[She notices. Notices the relaxation in posture. Though she's certain that the girl could be tense and ready to strike again in a moment's need, she'll accept the offering. Because she can be ready to strike again, just as quickly.
The angle of the arrow is shifted. Just enough so that it's clear that it's no longer Clove she's aiming out. And while the notch of the arrow remains hooked in the string, the bowstring is no longer as taut.
And she nods. An acknowledgement of Clove's words. No being smug. No being superior. Why would she? It's a cruel game. Maybe even crueler than the last they had been forced to play.
no subject
The angle of the arrow is shifted. Just enough so that it's clear that it's no longer Clove she's aiming out. And while the notch of the arrow remains hooked in the string, the bowstring is no longer as taut.
And she nods. An acknowledgement of Clove's words. No being smug. No being superior. Why would she? It's a cruel game. Maybe even crueler than the last they had been forced to play.
So, just a warning:] Get used to it.