by DC Little
She shoved the hide aside, causing a rush of cold air to whip in with her. The fire blew back, blowing sparks and flickering, as she stood there, hands on her hips as her eyes adjusting. The bright of the fire had momentarily blinded her after being in the moonlight. She had tried talking with her mom, but with her being sick and without being able to be fully honest, Mercy only found it frustrating. At least the food was better.
“You controlling fire now, too?” Tucker smiled up at her. “We saved you some dinner.”
“I ate with Mom,” she said, glowering at him and avoiding Benjamin’s eyes all together. She hated thinking of him as Benjamin, knowing that name was a lie.
Walking wide around the liar, she situated her furs, wishing for once she had refused to allow him to stay with her and Tucker. She sat on her furs, watching the flames resume their normal motions.
“How’s Mom?” Tucker asked, his lightheartedness dissipating.
“Still sick.”
She saw Tucker glance at her then to Benjamin and back to her. “Dad?”
“He wasn’t there. Some sort of meeting with Arland.”
Tucker poked a stick into the fire and looked at her again. “He came by here.”
Mercy shot her eyes toward him, then she swiftly glanced at Benjamin, pulling her gaze away as soon as their eyes met. “Why?”
“He wanted to know what I did to make you angry,” Benjamin said, his voice subdued. “I...didn’t mean to make you angry.”
She refused to look at him but watched the flames flicker up and down, licking the air in front of her. Who wouldn’t be angry with someone lying to them? She wouldn’t say that in front of Tuck. It was something only between them. She worried about what her dad had said or did to him without her there, though he looked fine enough.
“Dad also said he was to begin training.” Tucker ducked his head to see her face.
Knowing he wanted to see the shock register, she purposefully kept her expression empty, but inside elation warred with suspicion. Why had her father chosen now? What had they talked about in her absence?
“Under your supervision,” Benjamin said. She felt his eyes boring into her, those blasted twilight eyes that had haunted her for years.
“Well, then you better get some sleep, because after tomorrow you won’t be able to move without pain.” She rolled over onto her bedding, turning her back to the guys and flinging her furs over her.
“I’m sure she’ll remember your leg tomorrow,” Tucker said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.
“What leg?” Benjamin asked.
Grateful her face was hidden, Mercy allowed herself the grin. This guy made her crazy. One minute she was so angry at him, the next she couldn't stop the excitement at spending more time with him racing through her veins. What was wrong with her?
By the time morning came, she had convinced herself Benjamin had his reasons not to be forthcoming with personal information and instead dedicated herself to proving he could trust her. She put yesterday behind her, forgetting it ever happened. Benjamin, or whatever his name was, didn’t seem to mind forgetting it as well.
“Let’s go, lazy bum,” she said, kicking him in the rump as he finished his breakfast. “First lesson of the day, how to do dishes.”
“I get out of it again!” Tucker cheered, handing Benjamin his bowl and spoon with a huge grin. “I think I like having a roommate.”
Mercy shot Tucker a glare before tugging on her cloak. “Let’s go, slow poke.”
“Just wait until I get my leg back, and we’ll see who calls who slow,” he said, a wicked grin on his face.
Mercy had to pull her eyes away with force, for that smile tugged on her heart with a fierceness she could barely fight. “I’ll take that challenge.” She would make him pay for his hold on her, whether he knew he had one or not.
“You better be careful, man.” Tucker strung his bow and slipped it over his head. “You just challenged our best.”
Mercy rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Everybody knows you still beat me at everything.”
Tucker leaned in close to her, whispering, “Yeah, but I’m the only one.” She heard the pride in his voice, and it made her heart swell.
The sun shone brilliantly, making the snowstorm when she found the guy shuffling along behind her seem as if it happened a long time ago. She heard him grunt with effort, making her smile maliciously. Today, she was going to wear him out.
After setting him up to wash the dishes, she headed back toward camp. She wanted to push Benjamin but not permanently injure him, so she had a quick discussion with Laurie to see what her parameters were. Once back, she watched his progress, dissecting his ability to clean the dishes.
“Laurie said you could start putting weight on your leg a little at a time.” Mercy took the dishes from him, so he could use the crutch. She watched him closely as he tentatively put weight on his right foot. “So?”
“Doable.”
“Well, she said not to push it. A little at a time and not your full weight. If it hurts or swells up, off of it immediately.” Mercy bent down to check the bracing. The sticks were steady, and the wrap holding it together made it tight and unmoving.
“It’s a long walk to the other side of camp, so we’ll start with that. Get started. I’ll catch back up.” She took the dishes to their dwelling and met him as he passed it.
“I feel like Crazy Pete,” he said as she rejoined him.
“Who’s Crazy Pete?”
“He’s this guy that indulges too much in the backwater if you know what I mean.”
Mercy frowned. “Backwater? Like he drank the water that flows back into an eddy?”
“A what? No...it’s a distilled drink, you know, it makes people act funny and do stupid things.”
Mercy shook her head. “Not sure why anyone would have a drink that makes you do stupid things.”
“I...it’s...never mind,” he said, taking a few more halting steps. “I agree with you by the way. I never liked the stuff. I like having my head firmly planted on my shoulders.”
“That’s a funny way of saying it.” Mercy looked across Zion, proud of her community having everything they needed and thinking of the people where Benjamin came from. “So, the people in the coalition, they had time to make stupid water but not to grow food?”
He looked at her for a moment before continuing to make slow progress to the other side of Zion. “Priorities are messed up in the coalition.”
“Sounds like it needs a new leader.” She thought of her dad with a newfound respect.
“A complete overhaul, in my opinion.” He became silent, and she allowed him his peace.
Imagining a place without nature to rely on, with a lack of food, clothes falling apart, and angry, violent people everywhere you turned, made her shiver, though she once had thought the Forbidden a place of dreams.
“You cold?” His eyes turned a darker blue when he looked at her like that.
“No, just thinking...I don’t wonder why you left that horrible place.”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
“But you left people you cared about...at least one.” She couldn’t stop the sharp pain that hit her heart as she thought about him calling out to the girl, Lily.
“Yeah,” he said again.
“You’re not staying, are you?” She stopped and looked into his eyes.
He looked anywhere but at her. His gaze swept across the dwellings they had walked past, across the people in the garden area, to the groups in the training area beyond them. Finally, he stopped his roaming gaze and looked at her.
“Mercy,” his voice lacked any of the humor he normally had, “I don’t want to lie to you. There are things I can’t share, things that I…” He clamped his mouth shut as his jaw worked and his eyes slipped past her. “One day I hope to be as open as the sky with you.” He sighed and turned back. “Right now, it just isn’t an option.”
A chill ran down her spine, a chill that sent her heart racin
g and fear niggling at her stomach. She didn’t like the way his eyes had clouded over in pain. A fierce protectiveness swept through her, causing her fists to clench and her jaw to ache. She wanted to hurt the person who had caused him so much agony, but the next time she saw his eyes, they were back to normal, dancing in humor.
“So, you guys really use bows and arrows?” Benjamin asked, his eyes now watching the group training at the shooting range.
She sighed, deciding to follow his lead and leave the serious conversation behind. “You have them in the coalition?”
“No, crossbows, but not archaic, simple things like these.”
“Archaic, huh? These archaic things provide our food and protection. Maybe you would like to try it out if you think they’re so simple.”
He shrugged, but his lips pulled in that challenging smile of his.
“This is going to be fun,” Mercy said, letting go of the stab in her heart and fully focusing on the moment.
By the time they made it to the archery range, sweat beaded on Benjamin’s forehead. She grinned despite the sour faces of the guys scowling at them, continued grinning even as Tucker came over, quietly asking if she was sure about this.
“Let me see your bow,” she told her brother. She quickly gave Benjamin a run-down of how the bow worked, asked if he could stand on his leg long enough to shoot it.
The cocky guy assured her he could and squared his jaw as he took up the stance as she directed. “Feet pointed at the dwellings, eyes pointed at the target, nock, lock, and load.”
She thought about correcting his lowered elbow, his fist grip on the string, and his pullback to his chin rather than his jaw, but she crossed her arms instead. Satisfaction filled her at the sight of him floundering. She didn’t know why, but didn’t want to question it at the moment.
His shot fumbled out of the bow, glancing off a rock about ten yards in front of him and sharply angling to the left, hitting the target two rows down. Mercy’s mouth dropped. She expected fumbling but not like that.
The guys next to them were shocked into silence, but now they went into an uproar of jests and put downs. She glanced at them laughing at the guy she had saved then met Tucker’s eyes. She should have listened to his warning. Her face fighting the heat filling it, she finally met Benjamin’s eyes.
“Well,” he said with a shrug, “could have been worse, I guess.”
“Try again,” she said through gritted teeth.
He leaned forward and whispered, “You know, you sound like your dad when you talk like that.”
“Try again,” she repeated.
“I’m not sure that would be in my best interest,” he said, glancing at the throng of angry guys.
“It is. Trust me.”
“What’s the matter, Little Flame? Your boyfriend having second thoughts?” Darius jeered.
Ethan stood in front of Darius, locking his eyes on the man. “He is not her boyfriend.”
Mercy narrowed her eyes, feeling her entire body go rigid. She turned, but Benjamin put his hand on her arm.
“I’ll do it. I’ll keep trying until I make you proud.” He glared at Darius and Ethan, then picked the bow back up, clumsily nocking an arrow. “Like this?”
“The odd colored feather points out.” She watched him as he corrected the arrow and raised the bow. “Aim first, right down the shaft, accounting for distance. The higher you point, the farther it can go. For this distance, you need it just slightly above the bullseye.”
He held his arm steady, sighting the arrow perfectly. Behind them the jeering quieted, and she felt the potent presence of her father. She glanced at Benjamin, wondering if he did as well.
“Hold the string with only the tips of your fingers, two of them, under the arrow. Now pull back until your thumb can hook on your jaw.”
“Like this?” he asked, his breathing rapid as she stood close to him, tipping up his elbow, helping him sight the target in the distance.
“Yes, now when you release, let the string slip from your fingers. Don’t help it. Don’t push it. Just let it slip out.” Her heart beat loudly in her ears, realizing even if the guys still jested, she wouldn’t be able to hear them. She felt like the others intruded on this private moment. Which was probably for the best so her thoughts didn’t turn into action.
She stood back, keeping her face hidden from the others. Benjamin’s eyes slightly turned toward her.
“Fire,” she said.
She watched his long fingers as they gently released their hold, letting the string snap back, launching the arrow straight at the target. The arrow didn’t hit the bullseye, but it shot almost all the way through the stuffed bag and within the target itself.
The crowd dispersed by what she felt was a silent order from her father. Benjamin, or whatever his name was, turned, the smile spreading his lips made her knees wobble even as pride filled her. He had shot the target, silenced the crowd, and taken the first step toward proving himself.
His father’s presence grew to the point of not being able to ignore. Her apprentice did not pull his gaze away, but she did, watching her father as he came up to him and holding her breath.
“We’ll make a hunter out of you yet,” her father said, slapping Benjamin on his back before walking toward the lookout post.
She watched her father walk away for several moments, then met her brother’s eyes from afar. He nodded with a slight grin before following their dad.
“Is he still watching?” Benjamin asked, his voice sounding strained.
“No, it’s all clear.”
“Good,” he said with a sigh and allowed himself to fall to the ground. He reached down toward his leg and breathed out.
“Hurting?”
“That’s an understatement,” he said, but he grinned at her. “I did it.”
“Yes, Hunter. You’re on your way to proving yourself.” Hunter. She liked that name. It fit him more than his fake alias. She cocked her head, dissecting him. Hunter will be his name until he tells her his true one.
>>>—ORION—<<<
Orion put slightly more pressure on his leg. It hadn’t been a bad break from what the healers said, but he had seen breaks heal badly and didn’t want that to happen. He had to prove himself. The tension in Zion increased daily, the bumping into him, the punches thrown in mock jest, the taunts...they escalated. Orion had experienced these types of initiations and knew what was coming.
He wasn’t ready for it...yet.
A breeze picked up, carrying the scent of snow. Tucker had said a storm would come today, explaining that these were things you picked up on after spending years in the wilderness. Orion wondered if he told the truth, if everyone in Zion could tell these things. The more he got to know the guy, the more his crypticness became suspicious, though that didn’t change his fondness for him.
A red strand of hair swept across his face with the scent of spring mixed with it. How did she always smell so fresh? The hair tickled his cheek, but he didn’t bother to wipe it away.
“Sorry,” Mercy huffed as she pulled her hair back, twisting it together and shoving it under the collar of her shirt. “I’ve been thinking of cutting this mess off.”
“Your hair?” he choked out. “Don’t do that!”
Mercy froze, her eyes searching his for a moment as if she read his motive clearer than he could. He gulped and turned back toward the task at hand. Even after a week, he still hadn’t got a handle on shooting bows. He could hit the target, but still no bullseye. According to the guys, he needed a bullseye to provide meat for Zion.
Mercy had shifted his training to knife throwing as his leg wasn’t ready for hand-to-hand combat. Knife throwing proved to be easier. He knew that if he could put more weight on his foot, he would be even better. It was a lot like using a sling...his sling. How had he forgotten that?
“What?” Mercy asked, the line between her brows deepening.
“Remember what I had wrapped around my leg when you, uh, when you…”
/>
“Rescued you?” Mercy arched an eyebrow.
“Yeah.”
“Why is that so hard for you to say?” Mercy folded her arms, though her lips quirked as if she fought a smile.
“It’s not. It’s just...anyway that thing tying my leg. I don’t know how I forgot it. Do you know where it is?”
“I had to cut it off. I’m sorry, but your leg would have...well, it would have died.”
“Oh,” Orion said, his elation dropping.
“We don’t throw things away and that fiber string seemed very strong. I still have it, but whatever you used it for, I’m not sure that will still work.”
“But you kept the pieces?” Orion glanced at her.
“Yeah, and I’m sure you could create whatever you needed with what we have here. Don’t get yourself into a tizzy, Hunter.” She knocked into him. “Throw your knives.”
After dinner, she pulled out the remnants of his sling, and his heart broke all over again. His prized paracord now lay in pieces, no longer good for what he needed. He fingered the pouch, touching the dried blood. She really had rescued him. He wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for her. Why was that hard to admit?
Because you came to kill her father.
The harsh reality hit him. He was getting too comfortable.
“Hey.” Mercy touched his arm. “We’ll fix it. I have some sinew string that should work perfect.”
She crawled to a reed basket and dug through it while he felt like a scoundrel. Was it his fault she mesmerized him? His heart ached, and he knew he had crossed the line. It would cause her pain, deep, excruciating pain to lose her father. He knew that pain. Could he allow her, the woman who rescued him and continued to rescue him daily, to go through it?
“Here,” she said, bringing him over a long, sinew string.
He fingered the waxy substance, tugged on it, tested it, anything to keep his mind off what he knew had to be done. The string was tough, even tougher than the thinner sinew they used for their bow strings.
