Secret Name

This is my bow, it has a secret name know only to it's maker. There is not a deer that it could not slay, no pheasant that it could not knock from the air, but it's owner has too soft a heart and casts arrows only at stumps in the field or targets on the range.

It is smooth and fluid in it's function. When you cock the arrow and draw the string, it feels as if you hold your arm against the current of a powerful river. Upon release, the string sings a whisper song of purpose. The arrow's flat trajectory closes the distance to the target in an instant.

This is my bow, it has a secret name known only to me.