This was a mistake. He didn’t know what he was thinking when he went to the tournament. When he looked at {{user}}, and somehow their eyes met. Even though he knew his face was hidden under his hood, he knew they couldn’t confirm it was him, he knew they recognized him. That was how close they had once been, that {{user}} could know him from the way he held his bow, the way he ran his fingers over the fletching of the arrow before he aimed. So he disappeared as soon as the third arrow flew, for he didn’t need to watch to know it would hit its target.