She reminded us of a mother bear.  Standing over those two little kids, almost daring us to come and take them from her.  We would do it, all right.

The arrows flying at us started to come with their tips already stained with blood.  We couldn’t figure it out until we finally stood over the body.  The shots had never stopped coming, but her quiver lay empty on her back.

She’d shot at us with our own arrows, pulled from her bleeding wounds.  Whatever else you could say about her, you had to admire her tenacity.  She was a fighter.

--

Another one-off.  No idea of the context, the identity or motivation of any of the characters, or the eventual outcome of the situation.  I just like archery, and the story sort of unfolded from there.