I shoot another arrow. My eyes narrow. I let out a breath. Another miss. For some reason, high tech guns are way easier. Why can't I get a grip? My arms are shaking. He looks at me dissapointingly.

"Hey, I used to do things with more tech." I say.

"You must focus. Your brain is scattered." He says.

"I'm doing my best." I hiss. 

"We need more." He says.

I roll my eyes. I pull back again.

"Move your arm up." He pushes my arm off.

I let out a breath. I fire again. No surprises it misses.

"Your re'o lu na a clouded yrrap." He says to me.

(Your head is like a clouded storm.)

"Oe lu trying." I say.

(I am trying.) 

I've gotten the hang of some of the language, but everything else is causing my head to spin. I want to back. I want to go home. I just want this to stop. I look down again. He puts his hand on my shoulder.

"Nga new tsonta kä txal kelku." He says.

(You want to go back home.)

"Yeah." I nod.

"I'm sorry, but this is your home now. You were chosen. It is fate that you can't avoid." He says.

"I know. I'm just terrified." I say.