Morning sunlight spilled across the village of Willowmere, turning the river into ribbons of gold.
Smoke curled lazily from chimney stacks. Chickens wandered between the wooden houses like they owned the place, and somewhere a blacksmith's hammer rang out in slow, steady rhythm.
The whole village smelled like fresh bread and wildflowers.
And chaos.
Because Kael Thorne was running full speed down the dirt road.
Barefoot.
Hair wild.
Wooden sword clutched in his small fist.
"I told you to give it back!"
Two older boys stood near the well in the center of the village square. One of them held a small carved bird in his hand.
The boy they were tormenting, little Bram, stood behind them trying very hard not to cry.
"It's just a toy," the bigger boy laughed.
Kael skidded to a stop in front of them, chest heaving. He was smaller than both of them. Younger too.
But he planted his feet like a tiny soldier guarding a gate.
"It's his toy," Kael said firmly.
The boys stared at him.
Then one snorted.
"What are you going to do about it, Thorne?"
Kael lifted his wooden sword.
It was crooked and badly carved.
His father had helped him make it.
"I'm going to win," Kael said.
The two boys burst out laughing.
Behind them, Bram peeked out nervously.
One of the boys stepped forward and flicked Kael's forehead with a finger.
Kael stumbled back.
But he didn't run.
Instead he charged.
With a battle cry that sounded far more heroic in his head than it did in real life.
"FOR WILLOWMERE!"
The wooden sword swung wildly.
It bounced harmlessly off the older boy's arm.
The boys shoved him back into the dust.
Kael landed hard, scraping his elbow.
The bigger boy rolled his eyes.
"Idiot."
But before he could turn away—
A deep voice cut through the square.
"That's enough."
Everyone froze.
Standing at the edge of the road was Garrick Thorne.
Tall.
Broad.
Arms crossed over his chest like stone walls.
His dark beard moved slightly as he exhaled.
Even after leaving the army years ago, Garrick still carried himself like a man who had seen battle.
And won.
The boys quickly shoved the wooden bird back at Bram.
"We were just playing."
"Mm."
Garrick raised one eyebrow.
That was enough.
The boys scattered like startled chickens.
Kael pushed himself up from the dirt, brushing dust off his knees.
Garrick walked over slowly.
Kael waited.
Maybe for a lecture.
Maybe for trouble.
Instead his father crouched down and picked up the crooked wooden sword from the ground.
He inspected it seriously.
"Hmm."
Kael held his breath.
Garrick handed it back.
"You dropped your weapon, soldier."
Kael's face lit up.
"Yes, sir!"
Garrick ruffled his messy hair.
"Next time," he said quietly, "try not to charge enemies twice your size head-on."
Kael puffed out his chest.
"But I won."
Behind them Bram hugged his little wooden bird tightly.
Garrick watched the scene for a moment.
Then he smiled.
"A knight protects the small."
Kael grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.
He lifted the wooden sword again.
"One day I'll be a real knight."
Garrick rested a hand on his shoulder.
"I don't doubt it."
Neither of them noticed the faint spark that flickered across the wooden sword in Kael's hand.
Tiny.
Barely visible.
Like a firefly made of lightning.
Gone before anyone could see it.
The square slowly returned to its lazy morning rhythm.
Chickens resumed their wandering. The baker's window creaked open. Somewhere down the road, a dog barked at absolutely nothing important.
Kael marched beside his father like a very serious soldier returning from war.
The wooden sword rested proudly on his shoulder.
Garrick glanced down at him.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "most soldiers don't start fights before breakfast."
Kael frowned.
"I didn't start it."
"Oh?"
"They were being jerks."
Garrick rubbed his beard like a philosopher considering the mysteries of the universe.
"Well," he said finally, "that does complicate things."
Kael nodded firmly, satisfied his father understood the situation.
They reached the forge at the edge of the village. The small stone building sat beside the road with its doors wide open to the morning air.
Inside, the fire was already burning.
Metal glowed in the coals.
The smell of hot iron filled the air.
Kael loved the forge.
To him it was a dragon's cave.
Garrick grabbed his apron from a hook and tied it around his waist.
"You going to help today," he asked, "or patrol the village for bullies?"
Kael considered this very carefully.
"Both."
"Ambitious."
Kael climbed onto a wooden crate near the workbench so he could see better.
His father lifted a half-finished horseshoe from the coals and set it on the anvil.
CLANG.
The hammer fell.
CLANG.
Sparks flew in bright golden bursts.
Kael watched them with wide eyes.
There was something mesmerizing about the sparks.
They jumped.
Crackled.
Danced through the air like tiny glowing insects.
CLANG.
Another strike.
A few sparks popped toward Kael.
For a split second…
Something strange happened.
The sparks didn't fall.
They bent.
Just slightly.
Like invisible threads pulled them.
Right toward Kael.
They fizzled out before touching him.
He blinked.
"Dad?"
"Hm?"
"Do sparks listen?"
Garrick paused mid-swing.
"I hope not," he said. "If they did, the forge would burn the whole village down."
Kael nodded seriously.
That sounded reasonable.
Outside, the sound of light footsteps approached.
A warm voice followed.
"I see my two warriors survived the morning."
Kael spun around.
His mother stood in the doorway, a woven basket hanging from her arm.
Bundles of herbs peeked out from the top.
Lysa Thorne always smelled like mint, lavender, and forest rain.
Strands of her dark hair had escaped her braid, and sunlight spilled across her shoulders.
Kael jumped off the crate and ran to her.
"Mom!"
She laughed as he collided with her legs.
"You're filthy."
"I fought two enemies."
"I'm sure you did."
She crouched and gently wiped the dirt from his cheek with her sleeve.
"You also scraped your elbow."
Kael glanced at it.
"Oh."
He hadn't noticed.
Lysa shook her head fondly.
"You're exactly like your father."
Garrick snorted from the forge.
"Unfair accusation."
Lysa opened her basket and pulled out a small jar filled with pale green salve.
She dabbed a little onto Kael's scrape.
It tingled.
"Hold still."
"I am holding still."
"You are vibrating."
"I am not."
Garrick chuckled in the background.
Kael huffed but stayed still long enough for her to finish.
"There," Lysa said.
"Am I healed?"
"You will live."
Excellent.
Kael nodded with the solemn satisfaction of a warrior who had survived grave injury.
Lysa capped the jar and tucked it back into her basket. "Try not to earn another one before lunch."
"No promises," Kael said.
Garrick barked a laugh from the forge.
"That's my boy."
Kael puffed up a little at that and climbed back onto the crate beside the anvil, careful this time not to bump the tools. The forge was loud again, alive with the steady rhythm of Garrick's hammer.
CLANG.
CLANG.
Each strike rang through the small building like a bell.
Lysa leaned against the doorway, watching the two of them. For a moment she said nothing, just enjoying the familiar scene: smoke curling toward the rafters, sunlight spilling through the open doors, her son perched like a determined little owl beside the anvil.
"You promised you'd bring more wood in today," she said after a moment, glancing at Garrick.
"I did."
"You also promised yesterday."
Garrick struck the horseshoe again.
CLANG.
"Still planning to," he said calmly.
Lysa crossed her arms.
Kael looked between them.
"…Is this a fight?"
"No," Garrick said.
"Yes," Lysa said.
Kael watched with fascination.
Garrick dunked the glowing horseshoe into a barrel of water.
SSSSSSSS.
Steam hissed upward.
He set the finished piece aside and wiped his hands on a rag.
"I'll bring wood," he said.
"Today."
"Today."
Lysa gave him a look that suggested she would absolutely remember this conversation later.
Kael leaned toward his father and whispered loudly, "You should probably bring wood."
Garrick muttered, "Traitor."
Kael grinned.
Outside, the village carried on with its quiet morning. A wagon creaked past on the road. Someone called greetings from across the square. The smell of baking bread drifted through the open doors, making Kael's stomach rumble.
He slid off the crate.
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"When's breakfast?"
Lysa blinked at him.
"You already ate."
"That was a long time ago."
"That was one hour ago."
Kael considered this.
"Very long."
Garrick shook his head and grabbed a small cloth-wrapped bundle from the workbench.
He tossed it to Kael.
The boy fumbled but managed to catch it.
Inside was a thick slice of bread and a piece of honeyed cheese.
Kael's eyes lit up.
"You're the best."
"I know."
Kael plopped down on the forge steps and devoured the bread like a starving wolf. Crumbs scattered everywhere.
Lysa watched him with the faint smile mothers wear when they know cleaning will happen later.
"You're meeting the other children by the river today, aren't you?" she asked.
Kael nodded through a mouthful.
"Bram and Elin and Tomas."
"Stay near the shallows," she said automatically.
"I always do."
"You do not."
"…Mostly."
Garrick leaned against the doorway beside her.
"Let him roam a bit," he said. "He'll learn the land."
"He's six."
"He's stubborn."
Lysa sighed.
That part was true.
Kael finished the bread and jumped to his feet.
"Can I go now?"
"You're going to wash your hands first," Lysa said.
Kael looked at his sticky fingers.
"…Right."
He ran to the water barrel and dunked both hands in with unnecessary enthusiasm, splashing half the water onto the ground.
"Good enough!" he declared.
Lysa pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Close enough," Garrick said.
Kael grabbed his wooden sword from the crate.
The crooked blade pointed proudly toward the sky.
"I'll be back before dinner!"
"Before sunset," Lysa corrected.
"Before sunset!"
He bolted out the door like a fired arrow.
His small feet kicked up dust as he sprinted down the road toward the river.
Children's laughter carried through the fields beyond the village.
The world felt huge.
Bright.
Full of adventure waiting just past the next hill.
Behind him, Garrick watched his son disappear down the path.
"He's fearless," he said quietly.
Lysa followed his gaze.
"Or reckless."
Garrick smiled faintly.
"Same thing when you're six."
The hammer rang again a moment later.
CLANG.
And far down by the riverbank, Kael Thorne ran toward another ordinary day in Willowmere.
The path to the river wound through the back edge of Willowmere, where the houses thinned out and the land opened into fields. Wildflowers grew in messy patches along the dirt road, bending lazily in the warm breeze.
Kael ran straight through them.
His wooden sword bounced against his shoulder with each step.
Grass brushed his bare ankles. A grasshopper leapt away as he passed. Somewhere overhead a hawk circled slowly, riding the wind.
He knew this path better than anyone.
At least, that was what he liked to tell people.
The river appeared ahead, bright and wide, sliding gently between smooth stones and sandy banks. Tall reeds whispered along the water's edge, and the old willow tree leaned over the bend like a watchful giant.
Children were already there.
Bram spotted him first.
"Kael!"
Kael sprinted the last stretch and skidded to a stop near the bank.
Bram stood ankle-deep in the water holding a stick that looked like it had once been part of a fence. Elin sat on a rock nearby, carefully stacking flat stones into a wobbly tower. Tomas was crouched in the mud, poking something suspicious with a twig.
"You're late," Elin said without looking up.
"I fought two enemies," Kael announced.
Bram's eyes widened.
"Really?"
"Yes."
Tomas glanced over his shoulder.
"Did you win?"
"Obviously."
Elin flicked a pebble into the river.
"You always say that."
Kael planted his wooden sword into the sand like a banner.
"Because it's true."
Bram grinned and waded out of the water.
"You should've seen him earlier," he said to the others. "He scared off Joren and Mik."
Kael tried to look humble.
It did not work very well.
Tomas stood up and wiped his muddy hands on his tunic.
"Come look," he said.
Kael walked over.
In the shallow mud near the bank sat a tiny turtle the size of a plum.
Its little legs paddled uselessly as it tried to crawl out of the shallow hole Tomas had accidentally made.
"It was stuck," Tomas said defensively. "I didn't mean to trap it."
Kael crouched down.
The turtle blinked slowly, its tiny head poking out of its shell.
Kael carefully scooped it up with both hands.
"Hey there."
The shell felt smooth and cool against his palms.
Elin leaned over his shoulder.
"It's cute."
Bram crouched too.
"Where'd it come from?"
Kael looked toward the reeds.
"Probably the river."
He walked over and gently set the turtle near the water's edge.
For a moment it stayed perfectly still.
Then it slowly crawled forward and slipped into the river with a small splash.
Bram clapped.
"We saved it."
Kael nodded seriously.
"Another victory."
Elin rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.
Tomas picked up a flat stone and tossed it across the water.
It skipped once.
Twice.
Then sank.
"Beat that," he said.
Kael grabbed a stone and threw it.
It hit the water with the grace of a falling potato.
SPLOOSH.
Everyone burst out laughing.
"That was terrible," Elin said.
Kael pointed accusingly at the river.
"The water cheated."
They spent the next hour exploring the bank.
They hunted for frogs in the reeds.
Tried to skip stones.
Built a small fort out of driftwood that immediately collapsed.
Bram attempted to catch a fish with his hands and fell face-first into the shallows.
Kael laughed so hard he fell backward into the sand.
The sun climbed higher in the sky.
The village bell rang faintly in the distance.
Life in Willowmere carried on peacefully.
Eventually the four children sprawled beneath the great willow tree, catching their breath.
The branches hung low above them, long leaves swaying softly in the breeze.
Kael lay on his back, staring up through the green curtain of leaves.
"What do you guys want to be when you're older?" Bram asked suddenly.
Tomas answered first.
"My dad says I'll be a carpenter."
Elin shrugged.
"My mom says I'm going to help with the goats."
Bram looked at Kael.
"What about you?"
Kael didn't hesitate.
"A knight."
The word came out with complete certainty.
Bram smiled.
"That makes sense."
Tomas nodded.
"You already fight people."
Elin sat up and poked Kael's shoulder.
"You're too small to be a knight."
Kael sat up immediately.
"I am not."
"You are."
"I'm growing."
"Slowly."
Kael grabbed his wooden sword and pointed it dramatically toward the horizon.
"Someday," he declared, "I'll leave Willowmere and fight monsters and protect people and ride a giant horse and—"
A loud splash interrupted him.
Everyone turned.
Bram stood waist-deep in the river again, looking guilty.
"…I slipped."
Kael groaned.
Elin laughed.
The willow leaves rustled overhead as the afternoon drifted forward, quiet and golden.
Just another peaceful day by the river.
None of them knew that one day, far from Willowmere, Kael Thorne would remember moments like this with an ache sharp enough to steal the air from his lungs.
The sun had begun to dip when the children finally left the river.
The afternoon light stretched long across the fields, turning the tall grass into waves of gold. Crickets had started their evening songs, and smoke from the village chimneys drifted lazily into the cooling air.
Elin was the first to stand.
"My mom's going to yell if I'm late again."
"She always yells," Tomas said.
"Yes, but louder if I'm late."
Bram shook water from his sleeves and grabbed a stick to use as a walking staff.
"Race you to the road."
Before anyone could answer, he took off running.
"Hey!" Kael shouted, scrambling to his feet.
The others followed, laughter trailing behind them as they sprinted across the field. Bram reached the road first and threw his arms in the air like a champion.
"I win!"
"You cheated," Tomas said, out of breath.
"I ran faster."
"That's cheating."
They walked the rest of the way together, kicking stones and arguing about who would win in a real battle.
At the edge of the village the road split.
Elin pointed down one lane.
"See you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," Bram said.
Tomas waved.
"Don't fight anyone else before breakfast."
Kael made no promises.
One by one the others disappeared toward their homes.
Soon the road grew quiet.
Kael walked the last stretch alone.
The sky above Willowmere had turned soft orange and pink, the kind of evening that made the whole village feel warm and sleepy. Chickens clucked as they were herded into coops. Someone was playing a fiddle somewhere near the square.
Kael swung his wooden sword as he walked, slicing imaginary enemies.
But his thoughts were somewhere else.
Bram had two brothers.
Elin had a little sister.
Even Tomas had a baby brother that cried all the time.
Kael frowned.
He didn't have anyone.
Sure, his parents were great.
But they were adults.
You couldn't practice sword fighting with adults.
He kicked a small rock down the road.
A sibling would be perfect.
Someone to train with.
Someone to defend the house with if bandits came.
Someone who understood the importance of heroic battles in the yard.
The more he thought about it…
…the more obvious it seemed.
He needed a sibling.
Kael nodded to himself.
Yes.
This was clearly a serious issue.
By the time he reached the forge, he had already decided he would solve it immediately.
The forge doors were still open.
Inside, Garrick was stacking finished horseshoes onto a wooden shelf. Lysa sat at the small table sorting herbs into bundles.
Kael marched straight inside with the determination of a tiny general.
"Mom. Dad."
Both of them looked up.
"Yes?" Lysa asked.
Kael planted his sword into the floor and put his hands on his hips.
"I need a sibling."
Silence filled the forge.
Garrick blinked.
Lysa blinked.
Kael waited patiently.
"Well?" he said.
Garrick scratched his beard.
"That's… direct."
"All the other kids have siblings," Kael continued. "Bram has two. Tomas has a baby one. Even Elin has a sister."
Lysa tried very hard not to smile.
"And why," she asked gently, "do you need one?"
Kael looked mildly offended by the question.
"To fight with."
Garrick coughed.
"And defend the house with," Kael added quickly. "If enemies attack."
"Enemies," Garrick repeated.
"Yes."
Kael leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was discussing military strategy.
"And also… who else am I supposed to train with?"
Lysa pressed her lips together.
Garrick looked like he might explode from holding in laughter.
Kael crossed his arms.
"I'm serious."
"We can see that," Lysa said.
Kael studied them suspiciously.
Then a new thought hit him.
"How do you even make siblings?"
Garrick choked.
Lysa stared at the ceiling.
Kael continued thoughtfully.
"Do they just… appear?"
"No," Lysa said quickly.
"Do you have to build them?"
"No."
"Then how—"
Before the question could continue, a shadow fell across the forge doorway.
A deep voice spoke.
"Evening, Garrick."
Kael turned.
Standing outside was Chief Halren, the village elder.
Halren was old but still broad-shouldered, with gray hair tied at the back of his neck and a thick cloak draped over one arm. His lined face carried the kind of calm seriousness people trusted.
Garrick straightened.
"Chief."
Halren stepped inside and nodded politely to Lysa.
"Evening, healer."
"Chief Halren."
His gaze shifted to Kael.
"And young Thorne."
Kael stood up a little straighter.
"Hello, sir."
Halren smiled faintly.
"You've grown since last summer."
"I'm training to be a knight."
"I can see that."
Halren turned back to Garrick, the smile fading slightly.
"I was hoping to speak with you."
Garrick gestured toward the workbench.
"What's going on?"
Halren rested his hands on the table.
"The hunters are worried."
Lysa looked up from the herbs.
"About what?"
Halren sighed.
"The herds have moved early this year. Fewer deer in the southern woods. Fewer boar too."
Garrick frowned.
"That's not good."
"No," Halren agreed. "Winter's coming fast. If we don't gather enough meat before the snow sets in… it'll be a hard season."
The forge grew quiet.
Halren continued.
"I'm asking a few of the stronger men to help with the hunts. More hands in the forest. Track farther north if we have to."
He looked directly at Garrick.
"You still know a bow?"
Garrick nodded slowly.
"Well enough."
"I'd appreciate the help."
Kael's eyes lit up instantly.
"I'll help!"
All three adults looked at him.
Kael puffed out his chest.
"I'm very strong."
"You're six," Lysa said.
"I can carry things!"
"You can barely carry a bucket."
"I can carry arrows!"
Garrick rubbed his forehead.
Halren chuckled softly.
"He's eager."
Kael pointed his sword toward the door.
"I'll guard everyone."
"That's very brave," Halren said.
Kael nodded proudly.
Garrick looked down at his son, then back at the chief.
"I'll help with the hunt."
Halren gave a grateful nod.
"Good. We'll leave at first light tomorrow."
Kael gasped.
"Tomorrow?!"
His eyes shone like stars.
"I'm coming too!"
Lysa immediately shook her head.
"No."
Kael's shoulders dropped.
"But—"
"No."
He looked to Garrick.
"Dad?"
Garrick crouched beside him.
"Not this time, soldier."
Kael stared at the floor.
"…Next time?"
Garrick smiled faintly.
"Next time."
Kael sighed dramatically.
But inside, his mind was already racing.
Because tomorrow…
His dad was going on a hunt.
And Kael Thorne was very, very good at following people without being noticed.
Chief Halren did not stay long.
A few more quiet words were exchanged with Garrick about meeting near the north road before sunrise. Lysa packed the last of her herbs while the men spoke, her brow faintly furrowed with the kind of worry that came whenever winter was mentioned.
Kael stood nearby gripping his wooden sword, waiting for someone to remember that he had volunteered for the hunt.
No one did.
Eventually Halren nodded once, pulled his cloak around his shoulders, and stepped back into the evening air.
"I'll see you at first light," the chief said.
Garrick gave a short nod. "I'll be there."
Then Halren was gone, walking slowly down the road toward the center of the village.
The forge felt quieter after he left.
Kael stood there for a moment longer before the disappointment finally settled on his shoulders like a heavy blanket.
"You said next time," he muttered.
Garrick was already stacking tools near the anvil.
"I did."
"But the hunt is tomorrow."
"And you're still six."
Kael scuffed his foot against the floor.
"That's not very old."
"It's very old for climbing trees," Garrick said. "Not very old for chasing boar through the forest."
"I could chase a boar."
"No."
Kael sighed loudly enough for the entire forge to hear.
Lysa hid a small smile behind one of the herb bundles.
"Go wash up before dinner," she said gently.
Kael grabbed his wooden sword from the floor.
"Yes, ma'am."
But his voice carried the deep, tragic tone of someone who had been unfairly denied a glorious destiny.
He trudged out of the forge and down the road, kicking small stones ahead of him with unnecessary force.
The sky had deepened into soft purple and gold. Evening lamps flickered to life in the windows of Willowmere, and the smell of cooking stew drifted through the village.
Kael kicked another rock.
He could have helped.
He was very helpful.
He was excellent at carrying things.
And guarding things.
And yelling when danger appeared.
Another rock went skittering across the road.
Eventually he wandered toward the outer edge of the village, where the houses spread farther apart and the fields began.
That was when he heard the twang.
Kael stopped.
Another sharp snap followed, the sound of a bowstring cutting through the air.
He turned toward the open field near the treeline.
Down the slope stood Elin and her father.
Elin had her feet planted in the grass, bow held awkwardly in front of her. Her father, a tall man with weathered shoulders and dark hair tied behind his head, stood beside her adjusting the position of her arms.
Her father, Darin, was one of Willowmere's best hunters.
Everyone knew it.
He could track deer through snow, follow wolves across rocky hills, and bring down birds from half the sky away.
"Steady," Darin said calmly.
Elin squinted toward a wooden target set up against a stump about twenty paces away.
"Pull back a little farther."
"I am pulling!"
"Not enough."
"I can't!"
"You can."
The bowstring creaked as she strained.
Finally she released.
THWACK.
The arrow sailed wide and smacked into the dirt several feet from the target.
Elin groaned.
Kael had already crept closer, completely forgetting his disappointment.
He stood near the fence watching with wide eyes.
Darin noticed him first.
"Well look at that," he said, lowering his voice slightly. "Got ourselves an audience."
Elin turned and groaned again.
"Oh no."
Kael stepped closer.
"That was amazing."
"It was terrible," Elin said.
"It flew really fast."
"It flew into the ground."
Kael stared at the bow like it was a magical artifact.
"How does it work?"
Darin chuckled.
"You've never used a bow before?"
Kael shook his head.
"My dad teaches swords."
"Ah," Darin said. "Knight training."
Kael nodded proudly.
But his eyes were still locked onto the bow.
"Can I try?"
Elin crossed her arms.
"You'll be worse than me."
Kael looked horrified.
"I will not."
Darin studied him for a moment, then shrugged.
"Why not."
Elin groaned again.
Darin took the bow from her and handed it to Kael.
It felt heavier than Kael expected.
The wood was smooth and warm from Elin's hands.
Kael held it like a sword.
"That's already wrong," Elin said.
Darin gently turned the bow sideways.
"Hold it like this."
Kael adjusted his grip.
"And the string?" Kael asked.
"You pull it."
"With what?"
"Your fingers."
"Won't it snap my hand off?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Darin handed him an arrow.
Kael studied it intensely.
"What's this part?"
"The arrowhead."
"And this?"
"The fletching."
"What does it do?"
"It keeps the arrow straight."
"And this?"
"The shaft."
Elin sighed loudly.
"He's going to ask about every piece."
Kael carefully placed the arrow against the string.
"Like this?"
"Close," Darin said.
He adjusted Kael's hands and nudged his elbow upward.
"Now pull back."
Kael pulled.
The bowstring moved about three inches.
"Harder."
Kael pulled again.
The bowstring creaked.
His arms trembled.
His face scrunched in concentration.
"Now aim," Darin said.
Kael squinted at the target.
He had absolutely no idea what aiming meant.
He released.
The arrow launched forward with impressive enthusiasm.
Then it veered wildly to the left and disappeared into the grass.
Elin burst out laughing.
"That was worse than mine!"
Kael blinked.
"…I think the bow is broken."
Darin laughed.
"The bow is fine."
Kael frowned thoughtfully.
"Can I try again?"
Darin handed him another arrow.
This time Kael held the bow a little differently.
Not perfectly.
But better.
He pulled the string back again.
This time farther.
The motion felt strange at first.
But something about it made sense in his hands.
The tension.
The balance.
The way the arrow rested against the string.
He released.
THUNK.
The arrow struck the outer edge of the target.
Everyone froze.
Elin stared.
Darin raised an eyebrow.
"Well now."
Kael stared at the target too.
"I did it!"
Elin walked closer to the target and examined the arrow sticking from the wood.
"That was lucky."
"Was not."
"Was too."
Kael grabbed another arrow.
"Again."
This time he didn't ask questions.
He simply lifted the bow.
Pulled.
Aimed.
Released.
THUNK.
The arrow struck much closer to the center.
Darin's expression changed slightly.
Elin looked back at Kael.
"…Wait."
Kael grinned.
"Oh this is fun."
The bow felt natural in his hands now.
Like it belonged there.
Like his body already understood something his mind had just learned.
Darin crossed his arms slowly.
"Garrick's boy," he muttered.
Kael pulled another arrow from the quiver.
And for the first time that evening, he completely forgot about dinner.
Kael loosed the third arrow before anyone could say another word.
The bowstring snapped forward with a sharp twang, and the arrow cut through the air in a clean line.
THUNK.
This one struck the target just beside the previous arrow.
Not perfect.
But close enough that Elin's mouth slowly fell open.
"…That was not luck."
Kael lowered the bow slowly, staring at the target like it had personally surprised him.
"I did it again."
Darin stepped forward, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he looked at the arrows embedded in the wood.
"Hm."
Elin folded her arms.
"That's not fair," she muttered.
"You've been teaching me for three weeks."
Kael turned the bow over in his hands, studying it again.
"It's easier than swords."
Elin's head snapped toward him.
"It is not!"
Kael shrugged.
"With swords you have to move a lot."
"You have to move with a bow too!"
"No you don't," Kael said confidently.
Darin chuckled quietly.
"That confidence will get you into trouble someday."
Kael lifted the bow again.
"How far can it shoot?"
"Depends on the bow," Darin said.
"And the arrow."
"And the wind."
"And the person shooting."
Kael squinted toward the distant tree line like he was calculating something very serious.
"So… very far."
"Very far," Darin agreed.
Kael looked down at the arrow in his hand.
"How do you know where it will land?"
"You practice."
Kael nodded slowly.
That made sense.
Practice solved most things.
He drew the string again, slower this time. His small fingers curled around the string the way Darin had shown him. The arrow rested against the wood, light but steady.
For a moment he simply held it there, feeling the tension of the bow.
Something about the pull of it felt right.
Balanced.
Like the moment just before swinging a sword.
He released.
The arrow struck the target again, this time barely a handspan from the center.
Darin let out a low whistle.
"Well now."
Elin turned to him.
"You saw that."
"I did."
Kael lowered the bow with a satisfied grin.
"I'm good at this."
Elin stomped over to the target and yanked the arrows out one by one.
"I hate you."
"You do not."
"I do."
"You just don't like losing."
"I'm not losing!"
She shoved the arrows back into the quiver and returned to them with narrowed eyes.
Darin reached out and took the bow from Kael.
"That's enough for today."
Kael immediately looked offended.
"But I'm getting better."
"That's exactly why we're stopping."
"What?"
Darin slung the bow over his shoulder.
"You start thinking you're perfect, that's when you make mistakes."
Kael frowned.
"I wasn't thinking that."
"You were about two arrows away from saying it."
Kael considered this.
"…Maybe."
Elin snatched the quiver back from her father.
"I'm still practicing," she declared.
Darin laughed and ruffled her hair.
"You'll get there."
Kael watched them for a moment, then kicked at the grass.
The thought of the hunt returned to him like a stubborn fly.
He imagined the men walking through the forest.
Bows in hand.
Tracking deer.
Maybe even wolves.
His stomach twisted with excitement.
And frustration.
"I wish I could go tomorrow," he muttered.
Darin glanced at him.
"The hunt?"
Kael nodded.
"My dad said no."
"Well," Darin said calmly, "your father's a smart man."
Kael scuffed his foot against the dirt.
"I could help."
"You'd slow us down."
"I wouldn't."
"You would."
Kael sighed dramatically.
Elin stuck another arrow into the bowstring.
"You'd probably trip over a root."
"I would not."
"You trip over everything."
"That was one time!"
Elin released the arrow.
It struck the lower edge of the target with a dull thud.
"Ha," she said.
Kael grabbed his wooden sword from where he'd leaned it against the fence.
"Well," he said importantly, "when monsters attack the village someday, I'll be the one saving everyone."
"Sure," Elin said.
"And I'll be the one shooting them," she added.
Darin laughed again.
The sky had darkened into deep evening now. The first stars had begun to prick through the fading light, and the air had cooled enough that Kael's stomach reminded him very loudly that he had missed dinner.
He turned toward the road.
"I should go before my mom comes looking."
"That would be wise," Darin said.
Elin waved lazily.
"Try not to start another war tomorrow."
Kael grinned.
"No promises."
He jogged back toward the village, wooden sword bouncing against his shoulder again.
Behind him the bowstring snapped once more as Elin continued practicing.
Ahead of him, warm lantern light glowed from the windows of Willowmere.
Dinner waited.
His parents waited.
And somewhere deep in the back of his mind, a very stubborn thought had already taken root.
Tomorrow morning…
The hunters would leave before sunrise.
And Kael Thorne was very good at waking up early when adventure was involved.