The shop is a caravan fletcher's wagon parked in the Camp District of Triel. Its dark, weatherproof canvas tent is pitched tight against the wagon's side, with one patched awning stretched over a narrow counter and workbench. A faded painted sign shows a white-feathered arrow, though rain has worn away most of the lettering. Bows hang from pegs beneath the awning; bundles of shafts are lashed to the wagon rails, and a strip of bright cloth marks the entrance so travelers do not blunder into the guy ropes after dusk. Inside, the canvas smells of wax, damp wood, and feathers. A handbell hangs near the rear flap on a thin cord, and the cramped floor is kept clear of trip hazards with deliberate care. The locals call the wagon Bow-End, an old shortening of 'the bow at the end of the line.' The owner, Tepka, is a human fletcher with close-cropped dark hair and nimble, nick-scarred fingers. Tepka speaks little while working, but tests every bowstring with a soft pluck before handing it over. The caravan moves on when the district's trade shifts, so stock is practical, compact, and chosen to survive rough roads.