* * *
“Raise your arrow a little higher, my Son. You want it to hit the target, not the ground.” Letting go of the bowstring, the arrow flies through the air barely missing the target.
“Father, did that target move?” he said jokingly.
“Don’t worry, my Son, your aim is getting better. Yesterday you almost hit me!”
“Yesterday you looked like the target, Father.”
Loud laughter could be heard by all their tribe, as Evan and his father banter back and forth.