The Daughter of Pericula

Darkness seeped into her misty eyes as she woke. She was up before the morning bell. Again. But, while most of the students would turn over and relish the precious moments of sleep they had left, this girl forced her eyes open. No matter how much it hurt, it would hurt less than what awaited her back in her dreams. And she didn't want to be trapped there any longer than she had to be.

The last dreams of her dead parents wafted through her mind before she shook her head to rid herself of them. She didn't want to see her mother's sparkling eyes or her father's mischievous smile. Not anymore. Seeing them in her mind, knowing that was all that's left, pulled at her stomach. Trying to forget may be painful, too, but it was just...easier.

So, she woke up before dawn to escape her dreams.

To escape her mind.

She bolted out of bed, careful not to wake her roommate, and slipped into her uniform. The red tunic swished around her belted brown pants as she turned for her matching, golden cape. Holding the corners of the cape, she unclasped her crossed arrow pin given to her when she declared her area of study. But she hesitated to secure her cape around her shoulders. For a moment, she fingered the pin with distain. The sight of the arrows made her remember. And remembering hurt much more than forgetting.

She gritted her teeth and angrily pushed the pin through the cape. But the force drove the needle into the tip of her finger. She wanted to cry out, but she would rather suffer much worse physical pain than wake her roommate and explain herself. But the grief and frustration in her heart along with the pinch of the needle in her hand brought tears to her eyes.

She refused to cry.

Even in a dark room alone, she would not allow herself.

After silently composing herself and forcing back her tears, she was ready to go. She took a deep breath and patted to the door. But as she walked back her bed, a brief shimmer on the table caught her eye. She knew this shimmer all too well, and she wanted nothing more than to ignore it. But something deep down inside her wouldn't let her ignore it. Not today.

Not her mother's favorite flower pin.

She reached out her shaking hand and shoved the pin in her pocket. If she had to carry it, at least it would be out of sight. And out of sight meant less painful, right? Maybe, but she still had to pause for a minute when she felt tears misting her eyes.

She forced the tears away before slipping out the door. She crept down the girls' living quarters, careful not to wake anyone, until she reached the outdoors. Darkness still covered the school, but the gray of dawn peeked through the clouds. But even in the dark, she knew her way around well enough.

She sprinted toward the armory building she spent every morning in. None of the professors knew about her early excursions, but the building was unlocked, so she assumed she was allowed in. Still, she hoped none of them found out. She wasn't afraid of getting into trouble – that didn't bother her. She just didn't want to explain herself...her weakness...to anyone. Especially adults she didn't trust.

When she reached the armory building, she opened the door and snuck in, heading straight for the archery wing. She knew every turn by memory, and in no time, she cracked the door open, lit a lantern, and crept to the locker with her initials "E.L.F." She quietly opened it and stared at the contents. Inside, a green quiver, embroidered with the same flowers as the pin and full of the standard white feathered arrows hung on a hook. Beside it stood a beautiful, wooden bow, engraved with fiery patterns.

Her heart dropped when she saw them. It did every time. She couldn't bear the sight of her father's bow and her mother's quiver. She wished she could train with a different weapon, but she knew that would be foolish. She'd learned to shoot before she could walk, and it would be a waste of talent not to pursue it. She felt tears prick her eyes, but she quickly forced them away again. One, single tear escaped, though, and dripped down her cheek to the ground. She sniffed as she angrily wiped her face. She couldn't have anyone see her like that. Crying was for the weak.