Target Practice [Fenn and Ren - Private RP]

[Warriors-horse]

It wasn't often that she got to make a trip out of the bakery to go anywhere but the marketplace, and Fennel Owens found the opportunity for some fresh air too good not to take. Though she felt at home around the big ovens - and very well she should, as she did live there - the hot and flour-dusted air did get a little suffocating at times. So it was times such as these that the sandy-colored feline flipped the sign in the window to read "closed," snatched up her bow and quiver, and passed halfway across town to the Festival Fields. There she knew there would be targets etched into the trees by young cats now grown old, weathered and chipped by thousands of arrows that had pierced the bark with each clear shot. Many generations had carved and re-carved the round circles, and they would most certainly be fresh and clear from the previous autumn's festival. Indeed, she could see them now as she crossed through the frostbitten grass, each stiff blade still sheathed in an icy coat from the fading winter, but still parting easily where the baker stepped. Her breath came as wisps of vapor that disappeared in the matter of a heartbeat, attesting to the fact that spring was creeping up on the cats of Gweillan.

In fair range of the marked trees - the targets were all but covered by her toe when she held up a paw to judge the distance - she slung the quiver off of her shoulder, the arrows clattering loosely in the toughened leather. Fennel frowned; the sound meant she was low, and would need to make or purchase more of them soon. For now, she must resolve not to break any. Positioning her bow and bending over to select an arrow, she was suddenly aware of the cool quiet that blanketed the fields. I wish Flax was still around. He wasn't a good shot, but at least he was good for company. The thoughts of her brother swept her into memories, and made her oblivious to any activity on the road a few yards behind her.

[Pyris | Renly Grimm]

She was absolutely bored! Nothing much seemed to go on around here anymore and Avery had completely ditched out on her. The Maine coon hadn't seen him weeks! She could only wonder where he was and at this point was a little upset with him. That cut tail bounced about behind her, Renly giving it a glance and only wondered what her tail would of looked like if it hadn't been cut off to a stump. She wiggled it a moment before turning back around. The day was cool and the sky was clear, it was a nice day but the streets were quite and the city bustled from afar.
Boring.

The assassin's eyes would light up though as she saw someone with a bow in the fields and took a moment to watch her. The she-cat's own bow hanging from its sheath next to the quiver that held soft pale wood arrows with blue feathers at the end. A smile crawled over her maul and she waited for the tan cat, who was now aiming, to release her arrow before approaching.

[Warriors-horse]

Drawing back the bowstring with well-practiced paws, there was some sort of poise and dexterity that came over the she-cat's thicker frame, and with a calm whoosh she let the arrow fly. With a sharp thwack of stone tip meeting cold hardwood, it met the target dead-on, sticking up at a slight angle from where it had pierced the frozen tree. Smiling satisfactorily, Fennel studied the scene as if to calculate her next shot.

Just as she was about to reach down for a second arrow, the sound of feet pushing through the field grass alerted her. Looking over her shoulder, she fixed her gaze on a female form, not recognizable to the baker. This light-colored feline also possessed a bow and quiver, it seemed, and Fennel wondered if she too had come for target practice. She smiled at the idea of perhaps having some company on this chilly day.