10. Unbalanced
"I promise I won't kill you," Tricia said with a tinkling laugh that would have been sinister in someone with a less-sweet face. She bent her longbow.
"I - I really think my talents could be better used in other ways," Odie insisted from his position against a tree, an apple suspended precariously between his antlers.
"No fear," Tricia assured him. "I've been doing this for years. I used to practice on Uncle, and you know he's a much larger target."
"His skull is rather thicker - YAAH!" Odie crumpled, practically melted to the ground, not pausing to look up at the apple neatly impaled by Tricia's arrow.
Levin snorted and shook his head. "Idiot. He was trying to impress her."
Vitali raised his eyebrow at the guard across the cookfire, pausing to taste the lentil-and-griffin soup he was cooking. He sprinkled in some oregano. "Is that such an idiotic thing to do?"
"No!" Color blazed across Levin's cheeks for a moment. "No - but - eh - if he wants to impress her, he shouldn't - I mean, he should trust her. Trish wouldn't play fast and loose like that, she's...she's...she's..."
"Not like that," Vitali supplied.
"Sure." Levin grimaced. "Anyone can see she's a good shot. I bet she's been doing it since she was a kid." He turned to watch as Tricia took another shot, now aiming for a cherry tomato on Odie's head. "She sure knows her stuff. Hey - Vitali."
Vitali added a sliced potato. "Yes?"
"I've - I've noticed something about Trish. I bet you have too. I've...seen it with other archer women. She..."
"What?" Vitali asked, a touch of impatience in his voice. He'd added too much oregano.
"She's got kinda a funny...you know..."
"It's her regional accent. Most people have them. You do."
"No, I don't mean that! Damn, Vitali, how could I complain about her voice? It's beautif... But, no, I meant her, uh...uh..."
Vitali looked up. The Sepp beckoned him closer. Leaning around the cook fire, Vitali lent him his ear.
"Ah," Vitali said when Levin had whispered a single embarrassed word. "Yes, that's quite commonplace with female archers. Depending on how large their breasts are, they may amputate one to facilitate the drawing of the bow."
"Amputate?" Levin squealed, his eyes wide and a familiar pale green color around his mouth and nostrils. "Sh-sh-she cut off her - She cut it off? She cut it off?"
"Or she could've cauterized it when she was younger. That's done as well."
"Cauterized?"
"As I said-" Vitali added celery to the soup "-it's a perfectly standard procedure. I'm surprised you didn't know."
"She maimed her beautiful - uh - self? Just so she could - but it's - self-mutilation - what do you mean it's standard - she could've bled to death - and now she's - eh - off-balance and-"
"Calm down. You know that warriors have to make personal sacrifices for their careers. Think of Revya, being fused with Gig. Or look at the scars you bear on your own body. The warrior's life was never meant to be aesthetic."
"But she's so - so - graceful and - soft - and - and she cut herself up and-"
"Levin, if it disturbs you so much, you should just talk to her about it. She'll probably tell you that it was painful at the time, but the benefits more than outweigh the-"
"Benefits - talk to her? How could I talk to her about such a - such a - delicate subject?"
"Actually, she just binds the left side every morning," Revya told him. "Danette and I asked her ages ago." Levin jumped, as if he'd just received three bee stings to the rear.
"Ah," Vitali said, "back from scouting? And just in time for dinner. Good. All right there, Levin? Don't worry, I'll make you a stiff drink."