Queen Of The Ventils

III

Slowly draw back the arrow, the Elder coached, surveying our every move. I tensed, praying to Eclipse that my stance was correct and I wouldn't have to suffer humiliation in front of everybody my age in the pack.

It was a fairly chilly afternoon, typical weather for the season of Winter in California. The flame-colored leaves had come and gone, and soon, it would get even colder. We were out in the Magno Prato--the Great Meadow--practicing our archery skills. This winter, food had been harder to come by. So, the elders decided to start training hunters even through the hunting season, instead of just before.

Letting the arrow fly, I hissed as it grazed my forearm, setting it on fire. My wrist guard had come loose and the inside of my arm was now red with pain. I looked to see where my arrow had landed, and sadly, it was embedded in a tree trunk several feet away from the target. Grumbling a curse to myself, I redid the leather straps on my guard and picked up another arrow.

This time around, it landed right in the middle of the target. Archery might have not been my strong suit, like magic or dancing was, but I was still good enough to keep the other people off my back. When the Elder signaled to go get our arrows, I jogged over to the base of the thick oak my arrow had landed in.

It was really buried in there, the flint head completely hidden within the tree. Grabbing the shaft below the goose feathers, I pulled hard, trying to dislodge it from the bark. Stubbornly, it didn't move. Not even a centimetre. I could feel the eyes of at least twenty adolescent Ventils watching me. Hoping, I suppose, that it would be really stuck and I would break it.

Good enchanted arrows were hard to come by. The whittlers, who made the bows and arrows, hexed them to follow their targets. They didn't always hit somewhere vital. In fact, they tended to have a mind of their own and just hit whatever was open to them. That was why we had to practice with them. We were really quite fortunate to have them for our training sessions. If I did break one, I was sure to drop down a few places in the archer ranks.

I tried pulling and yanking and wiggling it, but it still refused to come out. There were a few girls giggling at this point, and I really wanted to punch them. I even went so far as to form a giant, glowing hand and try pulling it out using that. No dice. It was still stuck!

Defeated, I sat down and stared at the arrow, adamant about staying in the tree trunk. You really are not giving me an easy time, you know that? I asked it, giving it a glare. I could imagine the people behind me gossiping now; Lunalis talks to arrows! She's such a freak! Oh, it would feel so nice to sink my fangs into their necks...

Wait, no, I stopped myself, before Insanity's thoughts could overtake me. I'm in control, I'm fine. I am not going to bite them. Okay?

Okay, came the reluctant reply. Insanity was one of the harder ones to control. She had a short fuse and a constantly voracious appetite. The fact that she was also part bat and drank blood didn't help whatsoever. Taking a deep breath and turning my attention back to the arrow, I bent over and began pulling it again.

I could feel it loosening the more I wiggled it, so I kept at it. When I was just starting to see the flint head, I hear a person yell out, Think fast!

I barely had the time to duck before an arrow went skimming over my head and embedded itself in the trunk of the tree, level to where my head had been before. I whipped around to see who had fired it, but I couldn't see them. I just hissed in the general direction it came from and finished loosening my arrow.

Jogging back to where I was shooting before, I picked up my bow and prepared to fire at a target carved in the shape of a deer. We modeled our targets after the animals we would be hunting, so the arrows got used to the shape and where to land so they could strike a fatal blow. Concentrating on the bow, I pictured the arrow flying true to pierce the center of the target, right where his heart would be. I pulled back the string, and just before I let the arrow fly, a velvety voice whispered in my ear, Be careful where you shoot that.