I turned back to Emi.
She still looked shell-shocked. Those antenna hair strands drooped. Wilted. Like plants registering a pressure drop before a storm.
"Alright, Emi." I picked up a fresh arrow from the rack. Held it out to her. "Let's finish what we started. One more shot."
She took the arrow. Fingers wrapped around the smooth wood.
"But this time, don't look at the target."
Her head tilted. Confusion crossed her face. "Don't look at the target? Then how will I hit it?"
She turned the arrow over in her hands. Nervous habit. The metal tip caught the fluorescent lights.
"Look at me." I stepped to the side. Out of her line of fire. Our eyes met. "Focus on me. Send the arrow to the target."
She hesitated. Then nocked the arrow. Her movements flowed smoother now. Less robotic. More natural. She drew the string back to her cheek. Eyes locked with mine. Uncertain. Trusting.
That trust was a real thing. Tangible. A thread I could almost reach out and pluck.
