by Amy Bearce
He still acted awkward and unnatural around her, like he was afraid she would start fawning over him now. She was the old stinky sock he held gingerly from his body. Sierra rolled her eyes. She loved him, but he had never made her face flush like he did Nell’s. Nor had Sierra been bothered when he’d courted a couple of the village girls, but then, she knew they weren’t good enough for him. The thing was, neither was Nell. No one was. She wondered if he knew that.
Before they got fully set up for camp, Nell returned. Corbin grinned at her arrival, and his obvious delight tripped Sierra’s heart a little. She was turning into a third wheel even as she sat there. She jerked her face away and the motion made her a little dizzy. Nell had leaned into the attention she received from him like a flower turning to face the sun.
A small part of Sierra wished for someone like that, too, but she was quick to silence the thought. She didn’t have room for that kind of liability. Jack would use anyone against her. She couldn’t help loving her sister, but even Jack didn’t know how much Sierra relied on Corbin. Since they were just friends, not courting, it was easier to hide. But someone she loved one day? He’d be a pawn for her father to manipulate. No thanks. She wasn’t ready for that kind of relationship yet anyway.
Sierra gathered wood for the evening fire and found a few sticks green enough to use as a spit if Nell could get a rabbit. Corbin didn’t hunt, but he loved a good rabbit stew. Sierra was a decent cook, but she needed to learn how to hunt, which meant really learning how to shoot a bow. To be free of relying on Nell meant being more dependent first. Asking her for help would be like swallowing rocks, but she was the only one who could help right now. Rocks definitely didn’t taste good, not in any form.
“Why do you want to learn to use a bow and arrow?” Nell’s suspicious look spoke volumes.
Sierra rolled her eyes. “Relax, I’m not going to shoot you in the back.”
Nell laughed, confidence radiating from her. The mere thought of Sierra being a danger was apparently amusing.
Sierra clenched her teeth. “Nell, if I decide to shoot you, I’ll do it to your face, and you’ll see the arrow coming.”
The words dropped like the opening spatters of a hailstorm, one at a time, each bouncing with a resounding crack on the frozen ground.
Nell narrowed her eyes, and a flush rose on her face.
Sierra cursed her own temper. Maybe Nell would refuse to help now. In fact, Sierra would say no if their situations were reversed. Maybe logic would work better and would smooth over that last stupid comment.
“If both of us hunt, we’ll get more food. Aren’t you tired of being hungry?”
It was true Nell caught something nearly every day, but between three of them, there still wasn’t enough to eat. Walking all day used a lot of energy. Sierra’s knowledge of edible wild plants and grasses was nearly useless this time of year when so much in the wild was dead already. She had collected some harvest nuts from the few sparse trees the day before, which were delicious when roasted, but right now, the only other thing she could offer was field greens. Without any kind of dressing on them, field greens were just grass on a plate, bitter and not filling at all. The purchased grain and way bread needed to last through the whole journey, so all three of them had been stingy with it.
Nell grimaced. She must have really been hungry, because she agreed to teach Sierra how to hunt.
They left Corbin sitting by the fire, working on building it stronger. Sierra followed Nell over a small rise as she looked for a good target in the flat area. They wouldn’t reach the forest, which marked the true start of the mountain, until tomorrow or the day after. A sparse cluster of trees up ahead looked like a bunch of old ladies standing around at the market, gossiping. The grass beneath them was thin and short.
“Show me what you can do,” Nell said once they entered the shade beneath the branches. She marched over to a tall maple about twenty feet away and pointed to a knot on the bark. “Hit that.”
She held out her second bow, a redwood, smooth and deceptively simple, and an arrow. Not one of her griffin arrows, Sierra noted, but she couldn’t blame her. These were simple stone arrowheads and goose feather fletching. The draw of the bow was hard, as it was built for Nell’s height, not Sierra’s, but it was all she had to work with.
Sierra ran her fingers along the bow, noticing the whorls of deeper red in the grain of the wood. Her stomach felt like it was full of fairies about to swarm. Nell’s eyes were cold, measuring, the pale blue irises looking almost silver in the low light. She quickly stepped behind Sierra. Good idea. Sierra might want to shoot Nell on purpose half the time, but it’d be really stupid to do it on accident.
Sierra widened her stance for a proper position to aim. That part had never been difficult. It was the rest she usually messed up. She wiped the sweat off her palms onto her pants, sneaking a glance at Nell. Her eyes met Sierra’s, and Sierra jerked her gaze back to the front, embarrassment curdling her gut. She held the bow up with her left arm, elbow slightly bent, locked into place to avoid ripping the skin off the inside of her arm. She’d done that before and had no desire to repeat it. She softly curled her right pointer and middle finger around the string while holding the arrow against it and began a smooth draw back. Her arms strained a bit as she held the bow in place, the tension fighting her to release the arrow. Sighting down the arrow, she tried to imagine nothing existed except that knothole.
The arrow will go where I’m aiming, she told herself.
Taking a deep breath and holding it, Sierra let go. The arrow flew with a soft twang. Her breath rushed from her lungs, and her fingers tingled from the slide of the bowstring. She watched the knothole, but no arrow appeared. A thawking noise to the right drew their attention, and there was the arrow, buried in the tree beside her target. The breath whuffed out of Nell’s nose, but it wasn’t clear if she was irritated or amused. At least it hit something, which wasn’t always the case. Sierra shook out her hand. The jitters in her stomach shifted to excitement. Okay, she missed, but the power in the bow was like a song in her hands. It was safety, it was freedom, it was―
“Okay, hand it back.” Nell was clearly unimpressed. “We’ll work on shooting again later when we have more time. Now, look at these tracks and tell me what made them. You can’t hunt what you can’t find.”
Tracking. Sierra’s stomach sank. Containing her wince of frustration, she handed the bow back. Sierra frowned, though, watching Nell strap the bow to her back, hands itching to try again. They also literally itched from the vibrations of the bow string, causing her to rub her palms up and down against her thighs to get rid of the tingling.
Sierra leaned down where Nell pointed. After scrutinizing the ground, Sierra did see some tracks. Made by a small creature with padded feet, not hooves, and tiny claws on the end of each toe. Nell nodded as Sierra stated her observation.
“Great, so what are we having for dinner?” Nell waited, arms crossed, toned muscles visible.
Sierra swallowed, feeling as if she were back in school with the teacher about to rap her knuckles for not knowing the answer. She shrugged, pretending indifference, and Nell’s brow furrowed.
“Name something. Take a guess.”
Sierra hated to guess. She’d probably be wrong. She stared at the ground, as if the answer might float up from the dirt, but she was still clueless. Forget it, she decided. Nothing was worth feeling dumb around Nell. Sierra could teach herself to shoot. She turned and started to stomp away, but Nell’s voice stopped her.
“Squirrel,” she called, “but not like our squirrels at home. These are plains squirrels, and they’re bigger. If I can get one, we’ll be full tonight.”
Sierra didn’t turn around, but she didn’t walk away, either.
“You can watch me hunt and track this one―or not. Suit yourself. I don’t care.” The words were tossed out casually.
Sierra’s pride warred with her stomach, but the stomach won because in the long-run learning this
skill would help her pride, too. She walked back to Nell, eyes downcast, hands clenched, not wanting to see her smirk.
“Let’s go,” Sierra said.
ierra watched Nell’s feet as she tracked the prints, the careful way she placed each step. She barely made a stick crackle or a leaf sigh as she moved through the group of trees, which was unnerving to watch. Someone so tall should make more noise. She reached one of the big clearings and put her finger to her lips. She motioned with her hand to freeze, and Sierra froze. This was Nell’s game now, and Sierra would play along.
Nell whipped the bow off her back with startling suddenness, but she was so smooth and silent not even a bird took flight. Before Sierra could blink, Nell had already nocked an arrow, drawn, and shot. A flurry of movement in the waving grasses suddenly came to a complete stop.
With only a cursory look around, Nell strode out into the field. Her intense expression indicated she was on high alert, trusting her senses to warn of danger. She picked up the fat animal by its legs, her arrow protruding from its back. Sierra saluted her, and the older girl made a tiny sardonic bow. Sierra’s lips quirked, but she hid it. Nell had a sense of humor. Who knew?
“Next time I hunt, you’re coming with me, and every time after that,” Nell called as she walked away. Clearly, the lesson was done. But when they got back to camp, she handed Sierra a spare bow.
“Keep it on your back, strung and ready. Practice. A lot.” Nell rolled her eyes.
Sierra didn’t even roll her eyes back. She was too excited.
The next day, as they walked along, she practiced sighting on distant pine trees sprinkled here and there before the forest began in earnest. The tall grasses slowly faded as more and more trees blocked out light.
Corbin watched Sierra practice that night, before the sun sank. He stayed curled up on his bedroll on the opposite side of camp, feeding twigs to a very small fire. Didn’t want any out-of-control fires in the middle of a field sprinkled with crispy pine needles. Sierra aimed at a tree fifty feet away and let out all her breath. She released the arrow… and missed. Again. She was too tired to curse or kick anything, but her disappointment still stung.
“Gee, Sierra, I thought you’d be pretty good at shooting things. You’re quick to shoot people down who argue with you, after all. Your tongue’s sharper than a razor,” Corbin joked.
It was the first time he had teased her since they accidentally bumped lips. That moment couldn’t even properly be called a kiss, so Sierra was glad it had been forgotten. Relief flooded her at the familiar sight of his mocking grin, and she stuck her tongue out at him. Her shoulders dropped a bit, and some hurt place in her heart that had felt like an icicle finally began to thaw.
She brought out another arrow and aimed again at the tree. This time, she imagined her feet sinking deep in the earth as she stood there, eyes half closed. Relief at Corbin’s normal behavior loosened something tight in her chest, and her breath came easier. Her fingertips protested as she pulled on the string―no calluses yet, so the skin was raw and sore from repeated practice. The string twanged as she released the arrow, her breath whooshing out with it. There was a solid smack, like the sound of a ripe melon hitting the ground.
She looked at Corbin, startled, who sat up in astonishment. She ran to the tree, not believing her eyes in the dim twilight. But there it was, her arrow, finally where she’d aimed. Pride and happiness filled her, and a huge grin split her face.
Before Sierra could think, she ran to Corbin, who swung her around in celebration, her feet not even touching the ground. She was just as happy to have her best friend back as she was to have hit the tree. He set her down with an exaggerated plop and offered a salute. Sierra laughed and saluted back, tilting her head when he looked over her shoulder and quickly took a step back. Sierra paused, knowing who she’d see causing him to back away from her.
Slow clapping came behind her, and she reluctantly turned. Nell walked toward them, clap, clap, clapping her hands, but her face was not shiny with excitement. It was guarded. When Sierra saw Nell’s eyes flit from Sierra to Corbin and back to her, it was easy to guess why.
“Nice work, Sierra,” Nell stated.
Sierra bit the inside of her cheek at the chilly tone.
Nell continued, “Next I’ll have to teach our friend Corbin to hunt, too.”
Corbin cleared his throat and said, “I’ve thought about asking, actually. Maybe sometime you could show me, too…”
He pawed the ground with his foot like a lovesick unicorn. Nell gazed at him with careful consideration.
Sierra rolled her eyes but managed to turn her back on them both before they saw. The idea of Corbin hunting with a bow and arrow was ridiculous. He ate meat, true, but he loved animals too much to bring them down himself. Anyone who knew him understood how gentle he was.
When he was younger, he was the child who always brought home hurt animals for his parents to heal, or returned little sea crabs washed up on shore back to the water. Even as he grew older, his tender nature remained. During a collection run when he was twelve, Corbin and Sierra found a blue jay fluttering in circles on the forest floor, wings spread out, clearly hurt. He couldn’t ignore the bird’s squawks of pain. He carefully checked its blue feathers, singing softly to the bird all the while. That wild creature sat calmly in his hand, like his fairy did. He brought the bird home, binding its wing for the next few days, until the strain had healed. When he set it free, the jay shot through the trees like a blue arrow. She’d never forget his proud smile. He was obviously trying to impress Nell with this half-offer to learn to hunt. It wasn’t like he’d actually shoot anything.
Nell said, “Let’s start now.”
Sierra, shocked, spun to gape at her. What was her game? Didn’t she know Corbin at all? Guess this showed who knew the boy better, after all. Sierra smirked.
Corbin looked surprised. “Isn’t it a bit dark? Shouldn’t we stick close to our camp?”
Nell smiled slowly, eyes twinkling in a way Sierra didn’t know was possible. Nell kept her eyes on Corbin, who flushed. She smiled wider, and Sierra’s smirk melted away.
“We can begin right here. We’ll use Sierra’s tree. I’ll show you how to stand.”
Nell stepped behind Corbin and moved him into proper position by wrapping her arms around him. If she tilted her head, she could lay it against the back of his neck. His neck appeared too tense to be a comfortable pillow, though. Sierra could practically see the muscles cording up, tightening from Nell’s nearness.
Sierra chewed on the inside of her cheek and tasted the salty metal flavor of blood. She didn’t have to stand right here and watch this nonsense. She went to the far edge of camp to tend the fire. They had already eaten a small meal of flatbread and some kind of bird with dark brown feathers that was greasy but tasty. Her body obviously needed fuel, because even the fat had seemed delicious, slick on her fingers. Corbin cleaned the dishes already too. Now there was nothing to do except try to ignore those two. Tough to do when she found herself straining to catch every word they said. She didn’t care what stupid things they talked about, but somehow she couldn’t fully ignore them, all googly-eyed, like there weren’t more important things to focus on.
Sierra finally decided to get ready for bed, even if the sun wasn’t all the way down. She couldn’t stand sitting there any longer. The scent of smoke curled against the sharp clean scent of pine trees. They could bank the fire… later. Sierra fought not to glance at the two bodies silhouetted against the dying light, merged so close as to look like one.
She crawled in her bedroll. She didn’t care if Nell saw it as defeat. The hot sting of tears pressed against Sierra’s closed eyelids, and the only thing worse than crying over Corbin right this minute would be if Nell saw it happen. Sierra didn’t begrudge him happiness, but that girl wasn’t going to bring it to him. Nell carried death with her wherever she went, and shouldn’t be in Corbin’s life. But if she was, would Sierra lose him in hers forever?
It didn’t. Really.
ierra awoke, once again, tired from chasing fairies all night in her dreams. The flavor of nectar was so strong in her mouth, she almost wondered if someone was dosing her with Flight. She’d never taken Flight itself, but all keepers occasionally got nectar on their hands and then in their mouths. She heard they tasted much the same, and there were definitely no fairies around to make nectar. The weird dreams, the tastes… but she would have hallucinations if she were being slipped the elixir. So far, the only weird things she saw during the day involved her best friend cozying up to Nell. Sierra might wish those images were hallucinations, but, too bad for her, they were reality. She guessed the taste of nectar was so familiar that her subconscious must have been dragging it to the forefront of her mind as she slept.
The good news was Nell and Corbin didn’t act particularly besotted, despite their cozy scene last night. Things could be worse. He did touch Nell’s arm when he asked a question about hunting―as if he cared about hunting, the liar, the sneak! And he watched her so closely it was like a puppy watching its master. Nell played her feelings closer to the vest, but sometimes after he brushed by her, she flushed a cherry red that highlighted how her pale blue eyes sparkled like sun off snow-covered fields. Their blooming affection was tough for Sierra to stomach, but she pretended indifference.
But even Corbin and Nell’s joking and flirting dissipated as they moved toward the deeper shadow of the forest. They had been in and out of trees the whole day, the tall grasses slowly disappearing, but now they were entering the territory people feared. The Skyclad Mountains truly began here. The trees crowded tightly together, fifty feet tall and wide as houses, as if to keep people out. This was the place of nightmares, of threats, of the unknown. An eerie silence hung in the air. The very lack of chittering wildlife made Sierra’s skin crawl with goose bumps. An unnatural forest.
