"Better believe I am," Will agreed bluffly. "Mightiest Will in all of Nottingham. You remember that one for the book." Famous last words, probably, but Clio's encouragements – and enticements – were lighting a fire under his ambition. He settled his shoulders, returning his focus to the bow.
Drawing a longbow of this size took more than strength; it required technique. It wasn't just a matter of pulling back the bowstring, you had to press the full weight of your body into it, pushing the bowstaff away from you while simultaneously drawing the string towards you. Little wonder that every muscle in his back had been stiff and aching these past couple of weeks, since he'd started prepping in earnest.
Will slowed his breath, adjusted his footing, and drew.
He didn't manage a full draw. He wasn't there yet. But even though his muscles gave out just before his hand came even with his chin, when he released the string and turned back to Clio, he was grinning. "Now, that was worth at least a tit, don't you reckon?"