“Get down!” Avery shouted, throwing an arm across Noah’s back. She felt Shane’s arm land on top of hers and they both pulled Noah to the ground.

A moment later, razor sharp feathers flew over their heads.

“This isn’t good.” Shane drew his sword and used it to deflect a feather. “We’re sitting ducks.” He shifted to cover Noah more thoroughly.

Avery glared at him. “That isn’t funny.” She didn’t like that he had so effortlessly taken her job as Noah’s protector.

“I wasn’t trying to be.” Shane winced as a feather sliced his arm. “You’ve got a bow. Hurry up and use it.”

Dread filled Avery, but she covered it with another glare. “Fine.” She grabbed her bow and rolled to her feet. Reaching over her shoulder, she grasped an arrow and nocked it.

She had half a second to wonder what she was doing before a bird flew at her. Its talons were spread wide, ready to tear her to shreds. It opened its bronze beak and let out a piercing caw.

Avery let the arrow fly.

The arrow sliced through the air, going straight down the Stymphalian bird’s throat. The bird made a choking sound before falling from the sky. The fletching on the arrow stuck out of its beak like a colourful regurgitation.

A deafening cry of outrage rose from the rest of the birds. More of them swooped from the air to attack with talons while a fresh barrage of feathers sailed at Shane and Noah.

“Avery!” Shane yelled, barely managing to deflect a feather away from Noah’s face.

“I’m working on it.” She snapped at him. She’d like to see him try shooting birds out of the air. She could hardly believe she had done it.

The next time she reached for an arrow, her hand closed around three shafts. Without time to choose just one, she nocked all three at once. The shot would probably fail miserably, wasting the arrows.

She loosed them and three birds fell, all dead.

“You see that?” She yelled excitedly. She grabbed three more arrows. “I’ll kill every last one of you stupid pigeons!”

The birds cawed, but several of them flapped wildly and flew away. It would seem even monstrous hunks of flying metal had self preservation instincts. Who knew?

Avery killed the last few brave birds and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“Are they all gone?” Noah asked. Avery turned to see Shane helping him to his feet.

“Looks like it.” Shane sheathed his sword. Avery noticed that he had scratches all over his arms, while Noah appeared uninjured. She silently thanked him.

Then he turned to her and raised an eyebrow. “You know you’re holding that wrong, right?” He mimed passing something from one hand to the other.

“What?” Avery looked at the bow in her right hand. She frowned at Shane. “How would you even know?”

He shrugged casually. “I used one as a prop during a photoshoot once. They showed me how to hold it properly.”

Avery rolled her eyes. Of course the son of Aphrodite did photoshoots. She shouldn’t be surprised.

She passed the bow to her left hand. Frowning, she went through the motions of drawing an arrow and taking aim. The whole process felt clunky and unnatural. She immediately returned the bow to her right hand and glared at Shane.

Shane was brushing dirt off Noah. Avery watched him use his left hand to keep Noah steady while his right hand moved over his arms and shoulders. Avery would have done it the other way around.

Then she realized why that was. “I’m left handed, you artichoke!”

Noah snickered, but Shane gave her a confused look. “Artichoke?”

Avery flushed with embarrassment. Her mom hated swearing and name-calling. She had always reprimanded Avery for using harsh or lewd language in front of Noah, so she had started using dumb replacement words when she got mad. Apparently, the habit was so ingrained that her mom didn’t have to be around for her to default to them.

“Shut up.” Avery turned away and busied herself by gathering any arrows that she thought she might be able to use again.

In her frustrated embarrassment, she grabbed at a bird and sliced her thumb on its wing. She winced and drew back.

“Careful.” Shane knelt beside her and pulled a bandage and disinfectant spray from their supplies. “Those feathers are wicked sharp.”

“I know.” Avery took the supplies and tended the wound herself. She angrily kicked the carcass, ignoring the arrow still in it.

Then she got an idea.

“Help me gather the feathers.” She ordered Shane.

“Why?”

Avery grinned. “I’m going to make new arrows.”