"Deep breath. Steady, now," Bayard Mordigan instructed.

Nathaniel followed his father's instructions. With all his might, he pulled back on the bowstring. He grunted under the strain.

"That's it, son. Now...feel your back muscles engage," he said, using his thick finger to trace around the boy's shoulder, down to the young muscles along his spine.

"Okay, Poppa," said Nathaniel, his arms beginning to tremble. Concentrating hard, his eyebrows curled into a scowl and he pressed his lips together, trying to mask the challenge posed by the tension in the string.

"He's not gonna do it," said Morgan, Nathaniel's younger sister, sitting on a nearby tree stump.

"Quiet you!" scorned Nathaniel.

Morgan raised her eyebrows and tossed her frayed blonde hair over her shoulder. "It's too strong," she insisted. "The bow."

"Morgan," warned Bayard, stifling a laugh. "You keep to yourself when it's your brother's turn, just as he'll keep to himself when it's yours."

The young girl pursed her lips. "Okay," she whispered reluctantly.

Nathaniel gritted his teeth, struggling under the force of the bow.

"That's it, boy. You're doing fine." Bayard moved directly behind Nathaniel. "Now," he said pointing, "look directly down the length of the arrow and aim slightly higher than where you intend it to go."

The boy closed his left eye, and with his right, aligned the arrow with the target - a bale of hay not far off. Morgan began to hum.

"Quit that!" yelled Nathaniel.

Bayard shushed the girl. "Quiet, now," he whispered.

Overhead a large crow squawked as it departed a high branch in an old oak tree, startling Nathaniel and he released the arrow clumsily. It pierced a sapling well short of the target. Morgan waved at the bird as it flew off.

"Aw, rats!" hollered Nathaniel, slamming the bow to the ground. He kicked the ground with his boot.

"At least you hit something this time," said Morgan.

Bayard rested his large hands on the boy's shoulders. "Don't get so frustrated, Nathaniel. It takes time to learn to shoot. You'll get it. I'm sure of it."

"Yes, Poppa. Sorry."

Bayard pulled him close and squeezed him. With a firm pat on the back, he said, "Go again."

Nathaniel smiled as Bayard tousled his chestnut hair. He picked up the bow and readied another arrow.

"You can do it Nathaniel!" chirped Morgan.

"That's my girl," said Bayard. "Now, let's watch."

Nathaniel arched his back and pulled the string taut. He aligned the arrow with the target.

Bayard stood nearby, bent over with his hands on his knees. "Deep breath, now."

Nathaniel inhaled. Morgan quietly mimicked him.

"And hold it."

The boy held his breath. Morgan did too.

"And...release."

Nathaniel opened his hand wide and let the arrow fly. It zipped through the air and struck the bale of hay with a soft THUP.

"There you go, my boy!" bellowed Bayard, with his hands raised.

Morgan jumped up and down in celebration. "Hooray for Nathaniel!"

Nathaniel grinned. "That felt good," he said.

"It looked good!" shouted a man nearby.

Bayard, Nathaniel and Morgan spun around to see their uncle standing just behind them. "Uncle Garrin!" cried Morgan.

Garrin walked over to them and picked up Morgan, throwing her into the air as she giggled. He caught her and turned to Nathaniel, rested his hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Quite a shot there, Nathaniel."

The boy smiled and looked up at his beaming father and then back toward his uncle. "Thank you, Uncle."

"My turn! My turn!" said Morgan, bopping around in Garrin's arms. He set her on the ground, and she raced off to grab her bow.

"Brother," said Garrin to Bayard. "A word with you."

Bayard nodded. "Just a moment, Morgan."

"Aw, but-"

Bayard raised his eyebrows. "Run along now, miss. We'll shoot later."

"I'll take her with me, father," said Nathaniel. He turned to Morgan. "Come along, you."

"Okay, okay." She dropped the bow and the two ran off.

When the children were out of earshot, Garrin spoke. "You know anything about the rider that entered town just before dawn."

Bayard's brow furrowed and rested his fists on his hips. "No. What of it?"

"I might not have known myself were it not for Sally's sneaking out of the cabin to get a look at him. A young boy. From the north."

"Linden?" asked Bayard.

Garrin shook his head. "Belmeade."

"Belmeade!"

"Appeared so." Garrin looked around to be sure the children hadn't returned. "He was met by the mayor and a few guards and taken away."

"Strange."

"Hasn't been anyone from that kingdom in Lush Acres in ages, as far as I know."

"Must've been urgent news for him to have ridden so far."

"Yes." Garrin crossed his arms. "It is a troublesome event. Surely others in town must have noticed. It should have been addressed by the mayor first thing this morning. Maybe he'll do so at the meeting this evening."

"Humph," grumbled Bayard, looking away in disgust. "Irresponsible fool, he is."

Garrin stared at Nathaniel's bow and arrows leaning against a nearby tree and it triggered an idea. "I think we should organize a night watch."

Bayard nodded. "With or without the mayor's consent."