The rightmost of the three, remaining slightly behind her companions, advances effortlessly across the harsh gravel pathway, holding a long, curved bo... to one side. Your eyes dart instinctively towards the quiver the hangs across her shoulder, bristling as it is with densely-packed arrows. You also remark a small dagger tucked away in a loose belt strapped around her waist. Danger noted, you let yourself gaze lustily over her body. Her auburn locks flow freely in the breeze and the tight. We both agreed with Jerry about carrying Saint Chris. Time to trot out the jackets and sweaters and vests. Trudy, ever the perfectionist, decided to go to the firing range on Wednesday afternoons, when she didn’t have classes. I told her I’d join her whenever I could break away, and suggested that we also try to get there one evening a week. In the afternoons we could go through all the positions that Kirk had taught us, and in the evenings we could work on speed and accuracy in our prime. More

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