Callynite
The forest felt the most like home to the little doe of a horse. There wasnt yet a thicket for her to grow most comfortable in yet; like the one she had lived in when she was in her home world: but she had hope to finding one. But today's exploration into this forest wasnt for that . . . Today she had a new goal in mind, that came from the gold and emerald bow strapped to the side of her empty satchel. A few arrows sat in thr quiver at her side, but she needed more. Needed to understand the art of what it would take to make more, get the feel for the gifted bow. She moved through the forest, eyes peeled for any useful twigs. As she found them, the items would glow green before being tucked into her satchel. Loose feathers were added to the bag, until she had a small supply of both. Only then did she begin searching for flimsy, bendy pieces of twigs.
A small pile was soon gathered, as well as a pile off odd shaped rocks. Laying down by the piles, Cally started on the flimsy pieces of twigs, stripping them of bark with her hoof, before chewing lightly on them with teeth to help make the fibrous twigs easier to use. As she did so, a rock was levitated and brought down on the edge of another rock with as much mental strength as the doe had, slowly chipping the rocks into the shape of an arrowhead.
The actions weren't going to create arrows quickly, though, and Cally worked with a patience and dedication that spoke of her having done this before. As the fibrous, flexible twigs were chewed into easily wrapped and knotted bits of vegetation, they were set aside and the arrowhead stone put in another pile. Any rocks found to be too flaky was quick to be tossed aside as not reliable, as were the tough rocks that didnt want to break. Once those piles were prepped the mare took to handling the arrows shafts (or twings) she had collected earlier, stripping them of bark, and make sure they would be thick and strong.
Only then did she start fastening the first arrow, using her mind magic to wrap and bind the arrowhead to the tip of the arrow, and sorting through the feathers to find black and white ones. Setting the colored versions aside, to be used later; the female finished binding all the pieces of the arrow together, repeating the process until all of the arrow head arrows where complete and in her quiver, arrowhead down. Afte, she used the rest of the binding, feathers and arrows to make blunter arrows by sharpening the edges of the twigs and branches and rounding out the tip, and binding the colorful feathers to the end to be able to tell them apart from the arrowheaded arrows.
Once done, it was time for Cally's favorite part . . . Using the bow. She stood, a green glow surrounding a single blunt arrow and bow and fell into a familiar motion of use. The bow was held steady in her magic, the string tug taunt and strong as the little deer-horse narrowed her eyes with the calm expression and stance of an experienced archer. Letting out a slow breath as her eyes steadied on the tree ahead of her, particularly a note on it; she let the arrow fly, followed by two more in quick concession, each hitting the mark one after another. A smile touched the face of the former druid as the familiar weapon once more tucked against the empty satchel strapped to her side. Feeling far more prepared, the tiny doe-like equine began to travel through the forest once more, her steps sure and her movements those of a practiced, veteran explorer.
"Speech"
A small pile was soon gathered, as well as a pile off odd shaped rocks. Laying down by the piles, Cally started on the flimsy pieces of twigs, stripping them of bark with her hoof, before chewing lightly on them with teeth to help make the fibrous twigs easier to use. As she did so, a rock was levitated and brought down on the edge of another rock with as much mental strength as the doe had, slowly chipping the rocks into the shape of an arrowhead.
The actions weren't going to create arrows quickly, though, and Cally worked with a patience and dedication that spoke of her having done this before. As the fibrous, flexible twigs were chewed into easily wrapped and knotted bits of vegetation, they were set aside and the arrowhead stone put in another pile. Any rocks found to be too flaky was quick to be tossed aside as not reliable, as were the tough rocks that didnt want to break. Once those piles were prepped the mare took to handling the arrows shafts (or twings) she had collected earlier, stripping them of bark, and make sure they would be thick and strong.
Only then did she start fastening the first arrow, using her mind magic to wrap and bind the arrowhead to the tip of the arrow, and sorting through the feathers to find black and white ones. Setting the colored versions aside, to be used later; the female finished binding all the pieces of the arrow together, repeating the process until all of the arrow head arrows where complete and in her quiver, arrowhead down. Afte, she used the rest of the binding, feathers and arrows to make blunter arrows by sharpening the edges of the twigs and branches and rounding out the tip, and binding the colorful feathers to the end to be able to tell them apart from the arrowheaded arrows.
Once done, it was time for Cally's favorite part . . . Using the bow. She stood, a green glow surrounding a single blunt arrow and bow and fell into a familiar motion of use. The bow was held steady in her magic, the string tug taunt and strong as the little deer-horse narrowed her eyes with the calm expression and stance of an experienced archer. Letting out a slow breath as her eyes steadied on the tree ahead of her, particularly a note on it; she let the arrow fly, followed by two more in quick concession, each hitting the mark one after another. A smile touched the face of the former druid as the familiar weapon once more tucked against the empty satchel strapped to her side. Feeling far more prepared, the tiny doe-like equine began to travel through the forest once more, her steps sure and her movements those of a practiced, veteran explorer.
"Speech"
