I shot an arrow into the air; It fell to earth, I knew not where [OTA, MTW]
To say that the Giving Tree's timing is good would be a serious understatement in Cissie's opinion. When she finds her bow and archery gear tucked into the roots of the tree shortly after the Reality Storm wears off, she very nearly sits down and cries right there. She doesn't, but it's a near thing.
Her time here, in the Wood, is the longest Cissie has ever gone without her archery, and she may have been telling herself it didn't matter, but it does. Archery brings her focus. It calms her, gives her time to clear her head and think, and drawing a bow is as familiar as walking. She's missed it terribly, even as she's tried not to. The moment she picks up her bow, she feels calmer.
Cissie needs her archery, and especially needs it now. Her bow fits in her hands as if made for her, and her gear is worn in just the right spots. She takes them to a corner of the barracks where she might have some privacy, and decides to use the side of an empty cabin in lieu of a target. She shoots until she's out of arrows, then she collects them from the wall and starts all over again. And a third time. When she's shooting, it's just her and her bow and the arrow, going precisely where she tells it to. There's no Tim going missing and showing up during the storm, there's no White Eyed Men or magic immoveable rings, there's no being another person with different memories or being stuck here in dangerous magic woods with highly inappropriate, uncomfortable boots.
Cissie is an Olympic gold medalist, and she's been shooting arrows since before she could read. It shows. The arrows cluster tightly together on the side of the cabin as she shoots. It's a sight, but she's too focused and living in-the-moment to notice if anyone is watching her.
Her time here, in the Wood, is the longest Cissie has ever gone without her archery, and she may have been telling herself it didn't matter, but it does. Archery brings her focus. It calms her, gives her time to clear her head and think, and drawing a bow is as familiar as walking. She's missed it terribly, even as she's tried not to. The moment she picks up her bow, she feels calmer.
Cissie needs her archery, and especially needs it now. Her bow fits in her hands as if made for her, and her gear is worn in just the right spots. She takes them to a corner of the barracks where she might have some privacy, and decides to use the side of an empty cabin in lieu of a target. She shoots until she's out of arrows, then she collects them from the wall and starts all over again. And a third time. When she's shooting, it's just her and her bow and the arrow, going precisely where she tells it to. There's no Tim going missing and showing up during the storm, there's no White Eyed Men or magic immoveable rings, there's no being another person with different memories or being stuck here in dangerous magic woods with highly inappropriate, uncomfortable boots.
Cissie is an Olympic gold medalist, and she's been shooting arrows since before she could read. It shows. The arrows cluster tightly together on the side of the cabin as she shoots. It's a sight, but she's too focused and living in-the-moment to notice if anyone is watching her.