Ruda

Ruda nocked another arrow, the motion so practiced it was muscle, not thought. The freezing winds of The Great Panda City did little to steady their hand, but it wasn't the cold making them tremble. It was memory. The younger trainees watched, some with pity, others with scorn for the 'old one' who still wore the green bow of a novice. They didn't know Ruda had once worn the master's crimson sash. They hadn't been there when Ruda's own squad, their proteges, had walked into an ambush Ruda swore was a safe path. Ruda had read every map, analyzed every report. But one detail, one whisper of a changed patrol, was missed. They were the only survivor. The Panda Council offered clemency. Ruda refused, choosing this penance instead. The arrow flew true, striking the absolute center. A perfect shot. It brought no satisfaction at all.