Coldsnap: The Billionaire Alpha's Fated Pregnant Princess (GL)-Chapter 142 - The Bullseye Princess

Chapter 142: Chapter 142 - The Bullseye Princess
To deal with my
mental state
, I figured that I needed to do something at least a little relaxing. I found a suitable clearing about fifty yards from where I’d pulled out the shipping container - far enough that
any missed shots
would not likely strike my makeshift den.
A few fallen trunks at least as thick as my torso would make sufficient archery targets, since I’m not overly concerned about
arrow
integrity. I spent several minutes finding those of a size that I could
pull into the Stash
and learning how to ’summon’ them in the directions I needed.
Several more minutes went by
carving concentric circle
s into the center one’s surface, with one of the hunting knives. To create
crude
but functional target rings, like the kind I’d used before - and a little like Helene had seen the Omegas of her pack using.
> Might have been quicker to do this with claws, but not as pretty. And this is sort of calming. <
The outer third ring is as far from the second as my spread hand, with the center about the size of my fist. On a whim, I also notched out the very
center
point, no bigger than a coin. I didn’t expect to hit that spot today, but luck
sometimes played a factor
.
The compound bow I’d hooked on my backpack with a carabiner and simple knot of rope...
felt alien in my hands
when actually thinking to use it. The lessons I’d been given by my brother could not prepare me for modern engineering, though the
tutorial video
I watched before coming out here helped.
I wrapped my hands in strips of cloth torn from one of the hunter’s old shirts before handling the
silver-tipped
arrows. Even through fabric, I could almost feel the metal’s hostile energy against my werewolf nature -
a cold burning tingle
that made my hairs stand up.
"Feels a bit like some magic from my world. I guess that’s a sort of proof it does exist in a form here. Might be wishful thinking."
Vrika sent back impressions of concern and curiosity. My wolf understood the danger to us but was intrigued by
my continued reference to magic
. And perhaps my determination to master this human weapon, despite claims to have been
born a beast
.
Nocking
the first arrow felt clumsy compared to the fluid motion I remembered developing in my youth. The bow’s ’let-off’ kicked in at full draw, suddenly reducing the weight I had to hold. The sensation was expected...
yet I nearly released early anyway
.
> I’m reacting as if the string had snapped its tension. I guess I didn’t have much chance to get over that accident in the past, huh? <
The arrow I shot flew wide, yet embedded itself in
bark
anyway. Two yards to the left of my target - in a
poor living tree
whose low branches I was using to brace the fallen logs against.
"Fantastic start."
I muttered while
stalking the twenty yards over to retrieve it
. The tip had bitten deep into the bark - showing that these arrows fired from this tool weren’t just deadly to werewolves, they were
devastating
to anything they hit. Silver coating... but steel heads.
The second shot went better - because I moved up a few yards - but struck low. The third was a bit too high. Each miss
frustrated
me more than the last. My form felt wrong in this body, my timing
felt off from my ideal
.
Everything about this bow demanded subtly different muscle memory than what Ravi had taught me. What’s more, it was a
skill
I hadn’t used consistently for more than a decade and a half. His patient voice echoed in my memory for just a moment
before I shoved it aside
.
I didn’t need ghosts of the past interfering with the
present
. He’s not here to help.
He wasn’t there to help
. I can do this all on my own.
By the
tenth shot
, I was really starting to find the bow’s particular rhythm. The pulleys engaged smoothly, the release timing felt cleaner. My eleventh arrow actually hit inside the second ring instead of
thunking
only around it.
"Progress."
Not feeling particularly
encouraged
with how close I am to the target, I speak aloud about my small success anyway. The late afternoon sun broke through clouds as I continued practicing. Sweat slowly
dampened my shirt
despite the cool air.
My shoulders ached from the exercise because I told Vrika not to fix anything as I
re-learned this skill
... and my wrapped fingers were growing
sore
from the bowstring as I regretted that choice.
But gradually,
inevitably
, new muscle memory began to assert itself. My stance widened and settled as I became more
consistent
. The arrows started clustering closer to my fist sized target.
Despite a whining desire to
keep Helene’s body in better condition
, which I probably should with the baby inside, my wolf still seemed to approve of this streak of
less destructive
independence. Even sending impressions of satisfaction as my form improved.
The compound’s power was honestly remarkable for something an average strength human could wield. The arrows entered wood with a satisfying sound... and they were
occasionally quite troublesome to retrieve
.
And since I was
limited on available ammunition
, I did so frequently. Despite also splintering two shafts as an hour passed. Then another as
twilight
finally edged toward night. I’d lost myself in the meditative rhythm of draw, aim, release. Retrieve arrows, repeat.
But it wasn’t the same sort of fog as I held before. It was
serenity
, not shock. Something I hadn’t possessed in quite some time. During the final retrieval,
with only one arrow left functional
, I noticed a pulsing blue glow in the corners of my vision.
| TASK: Strike Center Within 3 Hrs |
| TASK COMPLETION ✓ |
| REWARD IMMINENT ⚝ |
I blinked at the interface’s text. I’d been so focused on my practice that I hadn’t noticed the system glow warning me of it assigning a
new objective
. Yet again, it has given me one that I might have already been doing
even without its suggestion
.
"You really do seem to be working towards the same goals I am. But why?"
Speaking to the empty air made me feel
crazy
. But I couldn’t help but wonder. Some of the interface notifications label me as ’chosen’. I had assumed that was
for a purpose
and that it wanted to
lead
me toward it.
Which may still be true, but if so? It is giving me
far too much free will
. Not just that, it is
aiding
me in ways that I would find helpful, personally. There’s still a chance it is
lulling
me into
trusting it implicitly
.
As I examined the target, I realized
several
times had indeed struck within the coin sized notch I made. At least based on the holes and marks left after pulling the arrowheads free. And
I feel really happy about that
.
"Aw... should have taken pictures..."