Bow and Sparrow

CH 20

"Where did you learn how to do that?"

Rylan looked at the target filled with my arrows, most of them concentrated around the center and first ring, and then back to his which closely mirrored mine except for a few lodged into the outer rings.

I didn't know how much I could tell Rylan, didn't know what I could risk before he would make the connection of my heritage, but there was something disarming in the way he looked at me in the pale moonlight and how easy he smiled when no one else was around. I settled for the simple truth.

"My uncle taught me."

"And your parents approved of that?"

"My father didn't at first, but he never stopped us."

"And your mother?"

"She died before then." What I didn't say -couldn't pass the lump that had lodged itself in my throat- was that archery helped me grieve her loss. It took my mind off of her absence and even though she never knew that side of me, I could always keep her close.

I reached for the next arrow in the quiver that was propped between us, but my hand closed around empty air. We walked towards the targets to retrieve our arrows.

"What about your parents?"

"What about them?" Rylan huffed as he pulled a stubborn arrow free.

"What are they like?" We walked back to the other end of the targets, with a fistful of arrows in each hand.

"My father was hard-nosed. We don't get along very well." Despite Rylan's smirk, the muscles in his shoulders tightened. "And my mother" -he paused- "She ran off when I was young, I don't remember much about her."

"I have a sister. My mother died giving birth to her so she doesn't know her. Sometimes I envy her. Maybe it would be easier if I didn't remember."

"I don't think so." Rylan shook his head, stashing his arrows in the quiver and taking my hand in his. "I think feeling it, feeling the pain, makes you who you are. Even when it hurts, it can make you stronger. Grief has a way of defining who you are and without it I think the world would be a cold, heartless place."

I thought about my mother and everything that had happened after she died. How likely I never would have picked up a bow. I used to struggle living life without my mother and now I couldn't imagine one without Ayla. I thought losing her was just another tragedy but now I could see how it has shaped me for the better. While I still missed her dearly, I was grateful. I never would've ended up here had we not moved to Dast, holding hands with the man that had saved my life. And when I stood on my tiptoes, brushing his hair from his forehead, I made sure to tell him that as our lips met as I tasted the salt from the tears on my cheeks and I held him close.

Humans are complicated and endure so much, but even then we are able to find the light in the dark.

_____

The cellar was empty, the stone walls bare. The house above creaked as a strong wind howled through the cracks. I felt the cold seep through my fingertips until I couldn't shake the chill that settled into my bones.

"Hello, little bird."

The door hung from broken hinges at an angle and a figure stepped into the cellar, a familiar silhouette that had to duck through the doorway. The slaver wore a sneer, and I realized with a start that he was covered in blood, streaks of it smeared across his face and his clothes. Wounds deep enough to kill a man visible through the slashes in his clothing.

"You're... you're supposed to be dead."

"Seems not." He wiped his bloody hands on his clothes but it only created a larger stain as he stalked towards me. I tried to step backwards, to the side, but my feet wouldn't obey and I stayed rooted in the center of the cellar. I looked around for something I could use to defend myself with but there was nothing. My fists clenched by my side, my nails digging into the palms of my hands.

"You've been a naughty little bird." He said as his footsteps echoed off the rough walls.

"You're not real."

"You took everything from me." The slaver spat as he circled me. I kept my eyes forward, afraid that if I looked into his soulless eyes that I would crumble. "And now I will take everything from you."

As he passed in front of my vision, flames licked the floor where his feet were until there was a scorching ring of fire surrounding me. Sweat beaded on my temple, running down the side of my face and into the collar of my shirt.

"You're not real." I repeated but there was very little strength behind my words. I squeezed my eyes shut but the blaze of the fire singed the hairs on my arms felt very real. I pressed my arms closer to my sides. Only when the flames licked my skin, did I open my eyes. The fire burned so bright that I could barely see the shadow behind the wall of flames and I could barely hear the sinister laughing over the blood pounding in my ears.

I sat upright, gasping for breath in a pool of my own sweat, as Rylan's cabin materialized around me. My palms were slick and my legs had gotten tangled in the blanket. I dropped my head in my hands as I tried to calm my racing heart.

"Are you alright?"

Rylan stood in the doorway, but for a moment, I saw someone else's silhouette.

"I'm fine." Lie - my hands won't stop shaking.

Rylan's bare feet padded through the bedroom across the worn rugs, until the bed dipped beside me as he pried my hands from my face, forcing me to look at him. He looked at me expectantly.

"They've been happening since you left and they just won't stop." I looked into his eyes, and they were almost black in the dark. "They're never the same. That's why I started sneaking out at night. It was the only way to get my mind off it."

I had a faint hope that once Rylan returned, the nightmares would stop. But whatever was causing them, I didn't know the reason.

Rylan still held my hands in his, brushing small circles on my wrists with the pad of his thumb. I gave his hand a small squeeze.

"I'll be fine."