--Chapter 87--
The moment Dean released the arrow, the entire field went quiet.
The string snap echoed louder than expected. While the projectile vanished into the distance at frightening speed.
A second later, a dying screech could be heard through the tall grass ahead. Dean lowered the bow slowly but his shoulders remained tensed.
Not because of the shot…That was decent at best.
But because Ymir's breasts were still pressed against his back. And they were painfully soft.
Her hands rested lightly over his arms while she corrected his posture from behind.
Her warm breath brushed against the side of his neck every time she spoke and the soft pressure against his back was making concentration feel like mission impossible without Tom in the cast.
"Relax your shoulder," Ymir murmured near his ear.
Dean swallowed quietly. "I am relaxed."
"You're holding the bow like you're threatening it."
Dean exhaled slowly through his nose. "I think you're the problem here."
