Page 4 of Quiver

She shook her head slowly. She didn’t know how to explain. She’d made the choice, almost without thinking, and now she couldn’t turn back. The sweat pricking her skin turned to ice as the echoes of her past cackled at how fitting it would be for the same impulsiveness that had carried her away to also drag her back.

“Cancel all my other auditions until further notice.”

“Kye,” Mimi pushed, “did you get the part?”

She opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat until she shook them loose. She didn’t have another option. “Not yet, but if I want to, I have to go home.”

Chapter Two

“So, while a lot of people are coming to see mounted archery as a compelling sport, and it is, it’s also technically a martial art, and the most primal one on some levels.” Fletcher Bouchard spun an arrow in her hand as she scanned the faces of her audience. A few kids had clearly tuned her out, fascinated by the sharp point she held rather than the one she was trying to make, but the teens and adults eyed her with rapt attention. Only her dog, Bear, seemed completely disinterested as he yawned from his spot at her feet.

“There are no style points in mounted archery, or horse archery as we often call it. You don’t have elaborate rules about form, and you can take your shot using techniques from any number of cultures, but you must hit your target and hit it fast.”

A teenage girl raised her hand, then blurted out a question she’d clearly been worrying about. “What if I don’t have my own horse?”

“Not a problem,” Fletcher said quickly. “It’s not uncommon for competitors in our community to share horses. We occasionally travel to faraway places. I’ve been to Japan and Kazakhstan and South Korea in the last few years. Going those kinds of distances is hard on horses, and on the competitor’s wallet.”

“What about equipment?” one of the dads interjected quickly.

“I have everything you’ll need to get started here, and if you or your children get hooked, you can start buying your own gear slowly. Bows, arrows, quivers, targets, I won’t lie, it adds up, but not all at once.”

“Do we have to ride super fast?” a younger boy called out.

“We’ll build up. I never let anyone get in over their head, and speaking of heads, anyone under eighteen must wear a helmet, but I strongly recommend it for everyone. There’ll also be waivers to sign, because going back to my previous point, horse archery has its roots in war, and while we’ll never, ever, point an arrow at anyone else, the skill set is based around shooting someone before they shoot you.”

Several of the parents shifted nervously, and she let the silence stretch. She didn’t want to scare anyone away from the sport she’d spent her life trying to build up, but a healthy dose of respect offered the best starting point for building a lifelong obsession, and that’s what she hoped to foster every time anyone joined her classes.

“That said, mounted archery takes skill, discipline, precision, speed, communication, physical fitness, and mental focus. It’s perfect for molding well-rounded, active, and attentive people. It’s also a truly exciting way to pass your time, which is why it’s the fastest growing discipline in all equine activities.” Fletcher smiled with a hint of pride. “And if you choose to start your journey here, I promise you’ll have every opportunity to succeed, no matter what your ambition.”

The same girl who started off the questions raised her hand again.

Fletcher nodded for her to continue.

“Is it true both your parents were Olympians?”

She tightened her jaw, but managed to sound even as she said, “Yes, they were.”

“Did they win any medals?”

She nodded again. “A few.”

A boy in the front perked up. “Did you win any medals?”

She shrugged. “Mounted archery isn’t an Olympic sport … yet, but I do have a room full of trophies and ribbons, even a few from world championships.”

Several of the parents shared approving glances, and she tried to appreciate that while her credentials didn’t carry the weight of an Olympic torch, they weren’t wasted on this crew. “For the people who join the class starting in January, you’ll have a chance to win some prizes of your own. At the end of our first session, we’ll have a competition with folks from out of town, and there’ll be a beginner’s bracket for the contest.”

“I’m going to crush it,” a teenage boy said. “Where do we sign up?”

Fletcher used the arrow to point to a table off to the side. “There are registration forms with a class schedule on the back. You can fill them out here or take them home and mail them in.”

Several kids made a mad dash toward the table, parents and friends scrambling to keep up, and she got a sense this group would be a good one. From the looks of people grabbing paperwork, she’d likely have a class of at least ten, and they’d span a good range of ages from about eleven to middle age, which would provide balance. Plus, she already knew several of them from either 4-H or local horse-riding connections, so she wouldn’t have to start from scratch.

“Hey Fletcher.” Bob McEnroe, one of her closest neighbors and high school classmates clasped her on the shoulder, then nodded to his twelve-year-old daughter, who was snagging a form. “Looks like you got Jenny excited.”

“Good. You’re not going to let her go it alone, are you?”

He scratched the stubble on his chin. “You know, I’ve never been great with a bow.”