Ash rolled away as soon as victory had been assured, putting some respectful personal space between them- after all, they had only just met. But he laughed, and dropped back onto the grass, breathing heavily to try and get some oxygen back into his body. The air was hot and heavy like a blanket over him, and he shut his eyes against the sun’s glare.
“Good form,” he said between puffs, magnanimous in victory. “Almost missed ye.” He sat up then, turning the arrow over in his hands, and looked across at Matthew. Surely they were friends now, right? One didn’t just have impromptu foot races against people who would just walk away and not look back. He held out a hand, offering a firm handshake, because that’s what his father’s friends would do.