Archer was struggling to lift his left hand for more than a minute. He needed it to hold his bow up. Frustrated he broke the wooden bow over his knee and tossed the pieces into the tree.
"That is the fifth one in ten minutes," Samson pointed out. "We might live in a forest, but I am afraid we will run out of trees before you can reel in your temper."
Archer kicked up the dust. "I can't do this."
"Can't is a word that a prince should not know," he picked up his bow and handed it to Archer. "I love this bow. If you break it, I will shatter your other wing."
Archer handed it back to him. "I like having a functioning limb. You better take this back."
"Archer, this can't be solved by a magic trick. You need to work hard," Samson pressed his fingers into Archer's wounded side.