It was true that all elves were excellent archers. Every fantastical being on Earth and the mystical realms was aware of the elves' inherent prowess with a bow.

But if any elf could prove conventional wisdom wrong, it was Bough.

She skipped onto the archery practice field—late, as usual—and tripped over a divot in the grass. Petrichor resisted the urge to rub her temples and groan at the sight of one of her students sprawled on the ground in such an ungainly way. It wouldn't be befitting of the archery teacher to show exasperation over one of her students. One would think, though, that after tripping over the same hole every day this week, Bough would figure out how to avoid it.

"It's okay. I'm okay. I'm here!" announced Bough, taking up her bow. She had carried in a quiver of practice arrows, and she now slipped them on haphazardly. At least her readying stance was the same as everyone else's. The rest of Petrichor's students had been in position for ten minutes. Thank goodness for the patience of elves.

"Straight shots first," Petrichor instructed. If her students couldn't shoot a target straight in front of them, they had no hope of completing their task. She counted them off, one by one, watching as each shot the target dead center, even Bough. That was encouraging.

But that was far from the most important shot these young elves would be expected to make. Working in unison was a key element to their task, so she called for them to perform together. Her gaze was perpendicular to her students, so each bow should be lined up to give the illusion that she was looking at only one, instead of seven. She kept her voice steady as she said, "Bough, take a step forward." The elf had fallen back, her bow slightly behind the others. Bough shuffled forward, matching her bow with the rest of her team's.

Petrichor was dreading the final test today, but she wouldn't reveal her nerves to her students. Of all the elves she had ever taught, she'd never had a student as tricky as Bough. Never in her ancient life had she met an elf so ill-equipped to be part of the Rainbow Connection. And for Bough to be assigned to green—the color that held both sides of the rainbow together—surely, that was someone's idea of a joke. Bough must have some high elf for a parent, one who didn't care about her actual skills as long as she had a prominent part of the spectrum.

Her students' stances were good, and they were finally aligned, so Petrichor called, "Nock."

Petrichor reminded herself that it would be demoralizing for her students if she were to slap her face with her palm. "Draw," she said, not a hint of stress in her voice. She hadn't been a teacher for centuries for nothing.

The unit drew together. "Aim." Their chance to make sure they were firing to the correct spot. "Fire."

Phew, all the bowstrings said together, as if they'd been as concerned as she was. But all the shots were center. She chose to ignore the split-second Bough had been behind in the release. It wouldn't be noticeable in the real world.

"Excellent," she said. "Now, the arc shot."

Most of the crew seemed unconcerned, but she noticed Bough wrapping and unwrapping the string of her bow around her finger. It was only a practice bow, but Petrichor would prefer that she didn't break it. "Bough, can I see you before the next shot? Everyone else, water break."

Bough blushed again but dutifully joined her while the others were occupied.

"Let's fix your quiver." She adjusted the strap so the quiver fit better. No wonder it was so awkward on the girl. This was made for a grown elf, not one so young. "Whose quiver is this?"

"It's my da's," said Bough. "He was always the center of the rainbow, and he wants me to carry on the tradition. Said the quiver would bring me luck! But..." She glanced at her team. "I don't know if I'm cut out for this. I'd rather be a fall leaf painter. Green's never been my thing, you know? I think I’d be better as red or yellow... Less pressure."

"Red has its own pressure," Petrichor pointed out, considering the positions in the rainbow. Every color, of course, was important, blending from one to the next, but if Bough could move over one position to yellow—a fall-leaf color—she’d neither be the center nor the side of the rainbow. Maybe, if she wasn't happy being green, she'd take more pride in yellow. And, most importantly, she'd step out of the shadow of her father.

Petrichor made a decision. "Team, we're going to be movin' right along. Come to me, and I'll hand you your rainbow bows."

Each student approached, and she handed out the bows. Red to Birdie, Violet to Orchid, Orange to Sunshine, Indigo to Mistletoe, Blue to Marigold. When she pulled out the green bow, Bough held out her hands to receive it, but Petrichor shook her head. "Raindrop, you're moving to green."

A smile shone on Raindrop's face that certainly had never been there when she'd been practicing in the yellow position. Perhaps, thought Petrichor, they should let the young elves have a say in what colors they shot, instead of allowing the council to assign them. Raindrop could see how green was as fundamental as the grass under their feet, even if it wasn't as flashy as the yellow of sunlight.

After Petrichor handed Bough the yellow bow, each elf received their rainbow arrows, replacing the practice arrows in their quivers. But for Bough, Petrichor held off. "Give this a try." She helped Bough out of the old quiver and into a new one, cinching the strap so it fit around her shoulder. "And I have one piece of advice for you for today. Practicing is important, but this is the most important thing to remember." She bent to Bough's ear and whispered the advice.

Petrichor watched her students take their places in front of the council. Bough still tripped on her way to her position, but once there, she was lined up with the rest. She held her body more confidently as she grasped her yellow bow and moved into the stance they were all to take.

"Nock." It was the head of the high council, Pine, who gave the orders. He eyed the group, frowning when he spotted Bough. But Bough drew her arrow perfectly and nocked it in the yellow bow. Petrichor was momentarily confused...before realizing who Bough's "da" was.

It broke decorum, but Bough ran over to Petrichor, bouncing in place. "You were right. It worked."

"Of course, it did. It always has."

Bough joined the rest of the class as they went through the ceremony that would advance them to the Rainbow Connection team, filling the world with color under the right weather circumstances.

It's most important to believe you can do it, Petrichor had told Bough. In the end, rainbows are only illusions, anyway. It's our job to believe them into being.

Believing in her students had always worked before. After all, by the time she was done with them, it was true that all elves were excellent archers.