Frustration

A brief whistle and a thunk pierces the quiet forest air, the cause being an arrow hitting far off mark. A growl of frustration escapes Zylus as he puts his bow down to the side and runs over to the target to retrieve all his bad shots. The end of his tail flicks side to side as he scrambles around, carrying half the ammunition in his mouth while he pulls them from the soft dirt and the sandbag target. As he stands to turn, he notices two figures approaching, to which he sighs heavily.

“Hey little brother!”

“Having trouble there?”

Zylus huffs, throwing his arrows on the ground next to his bow. “I thought you two were helping Uncle with the hunt.”

Cliff grins, leaning his arm over Clover’s shoulder. “We’re just that good, y'see. Enough food for a week!”

The tiefling boy simply scowls, sitting on the ground with his knees to his chest.

“Hey, little man! We didn’t mean it, we’re just joking around!” Clover leans over to ruffle Zylus’ short hair, only to get slapped away.

“I get it. You’re both better than me at archery. And fighting. And cooking. And everything.”

“Zy, c'mon, that’s not what we're—

Cliff grabs his twin’s arm, pulling him back gently. "Clo, let’s just… leave him be for a while.”

Zylus forces himself not to look as he hears their footsteps walking away, curling himself up tighter. A hand finds one of his arrows on the floor while trying to tear grass from the ground, and he grasps it tightly. He stabs it into the dirt, hard, with all the feeling he has, and takes a deep, shaky breath.