She opened the box, her chest constricting as she ran her fingers over the hills and valleys etched on the bow. It was an exact replica of the one she had made for Oliver only sized a little bit smaller. Her her fingers curled against the cool metal, allowing it to warm to her touch before lifting it out of it’s bed.
Felicity planted her feet on the ground, listened to the beating of her heart. Twenty feet across the room were the new targets Roy had set up for himself. She loaded the arrow and slowly pulled the string taut. One breath. Two. The ghost of Olivers chest against her back, her heart beat syncing with his.
Ignoring the wave of grief that threaded to drown her, Felicity took one last steadying breath and released the arrow.
It was a quiet comfort, the thwick of the string, the wind whisling as the arrow sliced through air and finally the sound of metal coming home to concrete. Instinctively, she loaded the bow and shot the rest of her arrows in rapid succession. All of them hit their target. She hadn’t missed in a while.
No one knew of the hours she spent training at The Foundry. No one knew of sleepless days and nights slowly learning to master the salmon ladder and eventually her bow. No one knew her secret.
And if her plan had any hope for success it was going to stay that way.