The arrow
1. I stared into death’s eyes as I had done countless other times. He blinked back, still and unnerving, and as it huffed out a low, daring breath, I wondered if I would meet his eyes with the same coolness when he came for me. When he would eventually face me down - merciless and unyielding.
But death couldn’t reach me. Even he, the angry boar who I had stumbled upon, couldn’t climb after me in the tree I had scaled mere moments ago. He huffed and puffed, circling the trunk, the damp earth beneath his hooves churning with every heavy step. His beady, shimmering eyes locked onto me, unblinking, as if undecided if ramming the old oak I was nestled in was worth it. The sharp tang of the animal’s stench mingled with the earthy scent of crushed leaves, like a warning of its anger.
I shifted into a more comfortable position on the thick branch, bracing my legs on either side, letting my thighs press against the sharp, rough bite of the bark. I pulled myself up straighter, adjusting my crimson cloak so that I wouldn’t get tangled in it. I wouldn’t fall, I knew it. I also didn’t want to take any chances. I briefly wondered if it was the color of my cloak and hair that had angered my pursuer, or that I had gotten too close to the animal while hunting - I had the habit of not knowing when I was in too deep after all. Well, that’s what my brother kept saying anyway.
I inhaled sharply. The boar’s low breath ruffled the golden leaves carpeting the forest floor, a subtle reminder of how close he lingered. I tilted my head slightly, watching him carefully, every muscle in my body taut and ready. I had to find a way back before dinner or Gran and John would realize I was missing. And they wouldn’t just scold me, they’d send half the village searching, convinced I’d been devoured by wolves. And once they found me - if they did, I’d lose the forest for good.
I bit my lips, thinking for a tense moment before deciding that enough was enough. The trek home was long enough without those black eyes trailing behind me. I shifted slowly, pulling myself up on the branch, my fingers digging into the trunk as I steadied my swaying body. With my knees bent, I reached for the bow hanging on my back, curling my hand around its smooth, polished curve. I nocked an arrow, forcing my fingers to stay still, letting the thrill of the hunt course through my veins as the tension from the string vibrated in the chill of the late-afternoon air.
I was not that stupid as to aim for the animal, which wouldn’t have gone down in any way with my one stray arrow - not that I intended to hurt a creature protecting itself. I laid my eyes on a particularly noisy mess of leaves instead, not too far away, that I knew for a fact had a trap under it.
I did it just like John had taught me, letting out a slow, steading breath as I pulled the arrow back on the string. All of me zeroed in on my mark, willing it to land where I wanted it to, imagining as it coursed through the air. The taut string bit into my fingers, the familiar tension a small comfort against the chaos staring up at me from below. My breaths were shallow as I aimed for the trap buried beneath a carpet of leaves. Then I let it go.
The arrow screamed past the branches, finding its mark with a satisfying thud. The reaction was instantaneous, the snare clapping in on itself in a loud pang, lifting into the air with a flurry of leaves flying all around the monstrous cage.
The boar squealed loudly, throwing up dirt around the base of the tree as it ran, desperate to escape, not once looking back. Smiling to myself, I sheathed my bow, descending from my spot in a fluid, practiced motion, like I’d done ever since I’d learned how to walk. My boots dug into the ground, and I huffed out a small breath of appreciation that faith was once again on my side. I dusted off my cape and clothes from all the leaves and bark, then started towards the trap I had set off to retrieve my arrow, the leaves crunching under my feet with each step.
I hadn’t been able to get my hands on any new arrows. Not since the wolf craze had begun two moons ago and my brother forbade me from entering the forest. Not only were the ones I had more precious than most of the things I owned, but also a clear sign of my misdemeanor that I couldn’t afford John or anyone else finding.
I wanted to keep being a shadow for a little longer.
The trap was a thing of horror, a giant metal cage that snapped in around my arrow before lifting it into air half of my height in a flurry of dirt and leaves. An involuntary shudder ran through me as I grabbed a hold of the metal and half-heaved myself up, half-jumped to reach my prize. I knew it was meant to trap wolves, but seeing it up close I couldn’t help but think of just what beast it had to be to warrant such extreme measures. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, even if the voice in the back of my head said otherwise.
I tucked the arrow back into the safety of my sheath hanging on my back as soon as my fingers curled around it, next to the six others I had. Seven in total. I used to have ten, but I lost three of them the last full moon to an ill set trap that a wolf clawed its way out of. The beast not only destroyed the crate, but my precious strayed arrows as well. Heat creeped up my neck upon the memory, but I brushed it away. I didn’t want to dwell on how many more I would lose this time around.
I turned on my heels to slowly make my way back to the village, when I heard the unmistakable crunch of leaves and twigs. My pulse roared in my ears as I spun, my fingers reaching for my bow on their own accord.
Something hissed before splintering wood. My breath caught as the arrow whistled past my ear, missing me by a hair, before burying itself somewhere behind me.
For a moment, I was too stunned to breathe. The world shrank, my senses locking onto the dull, creeping warmth trailing lazily down my arm. The world seemed to stop when I glanced down. My skin was split open under my torn, white blouse.
I stared at the graze growing redder and angrier with every tense moment that passed by, like spilled ink on fresh parchment. The air felt suffocatingly thick around me, not even the numbness of the shock hiding the sting. Someone shot me. My breath came hitched, panic lancing in me as I looked from my arm to the bushes, to the arrow lying behind me. My head swivelled, my body readying itself for the threat as the low grunt came louder from the trees.
“Jesus, Red! Are you - oh, hell.”
The village smith, Craig, tore into the clearing, his movements alike to a frantic animal. His old, grey eyes widened as they took me in, his face falling when he saw the blood staining my shirt. “Shit.” The word rasped out of him like something torn loose.
I barely registered his presence, my breath still coming too sharp, too ragged. The arrow. The blood. My blood.
Craig ran a shaking hand through his graying hair. “God, I - I didn’t mean…Red, I didn’t think-” He gestured vaguely at the forest, then at the bow in his other hand. “The trap, it went off…I thought it was-”
I forced myself to inhale, to push down the sting, to think.
“I’m fine,” I muttered, dragging my cloak over the wound. The warmth of my blood stuck to my skin, unsettling. But it was just a graze. And I was okay.
And yet Craig was still staring like I were a ghost. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I just saw movement, and - and I panicked.” He sounded wrecked. “Damn it. I shouldn’t even be out here with this thing.” He shook the bow slightly, like it was his mistake for even holding it.
The man had never held a bow and arrow in his hands before the wolf season had begun, and it showed. Two moons had certainly not made him any better of a shot. There wasn’t enough time, or who to teach him. Any of them. He, just like many others, had only taken it up to help with protecting the village. Alongside my brother, who led them.
“It’s okay,” I said, though my heart still pounded in my throat. “Really.”
Craig didn’t look convinced. His mouth trembled under his thick mustache, and his hands twitched at his sides. “No. No, it’s not. I…I have to tell Jonathan. And your gran.”
Something cold slid through me, sharper than the cut on my arm. “No.”
My brother had already forbidden me from the woods, treating me like a prisoner in my own home. And Gran would lock me up without thinking if she thought it would keep me safe. If they found out about my little escapade from Craig - I froze, my mind frantically reeling with images of my freedom slipping through my fingers. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. This couldn’t be happening.
Craig blinked. “Red, I-”
“Please.” I gripped my cloak tighter. “They already worry enough. If John finds out, he’ll - he’ll blow this out of proportion. He might even keep you from next week’s hunt.” My voice was steady, but inside, I was spiraling into something way deeper, way darker than the forest. “This was my mistake, not yours.”
Craig exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. He looked torn. Hesitating.
“Sir, please,” I pressed. “Don’t let one stray shot ruin everything.”
He glanced at the bow in his hands. Then at me and how I cowered my arm. His lips parted, like he was about to say something, but then he only shook his head. I felt my stomach fall.
“Red, dear,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I know you love the forest like your own kin, but you have to understand - this place is dangerous. There’s a reason why your brother doesn’t want you out here.” He hesitated. Then, softer, “Go home. I’ll come later.”
I clenched my jaw. No, this couldn’t be it. “Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?” I asked one last time, but he didn’t answer, only blinking back solemnly.
“Fine.” I breathed, frustration bubbling under my skin. John was going to kill me. Gran was going to do worse. I was done for. No more forest. No more nothing.
I looked back at the smith watching me go, the trap in the air, and a speck of my blood glinting on the foliage. Red like my cloak and hair, like a part of me left behind.
Without a backward glance, I pulled my hood over my head, then slipped into the forest’s shadows, my departure leaving only a whisper of crimson in the twilight.
