Sunlight blazed over a riverbank near Hastinapura, the Ganga's waters sparkling like a sheet of polished silver under a cloudless sky. Fish leapt in shimmering arcs, their scales catching the light, while birds darted overhead, their wings slicing through the warm air with sharp cries. A gentle breeze rustled the tall grasses along the shore, carrying the fresh scent of water and earth, and deer grazed in the distance, their heads lifting now and then to scan the trees. The riverbank stretched wide and alive, a vibrant stage buzzing with motion, waiting to challenge the princes' skill.
Drona stood at the water's edge, his lean frame steady against the breeze, his tattered white robes rippling faintly in the sun. His gray hair was tied back, and his dark eyes gleamed with a stern, expectant fire as he faced the Kuru princes. In one hand, he held his staff, its tip planted firm in the sandy soil; the other rested at his side, open and calm. The princes gathered around him, their tunics damp with sweat from the morning's march, their bows slung over their shoulders as they squinted into the bright glare off the river.
Bhima bounced on his heels, his massive frame casting a shadow over the grass, his broad grin flashing wide as he rubbed his hands together. "A river today, guru?" he said, his voice booming over the water, startling a bird into flight. "This is my kind of place! Fish, birds, deer? We hunting lunch or what?"
Drona turned to him, his expression calm but unyielding, his voice cutting through the breeze with steady force. "Not lunch, Bhima," he said, his tone deep and firm, quieting the riverbank for a moment. "Targets. Moving ones. Birds in the sky, fish in the water, deer on the shore. Precision matters here. Hit them clean, or don't bother."
Bhima's grin widened, his eyes lighting up as he cracked his knuckles with a loud pop. "Precision, huh?" he said, his tone bright and eager, grabbing his bow. "I'll hit something! Those fish won't know what's coming! Let's start!"
"Start when you're ready," Drona replied, stepping back with a nod, his staff tapping the ground. "But aim true. Misses waste arrows."
Arjuna moved up beside Bhima, his lean form quiet and graceful, his sandals sinking slightly into the sand. His tunic shimmered with river mist, his bow already in hand, and his dark eyes scanned the leaping fish with a steady focus. "Moving targets," he said, his voice soft but thrilled, glancing at Drona. "This is a real test, guru. Can we pick any?"
"Yes," Drona said, his gaze settling on Arjuna with a flicker of warmth. "Birds, fish, deer. Choose your mark. Make it perfect."
Nakula and Sahadeva slipped forward together, their lithe forms weaving through the grass, their twin grins flashing as they nocked arrows. "Birds for us," Nakula said, his voice quick and light, nudging his brother with an elbow. "Right, Sahadeva?"
"Definitely," Sahadeva replied, his tone swift and bright, eyeing the sky. "Fast ones too. Let's show them!"
Duryodhana strode up last, his chin high, his dark hair glinting in the sun as he gripped his bow tight. "Deer," he said, his voice low and edged with a grumble, his brow furrowing. "Something worth hitting. This better not be a waste."
"It's no waste if you aim right," Drona replied, his tone stern and sharp, meeting Duryodhana's scowl. "Go on."
The princes spread along the riverbank, their bows drawn, the air humming with the creak of wood and the rustle of feathers. Bhima lumbered to the water's edge, his massive frame towering over the shallows, his grin wide as he nocked an arrow. "Fish first!" he shouted, his voice ringing out, sending ripples across the surface. A silver fish leapt high, and he fired, his arrow splashing into the river with a loud plunk, missing by a yard. "Ha!" he said, laughing as he drew again. "Slippery little things! I'll get one yet!"
Drona watched from the bank, his staff tapping steadily, his voice carrying over the splash. "Steady it, Bhima! Watch their rhythm, not just their jump."
"Rhythm?" Bhima said, chuckling as he fired again, the arrow sinking into the water with another plunk. "They're too fast for rhythm! I'll just keep shooting till one sticks!" He loosed a third shot, missing wide, and laughed louder, shaking his head. "This river's winning!"
Arjuna stood still, his bow drawn, his breath slow and even as he watched the fish leap. A big one arced high, its eye glinting in the sun, and he waited, his fingers steady on the string. "Now," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, loosing his shot. The arrow whistled through the air, piercing the fish's eye mid-leap with a clean thud, pinning it to the far bank. He smiled faintly, lowering his bow, and turned to Drona. "One," he said, his tone soft and calm, nocking another.
Drona's eyes widened, his voice warm with awe as he stepped closer. "One?" he said, his tone rising slightly, a rare crack in his calm. "Through the eye, mid-air? That's no ordinary shot, Arjuna. Keep going."
"Thanks," Arjuna said, his smile warm and quiet, turning back to the river. "I'll try another."
Nakula and Sahadeva danced along the shore, their movements quick and synced, their bows aimed at the sky. "There!" Nakula said, his voice low and excited, tracking a swift bird overhead. "High one!"
"Got it," Sahadeva replied, his tone swift and sure, loosing his shot as Nakula fired too. Their arrows streaked upward, one striking the bird's wing, the other its chest, and it tumbled into the grass with a soft thud. They grinned, bumping fists. "One down!" Nakula said, his eyes bright.
"More to go," Sahadeva added, his grin matching his twin's, nocking another arrow. "Let's make it two!"
Duryodhana stalked toward the grazing deer, his jaw clenched, his bow creaking as he drew it tight. "Slow beasts," he muttered, his voice a growl, aiming at a buck lifting its head. He fired, the arrow grazing its flank, and the deer bolted, vanishing into the trees. "Useless," he said, his tone sharp and bitter, drawing again. "This is harder than it looks."
"Harder's the point," Drona replied, his tone stern and steady, watching from the bank. "Adjust, Duryodhana. Hit it clean."
"Adjust?" Duryodhana said, his smirk twisting into a scowl, firing again at another deer. The arrow skimmed its leg, missing the mark, and he cursed under his breath. "Close enough," he said, his voice low and grudging, lowering his bow.
"Close isn't perfect," Drona said, his tone firm and unyielding, stepping toward him. "Try harder."
The riverbank buzzed with their efforts, the air thick with the whistle of arrows and the splash of water—Bhima's loud misses, Arjuna's silent precision, Nakula and Sahadeva's swift strikes, Duryodhana's grumbled grazes. Bhima waded into the shallows, his tunic soaked, his laugh echoing as he fired again. "Another miss!" he called, his voice loud and cheerful, the arrow plunking into the river. "These fish are mocking me! I'll catch one with my hands if I have to!"
"Arrows, Bhima," Drona said, his tone dry but patient, shaking his head. "Not hands."
"Arrows it is!" Bhima replied, grinning as he drew again, missing once more. "They're fast little devils!"
Arjuna struck a second fish, his arrow pinning it mid-leap, and then aimed skyward, hitting a bird with a clean shot. "Three," he said, his voice soft and steady, brushing sweat from his brow as he returned to Drona. "It's about timing."
"Timing and skill," Drona said, his pride clear, clapping Arjuna's shoulder. "That fish-eye shot's a legend already."
Nakula and Sahadeva tagged another bird, their arrows flying in perfect sync, and bounded over, their tunics flecked with grass. "Two!" Nakula said, his voice quick and triumphant, holding up two fingers. "Birds are ours!"
"Fast and clean," Sahadeva added, his tone bright and swift, nodding at his twin. "One more?"
"Make it quick," Drona said, his smile faint but warm, gesturing them on. "You're sharp today."
Duryodhana hit a deer at last, his arrow grazing its shoulder, and it stumbled before running off. "One," he said, his voice low and sharp, trudging back with a scowl. "Barely counts."
"Barely's not enough," Drona replied, his tone stern and steady, pointing him back. "Aim truer."
The sun climbed higher, the riverbank alive with their voices—Bhima's booming laughter, Arjuna's quiet focus, Nakula and Sahadeva's swift chatter, Duryodhana's sharp complaints. Drona called them in as the heat peaked, the grass littered with their shots, the river glinting bright.
"Enough," he said, his voice ringing clear, his staff tapping once, twice. "Arjuna, three—two fish, one bird, perfect shots. Nakula and Sahadeva, two birds, clean hits. Duryodhana, one graze on a deer. Bhima, none."
Bhima flopped onto the grass, his chest heaving, his grin wide as he wiped water from his face. "None again!" he said, his voice loud and cheerful, laughing through the sweat. "But I've got the river scared! That's my win!"
"Scaring's not winning," Drona said, his tone dry but fond, shaking his head. "Precision is. You'll get there."
Arjuna set his bow down, his breath steady, his smile warm and quiet. "It felt alive, guru," he said, his voice soft and honest, glancing at the river. "That fish shot was luck and focus."
"Luck?" Drona said, his tone warm and firm, stepping closer. "That was skill, Arjuna. A shot for the ages."
Nakula stretched, nudging Sahadeva with a grin. "Two's good," he said, his voice quick and light, brushing grass from his hands. "Birds are tricky!"
"Next time, three," Sahadeva replied, his tone bright and swift, mirroring his twin's stretch. "We'll catch Arjuna yet!"
Duryodhana crossed his arms, his scowl deep, his voice low and sharp. "One graze," he said, glaring at Arjuna. "That fish thing's a fluke. I'll top it."
"Try topping skill," Arjuna said, his voice calm and teasing, meeting Duryodhana's glare with a smile. "It's harder than luck."