In the pitch-black great hall.
Black Gloves crouched on all fours, its dark red eyes looking toward the distant copper pot, its tail wrapped around a stone...
Aim!
Adjust the posture!
The tail tossed upward, flinging the wrapped stone... Fox Mountain mortar, fire!
Whoosh...
The stone traced a parabolic path.
Plop!
The stone landed, several meters away from the copper pot, rolling into the distance.
"Awooo!"
"Weee!"
"Weee!"
The fellow apprentices hopped and cheered, there was an extra melon, and one fewer melon to share!
Huh?
Missed?
Black Gloves drooped its face, set down its melon, and left dejectedly.
How could it miss?
It thought it was quite good at this sort of thing.
It turned back, seeing many melons left in the circle, but not many fellow apprentices. Those who succeeded in hitting the pot would each get about two melons.
