Writing Dare: Quiver of Arrows


I found a quiver of arrows in the forest. What the hell? It’s 2015.
I never learned archery, perhaps this was a sign from the fates to start. I stowed them in my messenger bag and searched around for any clues to the previous owner. Nothing.
I continued walking oblivious that someone was watching me. Discovering a clearing, I placed a blanket down next to a stream and started reading. Several pages in, I heard someone emerge from behind the trees.
“You have something that belongs to me.”
I handed them over, what an unusual way to make friends.

Story Bandit:

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