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Hannah bowed.
“Fellow archers and honored islanders,” Nikita said as she turned in a circle. “On this beautiful day on Archer Island, it is my pleasure to once again honor Hannah.” The crowd roared. “For the sixth year in a row!” Nikita held a hand toward Anna, who graced it with a golden arrow. “The cupid’s arrow is once again yours, my dear. Well done.” She placed it in Hannah’s extended hands.
She bowed, took a step back, and raised it exuberantly over her head to more cheers. “Thank you, my friends and fellow competitors. I am humbled beyond words, and I accept this on your behalf.” She motioned to the other archers. “You are truly the most amazing archers I have had the pleasure to work with and call friends. I’m honored to be in your presence.” She placed her hand over her heart and bowed. “Now, please,” she said as she stood, “everyone, join me in a celebration at Brea’s.”The crowd once again exploded in cheers, then rapidly began dispersing toward town on horseback, on foot, or by teleporting.
As Hannah dropped the golden arrow in her quiver, Piper approached once more. “Shall I ride with you or meet you there?” she asked as she sat on the bare back of her palomino mare.
“Go join the festivities and order me a drink. Let Brea know I’ll be there shortly.”
“Sounds good.” The slightest clicking sound sent her horse in the same direction as those before her, leaving Hannah alone in the field. She took a moment and glanced again at the tree that still held the arrows, but only one was dead center. From this distance, the pea was still impossible to see. She took a moment to lower her head and whisper her gratitude to the wind. Her words were answered by a small cyclone that circled for a moment before dancing down the field, picking up and redispersing debris in its wake. Hannah chuckled. “You are a bit of a trickster, my friend.”
She whistled three short bursts, and within seconds, Bella, her black Friesian, was galloping toward her. The mare stood at sixteen hands, her lean and well-defined muscles flexing with each step that pounded the ground. There was nothing in this world more magnificent. Several yards out, Bella slowed to a trot, then came to a stop within inches. Bella lowered her head and nuzzled Hannah’s chest.
Hannah leaned in and kissed her. “Hello, my beautiful friend, are you ready to get out of here?”
Bella bobbed her head and blew out a loud snort. “Well, all right, then, let’s go.” She grabbed a handful of mane and swung over the broad back. She took a second to settle close to Bella’s withers, then bent to stroke her neck. Her earthy scent was as soothing as the smell of fresh-baked apple pie. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Bella was her rock, her Zen, her everything,and she’d come into Hannah’s life in adolescence, when Oriana had told her that her distractions were getting the better of her discipline.
“Horses have a way of settling one’s soul,” Oriana had told her when she’d requested Hannah join her the night her mare was foaling. “The foal is yours. And if you two bond, you will share a connection unlike any you have yet to experience.”
For the first three months, Hannah had slept in the stable with Bella and her dam, talking and imprinting as much as possible. By the time Bella was old enough to ride, Hannah had already taught her a variety of hand signals, whistles, and words. Now at ten, Bella seemed to understand everything about Hannah and vice versa.
And if ever there came a day when Bella wanted to leave, she could live amongst the wild horse herds that roamed the island. On Archer Island, it was against the law to force another soul into something against their will.
“Let’s circle by the lake. How does that sound?”
Bella bobbed her head and galloped to the east as Hannah gripped with her thighs and curled her fingers tighter around Bella’s mane.
“Run, my friend. Run!” It was another beautiful day, she’d just won her sixth cupid competition, and she was spending time with her beloved horse. She felt happy, blessed, and was living her destiny. She couldn’t imagine a single thing in the universe that could ever compare.
Fifteen minutes later, Bella slowed to a walk. A crystal-clear lake sat at the base of a forty-foot waterfall, a double rainbow rising from the mist. Bella lowered her head to forage. Normally, Hannah would dismount, undress, and enjoy an invigorating swim or sit against one of the many trees and let her mind drift. But she needed to get to Brea’s, where the celebration in her honor was sure to have begun. Still, she couldn’t help but pauseand take in the beauty of the area. This place not only grounded her; it spoke to her. And at this very spot, the wind had first introduced itself. She glanced at the tree that still bore the circle she’d etched into its bark as a child and let her mind drift back to how it all began:
It was the summer of her fifth year, and a handful of elders rounded her and Piper up with the other toddlers of equal age and began testing them on which skills were naturally inherent within them.They were placed in a large room filled with items and trinkets that represented every skillset on the island and encouraged to play with whatever sparked their interest. Hannah strolled around the room, letting her fingers glide over several objects. When she paused and displayed any sign of curiosity, she sensed the watchful elders taking notes and whispering among themselves. But as the day lingered, nothing seemed to hold her interest or entice her.
Piper, on the other hand, had been playing with a cauldron for hours, and while Hannah was curious about the artifact, it did not call to her. On her second rotation around the room, she noticed the tip of a bow that she had overlooked on her first pass sticking out from behind an anvil. As she slowly walked over, the bow seemed to glow, and the moment she reached for it, a tingle shot through her arm. She moved it from one hand to another as she mimicked shooting arrows. The bow felt so natural in her hands, it was as though it was an extension of her, and she somehow knew this was her calling. By the end of the day, when the elders rounded them up to return to their homes, they told Hannah she needed to leave the bow in the room. After her ear-piercing scream and full-blown temper tantum, they quickly agreed that it would be in everyone’s best interests if she kept the bow.
On the morning of the winter solstice, Hannah and Piper were swept away to attend the Archer Island Academy to master their skills. Hannah was to study under Oriana, and since Piper had been drawn to craftsmanship and magic, she would study under Isabella, master fletcher and spellcaster. Hannah and Piper were called prodigies, and their teachers seemed to be in awe of their abilities.
One particular morning, in between lessons at the academy, Hannah went to the lake to practice shooting. She grabbed a stone, chose a tree, and etched a circled into its bark. She’d seen the annual competition of cupids recently, so she imagined herself as one and dug an indentation dead center to mimic the pea that had seemed to elude the skill of the island’s archers. She walked off fifty-yards and marked the spot with a stone cairn. An ambitious range, but she was an archer prodigy. There was nothing she couldn’t do.
She placed her foot next to the rocks, took a deep breath, and fired her entire quiver. But every arrow fell short. Though discouraged, she retrieved them, returned to the stones, and shot them again, one after the other.
By the end of the day, after hundreds of attempts, she’d hit the tree less than a dozen times, and none were anywhere close to the circle. The frustration wore away her patience and confidence. “One last quiver,” she mumbled to herself. The sun was setting, and she needed to get back to the academy. She grabbed an arrow, nocked it, and took a deep breath. She closed one eye and focused on the circle with her other. The moment she released, a gust of wind swooped in and held the arrow in place for a few seconds before dropping it to the ground. She stood bewildered at what just happened. She glanced at the trees and lake. The leaves were as still as stones and the water as smooth as glass.
“Huh. That was weird.” She grabbed another arrow and repeated the motion only to have the wind stop it and deposit it next to the other. A flash of anger boiled to the surface. For the past few years, she had been praised by teachers, showcased in exhibitions, and was being molded to be the island’s best. She competed against archers twice her age, and now the wind had the audacity to mock her?
She remembered Piper talking about working with the elements of fire, water, earth and air, and how difficult and temperamental they could be. But Hannah was an archer, not a spellcaster, so why was the air messing with her?
This has to be a fluke, she convinced herself. With regained confidence, she rapidly fired the remaining arrows in her quiver. Seconds later, she growled in exasperation at the pile of arrows stacked a few yards from her feet. “Stop doing that!” In a huff, she kicked the ground, scooped up her arrows, shoved them in her quiver, and stomped back to the academy. Stupid wind.
When she told Piper about it over dinner, Piper said that, according to Isabella, the elements could be real tricksters at times. But those who befriended them would always have power on their side. “Either the air is having fun on your behalf, or it’s trying to befriend you,” Piper said. “If it happens again, take the time to pay attention because it may be trying to speak to you.”
Hannah scoffed, certain that the wind was mocking her, and she had no desire to listen to whatever it had to say. Besides, what could she possibly gain from befriending the element of air?
The next morning, when she returned to the lake, she again stood next to the stones and nocked an arrow. If the wind decided to make its presence known, she was going to show it who was boss. She fired off the first arrow into stillness. Although it fellshort by several feet, there was no interference. She grabbed another arrow, took a breath, and shot. A gust of wind swirled around her and slammed the arrow to her feet.
Hannah stabbed at the air in frustration. “Will you stop that!” She nocked another and pulled the string taut. But this time, she mimicked the act of releasing it while holding on to the shaft. “Ha,” she called as the wind swirled around her. “Gotcha.” She smirked as she held the arrow out. A gust of air blew dust in her face, sending her into a coughing fit. She threw the arrow down and shoved her hands onto her hips. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you had better stop messing with me!”
She grunted as a cyclone circled her. But instead of being assaulted with the sound of howling wind, she heard distinct musical notes within the whistles of the air.
