesser at every passing minute. It's wings were giving up but it kept on flying. It was a flight of survival. Just as it was about reaching the horizon, the lean, weightless object pierced though his feathers, to his skin and into it's body. Everything stopped. The flapping of wings stopped and the accelerated heartbeat stopped. With it in the middle and the pointy and blunt ends at both side, it fell gradually and steadily.
"I must say. You are getting pretty good with that bow".
The young boy who had shot the arrow, gasped and held the bow to his front while he turned slowly, switching places to the back as he turned.
Up in his front, a man in late thirties wore a glistening black armour atop a black trouser and a black undergarment which cover his upper body. His long black hair that screamed hand-combed plummeted down his shoulder even with it tied in a ponytail. His blue pupils, dazzling circle in his eyes that made him look more handsome, was at it's best, dazzling with all beauty. He was a Knight but not just any knight, he was a Dokatridge Knight and the boy was cocksure.
"Uncle Arcani". Exclaimed the once frightened boy. His inability at his young age to fully distinguish between his father's voice and that of his Uncle's made him shiver in his veins when he thought that his hidden tricks had been traced out by his father and his undeniable punishment would ensue.
"Don't you ever touch this bow and arrow, ever again. You are too young and too smart to know that you should not disobey my orders". His father had told him when he caught him with the instrument his Uncle Arcani had given him. He even went ahead to warn his Uncle.
He was elated when he heard his father will be going to his uncle's funeral without him and his brother and would be coming back in two days time, those he heard while he eavesdropped on his parents conversation. Now that he was sure it was not his father's voice, his happiness was a bundle.
Without caution or pressure, he jumped on his uncle and was caught just in time by the steel dressed man. "The last time I met you, you were quite small and lightweighted". Arcani said as he ruffled the little boy's hair which was of the same color as his. He had the Dokatridges' hair but not their eyes. The Mandwell had a share in this little child. Marcella Mandwell, his mother, had given him those eyes.
"Oh Uncle, I am afraid, I can't say the same of you either". Arcani's nephew said and wiggled his legs, motioning to be released from the hug he had thrown himself into, but at last ended up being swallowed by it.
Arcani understood and dropped his nephew gently on his feet. "But you have to be more careful with the aiming". Arcani tried to lecture him as he took out the bow from his hand and drew out the arrow from the bagpack of the little boy. Then he strode to the window. The little boy followed him and watched to learn.