He paused, before smirking. The idiot wasn't moving. He was standing still, facing forward, toward where he had last seen him. A rookie sniper mistake. You shot, and you moved. A rock by his hand was palmed, and he began carefully making his way around toward where he though the arrow had come from. He knew about how far the target was, a hundred fifty feet at most, due to the twang and arrow arriving quickly after the other. Slowly stalking forward, each foot carefully placed, using the hard corners of his boots to place his weight. No sound. He moved for about a minute, getting maybe half the distance, and then snagged another rock. He bounced it in the palm of his hand, carefully testing the weight, before doing the same to the second. He then carefully placed both rocks at his feet, before drawing his bow, and notching an arrow. He then picked both rocks up, and took a deep breath, forcing his body to release more adrenaline, settling himself.<br/><br/>A few seconds later, both rocks flew, one after the other, a short distance from him, about forty feet at most, slightly spaced. He waited until they hit, and then another two heartbeats, before stepping to the side, bow already drawn, the pulleys holding the tension of the string, making it effortless to maintain the draw. He sighted on the target, which should be turning to the noise, likely upright where the target would be able to monitor most of the surrounding area, good for preventing an ambush, but bad against feints. All he needed was a couple seconds of hesitation.