Narrowing her eyes, Swift Cloud gazed in all directions available to her. Something within her screamed out that there were things amiss, but she could not put her finger on it. Still, she could lay her hands on her bow and she did so without hesitation. An arrow was knocked into the bowstring almost without a second thought, even as she balanced herself upon the warhorse behind her brother. Winter Fox's tutelege had paid off handsomely. She could almost hear his gravelly voice in her ears now.<br/><br/><em>"You are not simply on the saddle. You are one with your mount. You are a single creature. You will act as one. The bow in your hand, by the same token, is not merely a tool. It is part of you. It is an extensinon of your will and you will exercise it accordingly Does the bird think before it takes flight? Does the fish think as it passes water through its gills? No, and so you shall not pause to consider the act of drawing your bow. It should be natural. As natural as breathing..."</em>