Erling nocked the broadhead and drew to half tension, tracking the elk's movement as it turned on the trail, and then he picked his target. The elk was stubborn, but it was also searching, swinging its rack of antlers back and forth as it tried to find a way to escape.
"Wes, be ready with the horn," Erling said without taking his eyes off of his target to see if his fellow baron understood what he intended or not. Sometimes, you just had to put your faith in someone else's competence, and Erling had never once doubted Wes.
The elk already intended to flee, it just didn't know where, so Erling gave him a little… encouragement.
The arrow leapt from his fingers as though it had been pulled on a string, slicing through the air with speed and power far greater than the slow-moving signalling arrow he'd used just moments ago.
