Clay prepared his bow, pulling the string. He could hear them approaching each time more, slowly, fearlessly, as if they were the owners of that forest.
The archer felt comfortable when holding his bow, which was basically part of him. He felt safer when he had an arrow prepared to shoot there. His mind never doubted that he would strike that arrow if it was needed. His aim would never fail him. When his entire body was crumbling down, when his mind was collapsing, he knew that he could trust in his bow, his arrow, and his aim. Nothing would take those things away from him.
The first Night Claw (the name of the Dreads that were very similar to panthers, but with two extra tails with sharp tips, huge and poisonous claws, and protuberant teeth), appeared stalking in the shadows under Clay. The latter was on top of a tree branch, hiding his presence. His bow still exuded a bit of "Willpower" but it wouldn't be too noticeable until he truly used it to attack.
