Who: Clint and Open What: Shooting practice Where: Island; Woods near the Barton-Stark house When: Friday, mid-day Open/Low
Clint stood still, eyes closed as he listened to the rustling in the woods around him. The sounds of thousands of creatures going on with their lives around him. He felt the wind against his cheek, adjusted his hand just slightly and loosed his arrow. He opened his eyes to see it sticking straight out the knot he'd been aiming for. He hadn't been shooting for a long time. He used to practice hours, every day. After the kids it wasn't as long, but he still went out daily, he needed to. But since the last big disappearance...he'd barely gone at all.
He hadn't had time to himself in a long while. Between AJ working the farm and Maryanne at the pub and then moving the island he wasn't on his own a lot, and usually when he was he was going back to the station, checking on Bucky and Stephanie. He'd been keeping an eye on him, discreetly adding food to his fridge and diapers to the baby's room so Bucky could get help without having to ask for it. But he'd decided that he needed some time. He was itchy and tense and he needed to get back to his bow before he started to fall back in to old (bad) habits. So he'd put everyone down for a nap and called Mary Ellen, asking her to come watch the kids and sent a text to check in with Bucky instead of visiting. Then, he wandered out in to the woods with his bow and quiver.
He wasn't really dressed for it, in just a soft, worn purple t-shirt and grey pair of sweatpants, barefoot. But he was comfortable enough. He loosed another arrow, this one taking a leaf off a tree and pinning it to another. He reached toward his hip to grab another arrow and realized they were all gone. With a soft sigh he slung his bow over his shoulder and started wandering, picking the arrows out of trees and bushes and from between stones. He climbed in to a tree to pull out his last one and of course his grip slipped just as he wrapped a hand around it. He fell down, landing flat on his back at the base of the tree, arrow in his non-traitorous hand.