Sunshine Kids (Apollo Cabin Oneshots)

the archer

Kayla rubbed her wrist, trying to massage the pain away. It had been building steadily over the past few days, but it was still manageable and that was what mattered. As long as she could continue shooting, she could handle a small amount of discomfort. Pain was part of success, after all– no one knew that more than her. There were permanent bowstring scars on her forearms and cheeks, but she liked them. They marked her as an archer.

A finicky wrist that almost felt like it popped out of place every time she twisted it was similar, she told herself, even when it went cold or started tingling. If it was overfatigued and just overused, then it would right itself after a few days of easier practicing.

She wrapped a piece of sports tape around it, as tight as she could without cutting her circulation. It was enough to provide some structure to her wrist, to keep it from moving far too much. And she went straight back to practicing. Her arrows slipped out of her quiver smoothly, fitted neatly against the string, and always struck true. Kayla had done what no archers had ever succeeded in accomplishing before:

Every shot she hit was a bullseye. For most archers, achieving that would mean they never practiced another day in their lives. Kayla was determined to keep practicing, until it became so much second nature that she didn't even have to aim to strike true. She was good enough for the Olympics, and as soon as she was old enough, she would win gold, but there was more to her archery than mortal goals.

It was all that stood between her and death by a monster. For demigods, death was defied constantly only because they could skillfully wield their weapons. And for a demigod like Kayla, with no other real powers, archery was her lifeline. The only thing protecting her.

A finicky wrist wasn't allowed to get in the way of that.

The next day, she wrapped it in tape again and added a compression sleeve she nicked from the infirmary. It was hurting more this morning, but it was still easily ignored, as long as she reminded herself that she'd survived worse pain than that. After practice, she wrapped an ice pack around it in the quiet of her room, wondering if she should ask Will about it.

Will would probably tell her to take a few weeks off her archery. That was enough to scare her away. She couldn't stop shooting. She needed it. Dodona had only happened a few weeks ago (and she knew she'd been training more and harder since it happened, which had probably led to her current predicament) but all of it was justifiable.
There was another war coming. Everyone knew it. Kayla had survived two through her ability to lead archers, but every fight, their force became smaller. The largest cabin was now one of the smallest, and there weren't enough archers anymore. Every fight, she was in more danger because she had to risk more, fight more monsters to make up for their weaker force.

She'd survived two wars through her training, but she needed even more to survive a third. Once it was over, she would let her wrist heal. Rest. Probably- unless another quest appeared out of nowhere (and she knew it would).

On the third day, Kayla barely restrained tears during practice. Her wrist shouldn't hurt this much- shouldn't be stopping her from doing what she loved. It felt unbelievably cruel.

"Haven't I lost enough already?" She whispered angrily, forcing herself to keep pulling the string, urging herself to find the joy and escape that was always present in her shooting.

Like Will's healing and his time in the infirmary, her skill had become a crutch, a small ray of complex joy, a constant in her life when there were so few. A comforting routine.

"Are you going to take this away from me, too?"

The ice pack didn't help that night, not enough. She bit her bottom lip, curled under her covers and cradling her wrist, trying to stop the tears. There were moments she had felt before: utter loss and despair. And this hurt just as much as those moments. Archery was such an integral part of her identity and now the irrational fear that she would never be able to do it again had gripped her.

What if it is rational, she thought to herself. It could be any number of things that were causing her pain. Tendonitis healed. Carpal tunnel did not. Kayla didn't know enough about the intricacies of wrists to be able to tell what she had. She was scared to find out, but now, when practice tomorrow seemed like an impossibility, Kayla thought it might be better to know.

At least then, she could try and cope with it.

She shuffled to Will's room. Hesitated, before knocking softly.

"Will?" She asked.

He opened the door, rubbing his hair with a towel. He'd just finished a long day in the infirmary and was enjoying his first shower in a few days. It had been a cold one, because Austin had already managed to drain their heater, but any shower was good enough for Will at that point.

"What's up, Kayls?" He smiled, gesturing with his head for her to come in. "Sorry for missing dinner, by the way. I promise I ate in the infirmary. Nico brought me some pasta."

"That's okay," Kayla said absently. "Will-"

His smile dropped. Kayla was rarely cautious when talking to him. She somehow managed to convey even the worst news to him without flinching or her voice breaking. He loved her for it, but that meant that her stopping and hesitating was a bad sign. Will dropped his towel onto his bed and crouched down to eye-level.

"What's up, Kayla?" He repeated himself.

"Can you check my wrist?" She asked.

Will frowned. That was it? That wasn't something that would get Kayla this– terrified? Hurt? He couldn't place her emotion.

"Sure," he said easily. "What's wrong?"

"It won't stop hurting." She was close to tears again. Will pulled her in for a hug, the realizaiton hitting him. She was cradling her right hand against her body– her shooting hand. He knew how much archery mattered to her. He knew what a permanent injury to her wrist might mean for her. He knew how much it would break her.
Suddenly, her broken voice made sense. It was bad, whatever was hurting her wrist. Enough to make her think she might have to stop shooting (and Kayla knew sports, and knew limits, and she always pushed herself beyond them, but if this was one she could not push through...)

"Let me see," he said softly. "It's probably nothing permanent," he added quickly, hoping to alleviate some of her worry.

And even if it is, he added to himself, I'll harass dad until he fixes it for you.