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“Hello,” the captain of the guard, Marcus, called, giving a short bow to the men. “Welcome to the Thimmarian castle. I trust your journey was uneventful.”
An impressive man approached the captain. His fur cloak seemed to be made of wolf hides in a mismatch of hair that looked seamless. It was an impressive piece of clothing for a massive man, and I wondered who made it for him and how many hides it took.
“The journey was good,” the man replied with a deep brogue that reminded me of the sound of rocks hitting another rock.
“Do you need help?” Captain Marcus asked him.
“No, we will unload the ladies, then their things,” he answered, then turned and whistled sharply, giving his men a signal, I couldn’t see—what with his back turned and all.
As if feeling my eyes on him, he turned and met them for a brief second before I dropped my gaze, acting demure. While my outward appearance matched that of my fellow ladies, my heart was galloping a like a herd of wild horses in my chest. His irises were a strange mixture of blue, green, and brown, reminding me of a pond's reflection deep in a forest. There was something wild and untamable in them and it intrigued me.
My fingers itched for my bow string. I felt safest with my favorite weapon at my side, but that would be unseemly for a lady. Of course, with my name being Arrow, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that I was drawn to the bow, but from the first time I picked it up, I was filled with a sense of rightness. Of safety. I had been wielding the weapon ever since my father saved me from a momma bear, who attacked me to protect her cub.
“What have I told you about babies and their mommas? They are vicious, Arrow. Leave them be. Now that cub is without its mother, and probably won’t survive the coming winter.”
“Sorry, Papa,” I’d cried, throwing my arms around his neck. “I was just trying to see if his momma was close by. He was all alone. I thought he was in trouble.”
“Mommas are never far from their babies,” he replied, pulling me closer to him. “Your momma is never far from you either.”
“I miss her,” I sniffled.
“I do too, Row. I do too.”
“What will happen to the cub?” I asked him, heartbroken by his mother’s fate.
“I think he might be old enough to take care of himself, but I’ll have Naille track him for a time, to ensure his survival.”
“Lady Arrow?” A voice asked, shaking me from my memories.
“I’m terribly sorry,” I replied automatically, raising my head and placing a hand to the base of my throat.
“Are you well?” Captain Marcus asked, eyeing me. He knew from my days watching him train his men that I was no delicate flower but could probably beat his best with just my bow and quiver.
“Yes, Captain, thank you. I’m not used to this hour,” I replied, the lie falling easily from my lips.
His eyebrows raised slightly, like he knew better, which he probably did. Nothing got past the man who was in his prime, and yet, he complained constantly about being in his later years.
“This is Samson Rekker, the Captain of the guard for the Bruralian stronghold,” Captain Marcus introduced the impressive man with the wolf hide cloak.
“A pleasure,” I offered, bowing my head and doing my best to calm my racing pulse.
I straightened, lifting my eyes to meet those of Captain Rekker, the barbarian leader from Brural. His eyes were just as unnerving up close as they were from a distance, but I noticed a shadow within them, reminiscent of a cloud blowing in front of the sun and blocking its light from shining on the pond. There was something about the wildness in him that drew me in. Spoke to the wild part of myself.
He returned my bow, but then his nostrils flared like he was inhaling my scent. I swallowed, realizing why my father had compared the men of Brural to beasts. The same feeling, I had when the momma bear met my eyes, right before she charged, coursed through me.
This man was dangerous.
“Rekker is... an interesting surname,” I commented, realizing too late how rude that sounded.
“It’s not a surname. We receive our name for how we fight,” he explained, and a shiver ran down my spine. He obviously fought furiously, and most importantly, without remorse.
“Then Lady Arrow’s name would be Cunning or Sniper,” Captain Marcus added with a rare smile and chuckle.
“I thought your women didn’t wield weapons,” Captain Rekker remarked to Captain Marcus curiously.
“They don’t, usually. However, Lady Arrow is adept with a bow, or at least she was five years ago when she came here.”
“Thank you, Captain. That’s very kind.” I smiled, pleased that someone appreciated my skill.
