“Hold!” Captain Saeldine Moonweaver ordered. Her soldiers stiffened with new resolve. Their too-low elbows were brought into proper position; the youngest was still unfamiliar with the action of drawing a bow and they wobbled under the strain. She raised the signal.
“Fire.” The soldiers loosened their arrows towards the target, a brown bag of flour they had stolen from their mother. The parchment the Moonweaver siblings scribbled on served as face; a crude sharped-tooth flour-naga. Which, even after six shots, only had arrows of green feathers sticking out of it’s lumpy body.
Rhuwene, the youngest, fired a moment too soon. Too exhausted to aim; but too proud to request a moment of rest, Saeldine’s heart warmed for her sister’s determination. Yet, sheer grit was not enough to pass every challenge, and her blue bound arrow bore into the wall just above the door frame of their simple home.
Iydral barked with laughter and pointed a long deft finger towards the house. “Best you shoot a bit lower Rhuwene, I can’t imagine mother wants the house full of holes.”
Indeed. While Mother encouraged the little warrior games that Saeldine played with her sister, she knew that she wouldn’t find Rhuwene’s wayward arrows adorable.
It was hard for Saeldine not to laugh at the mortification on their little sister’s face. Rhuwene was incredibly young, just new to the world, but she held herself with the righteous fury of a hardened war veteren. Her face was dark with embarrassment; which only served to encourage Iydral. He cackled madly which made their sister turn a brilliant plum.
“Leave her alone, Iydral.” The captain examined the arrow carefully. Mother had warned them not to practice near the home, and her blood ran cold when she noticed the chipped paint. Saeldine didn’t miss the wince on her sibling’s faces when she tugged hard on the arrow, bringing bits of door frame along with it.
Their brother had always been a tactless winner. He twirled a new arrow between his fingers, freshly plucked from his quiver, and poked Rhuwene’s shoulder gently with the point. “Rematch? Winner takes all?”
“Let’s move the target in the other direction if you two insist. Mother won’t be feeling inclined to forgive us if you are still firing upon the door when she returns.”
Iydral rounded on her in surprise. “Why? So Rhu can fire on unsuspecting villagers instead? Grand plan, Captain! You’ll lead the whole army soon enough with tactics like that.”
“I’m not going to hurt anyone!“ Rhuwene whined.
“Very well.” Saeldine responded swiftly. She pinched the bridge of her nose and gestured vaguely towards the flour sack. The other night elves walked through the village completely oblivious to this discussion over their fate. “It can stay there. Just mind the windows.”
“Excellent choice. Old man Kadas lives another day.” Iydral said.
An elderly night elf paused stooping over a carved oak cane, his golden eyes watching the youngsters suspiciously. Each of the Moonweaver children wore identical innocent smiles. He waited. They smiled. When no explanation came, Old man Kadas shook his head and muttered something under his breath as he walked away.
“Good fortune to you.” Rhuwene waved.
“Elune be with you!!” Iydral shouted at the same time.
The old man eyed them warily as he disappeared along the pathway. Saeldine’s smile dropped and she whirled on her heel; the younger elves snapped in attention. “On your marks, children.” She snapped.
Rhuwene pressed her lips in a thin line. The thinnest, most serious line Saeldine had ever seen. Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she readied her bow. Their father had made it for her just a year ago back when Rhuwene proudly announced that she wanted to be a sentinel like her sister. Already it was well loved. Slivers of leather frayed on the edges of the grip, and her sister’s hands lacked soft flesh. Saeldine beamed with delight as she watched the girl line up her shot.
“Here’s a tip.” Iydral whispered from the corner of his mouth, “Point at what you are shooting at.”
Unfortunately she was a horrible markswoman.
“Fire.” Saeldine cut in, trying to avoid another squabble.
“I know how to do it.” Rhuwene said swiftly, drawing her arrow back in a fluid movement. Rhuwene’s belly twisted in anger and embarrassment; at that moment she swore that she hated her brother with all of her twelve-year old heart.
‘I’m not going to poke mother’s house full of holes’. She thought glumly. ‘Cheats’. It was the chief of unfairness that they had been born first, the crime of being the baby would leave her imprisoned for eternity because no matter what she did, her siblings had done it first.
Saeldine was a sentinel, a captain even, other elves respected her. They even liked Iydral! He could hit a squirrel from fifty-yards and the girls in the village thought he was oh-so-funny. She rolled her eyes. The girl frowned as the two watched with amusement on their faces.
Her stomach did an awful little flip. They didn’t think she could do it, she realized.
The flour-naga (as she imagined it to be) mocked her, just as Iydral had done, decorated in pretty green arrows. A fresh hole punctured the flour-naga in the gut and its white powdery blood leaked onto the grass all due to another arrow of emerald green.
Without waiting for Iydral to squeeze out another smug comment, Rhuwene puffed out her chest. “Elune. Please. Grant me your strength.” She breathed, so quiet so they couldn’t hear, believing only divine intervention would cease her brother’s pestering. Yet, she knew most certainly that if he discovered her prayers she would hear of it for all of eternity.
She squeezed her eyes shut. The flour-naga was still pictured perfectly in her mind’s eye; a bit to her left, and she imagined a lovely blue arrow stuck right into its inky eye. Her hands stopped shaking. She exhaled a final time before she released the string.
Rhuwene grimaced; waiting for Iydral’s whoop of laughter, or the tiny sigh that Saeldine released every time she missed her shot. Instead, when she cracked open one eye she was staring at the flour-naga with a blue-feathered flag right through its head. Her mouth dropped open and her heart started to beat again, and she turned to smile sweetly at her brother.
“Does this mean I win?” She asked.
Iydral stood,flustered for a moment, before he placed a firm hand on her shoulder shaking her gently. “I suppose it does, Rhu. Excellent shot, you’ll make yourself a huntress yet…”
Thinking of her innocent prayer she offered a quick thanks, as not to be rude. Her brother did not need to know that it wasn’t for him. Rhuwene believed with her entire being that she was not the one that made that shot, and she felt so incredibly happy that Elune saw fit to guide a little girl’s bow.
[[ Just a little blurb I wrote, thinking of my character, Rhuwene, as a bitty pre-teen.] ]