“I only tried to help,” I offered, finally getting exasperated of her manner.

She looked a little taken aback, but then continued firing in her professional manner.

I turned back, and felt slightly elated when I hit a bull’s eye.

I looked over to Lin’s; she had at least four or more in the bull’s eye or inner circle.

I growled when I turned back to my bow.

I drew back the string, feeling the vibration on my vambrace as I released.

I was never good enough – never talented enough, never skilled enough.

When I was small, I was often asked if Lin was in my family.

Once we had been taken to the outskirts of the city, out into the countryside to help the elderly with their crop picking.

When I was done helping, an old lady turned to me and told me something I’d never forget.

“You should be more like your older sister – look at how she’s helping the farmers.”

But back then, we were both friends, naive and young.

Now things were different.

Now, no matter how hard I delved, all I found was resent.