Free The Hunter's Moon (The Secret Warrior Series) by Beth Trissel Page A

Nine
    Mastering Archery—or Not
    Morgan’s arrow zinged out of sight. “Crap. Where’d it go this time?”
    Afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of orange and yellow leaves, but she couldn’t blame blinding light for her pathetic miss. Hawkeye Jimmy hit the center of the circle on his last shot. Her arrow had bypassed the target entirely. Again.
    Lips twitching, Hawthorne pointed overhead. “There.”
    “How the heck?” She craned her neck to glimpse the feathered projectile in the tree. Only the few remaining shreds of dignity kept her from hurling the bow after it and pitching a complete fit.
    “I’ll go, Morgan.” Jimmy had lived with her long enough to recognize the warning signs of an impending meltdown.
    Not only was the kid fetching her arrow, but making a speedy getaway. If the other two were smart, they’d do the same. She wanted to break something.
    “Back in a nanosecond.” Propping his smaller bow against the silvery-barked sycamore, Jimmy sprang up and grabbed the lowest branch. He scrambled onto that limb, and reached for the next.
    Jackson gave a low whistle. “You’re scaling that tree like Spiderman , Jimbo.”
    “Yeah. He’s a natural at everything,” Morgan muttered.
    “You’ll catch on. It’s only your second day at archery.” Jackson squeezed her shoulder.
    She shrugged his hand off. “No one could possibly be this bad without trying to fail.”
    After hours spent in these trees, with only short meal breaks and a night’s rest before they were back at it again, she was no nearer to mastering the sport—or, in her case, a potentially lifesaving skill. All this time with a hot guy, two, if she counted Hawthorne, and for what? All she’d accomplished was making a fool of herself. That much, she’d done quite well.
    Hang it all . She’d rather give up and go eat supper, even caught the whiff of something delicious on the breeze. But Jackson had knocked himself out trying to coach her, and Hawthorne had lent support when he wasn’t smothering a smirk.
    “Sorry, Jackson. It’s not your fault I’m abysmal at this. I appreciate your efforts. But I don’t have the luxury of time. None of us do, if we’re readying for battle with the Panteras. Face it, I’m not the next Katniss Everdeen.”
    “Nope,” he admitted. “We’d have heard the cannon boom for you by now.” Indicating her demise.
    “However, no one in The Hunger Games was a werewolf,” Hawthorne added. “Gives you a distinct advantage.”
    “Right. Just aim me at the Panteras and fire away.”
    A thoughtful look in his hazel eyes, Hawthorne considered. “That might actually work, if you’re as badass as they say.” He hadn’t yet glimpsed her inner beast.
    “Oh, I am. Like a newbie on Teen Wolf . The worst ever.”
    Hawthorne grinned. “Well, fix this in your wolf brain. Wapicoli good. Panteras bad ,” he emphasized, patting his chest, Tarzan style. The leather vest he wore over a long-sleeved white Henley shirt was similar to Jackson’s attire.
    “And don’t believe all you see about werewolves on TV. Wapicoli are unique,” Jackson cautioned.
    “Guess so, if you originally came from the Star People. I saw a werewolf, or a creature resembling it, on Monster Quest once.”
    Hawthorne rolled his eyes. “That show only gets a kernel of the story right. Jackson and I have laptops and internet access. For a hoot, we watch old episodes.”
    “Really?” She perked up a little. “I haven’t had the time or energy to ask about PC’s. Good to hear you’re on the net.”
    “Unofficially,” Jackson amended. “Hawthorne can hack Wi-Fi and any other signal floating around.”
    Arrow in hand, Jimmy sprang to the leafy ground. “A computer geek? Awesome. Me too.”
    “Yeah. Who knew? Now there are two of you.” Morgan slid the arrow into her quiver. “What about the other Wapicoli?”
    “The older ones want nothing to do with new ways. They stick to tradition.” Jackson peered at the lodge,