I would just like to say thank you to Kiauna Gray for reviewing and kimbaleena2002 for following this story! Enjoy!
Mom and I set out to hunt early in the morning, like always. We make sure we arrive at the gate where we enter the Hunting Grounds before the sun wakes. We arrive there before the day shift of guards begin their day. We are probably the last citizens the graveyard guards see before they sleep. Everyone else has a couple more hours left of sleeping sand grinded into the corners of their eyes. They will be rubbing the remains of the grains when Mom and I fill our first bag.
"Hey, bones," I say to Jack, a regular graveyard guard we pass when we enter the gates. It's a running joke we have ever since I started hunting when I was confused why his shift was called the graveyard.
"Good morning, Diana," another running joke. Something about me being a twin and knowing archery and mythology? Jack apparently loves reading about Greek mythology. I would love to hear more stories, but we never have time to just stop and share stories. A smirk graces my mother's lips. She was there both times when our nicknames were born. She and I both know Jack was far too old for me, almost ten years my senior, and the relationship is nothing but sibling status; I basically have two brothers.
My mother and I grab our bags and head out into the woods after Jack and I exchange pleasantries about the weather and how his shift is almost over while mine is just beginning. We close the conversation by telling one another to have a good day.
Working together with my mom feels second nature as it has from the beginning when she was first teaching my brother and I. Rye struggled with knots and stringing his bow while he excelled in knowing how to pleasure taste buds with anything he baked/cooked. I'm still jealous to this day that I can't get what he can do exactly right.
I aim at nothing, hoping I can add to my pile which is three squirrels and two rabbits. Mom knows to keep to herself, not making any noise, when I am still like this. My body changes positions to aim at anything that moves, and I shoot when my brain locks onto the moving creature. I don't really think about doing it; sometimes it scares me because my shooting is almost always accurate. If I miss, I am not fast enough. It is my own error. She likes to watch; she says it gives her something to distract herself by coaching me. I like to distract her as much as I can.
My body fluidly turns to the left when I hear a branch snap. It is a buck. This time, I do hesitate in shooting. I can't shoot it when it looks at me with its innocent and naïve eyes; it hasn't seen the beauty of the woods yet. I imbed my arrow into the trunk of three beside it, scaring it away to live another day.
"I would have done the same thing," my mom says.
"It hasn't lived yet…" I say as I walk toward that area to retrieve my weapon. I hear my mom reply with a quiet "I know".
We quickly gather our things; both of us think we've hunted enough for today. There is still about an hour or so before Dad and Rye open the bakery. We have a little time to spend in our favorite place: the meadow.
Sometimes it's truly scary how close our minds think alike because she asks if I would like to visit our place of reprieve. Of course I answer with an enthusiastic yes. I am tired so it is as enthusiastic as I could muster.
We make our way with ease; our muscles are used to going our usual path to the meadow. The trek is silent beside the sound of our swift feet padding through the woods. Our feet do not step on any branches heavily. We are silent ghosts gliding through the trees.
It takes around ten minutes to reach the meadow. Setting our game onto the ground and swinging our bow and arrows over our shoulders to join the bags, we are able to finally relax after a successful couple of hours of hunting. We will only have twenty minutes here before heading back. I wish we could stay here forever like it seemed during my quick childhood. My family and I used to spend hours just enjoying the peace and the breeze warming our bones. I know dead bodies were buried underneath the blooming flowers, and I thank them for providing such a beautiful place. Such a morbid though to think I used to dance on this graveyard as a child, and I still danced when my parents informed me of what happened with the bodies here. It was a way for me, I figured, to thank them or celebrate their lives since they did not receive a proper funeral service. I think I like the meadow mostly because of the lullaby Mom sang when Rye and I were children still sharing a room because we were scared of the dark. She still sings when we both can't sleep although Rye doesn't like admit he is still sung to sometimes.
The sun isn't close enough to bring light to whole area to set free the colors of the flowers and grass. High noon is the best time to rest here, but I am grateful to be able to come here anyway. Not a lot of people want to come here, because they do see this place as a graveyard so they ultimately think it is haunted. Maybe it is, but the restless souls have never bothered us. I wonder if Mom thinks that way as well. Does she venture out here with me just because I like it?
"What do you want to do today?" Mom asks distracting me from my thoughts. Before I reply with what we should do after this she says, "After the Hob and visiting your father and brother, of course."
Being done with school already, leaves me with an abundance of time that I honestly have no idea how to spend it.
"I'm not sure. Maybe just help out at the bakery. Rye was talking about teaching me how to make those mini-cakes the other day."
"That sounds like a good plan. Your father would love your company. He hasn't seen you much lately."
Guilt pulled my throat into my stomach. I haven't spent much time with either of my parents. Time has been dedicated and devoted to finishing school and hunting when I can. Maybe the stress caused me to fall yesterday? Most likely not. My own recklessness was probably the reason.
"I know," I reply, looking down at the blade of grass that I unconsciously started to twiddle with, "I'm sorry I haven't spent time with you and Dad."
She tiredly smiles halfway, "You and Rye were both finishing school. We understand; we just missed you."
My mother is overly protective of my brother and me. She didn't even want us walking to school alone when we first started. Or, how she doesn't want us dating until we're thirty. Although I'm sure that was a joke.
Maybe.
I tell her that I missed them too which was absolutely, 100 percent true. I missed both of them when I returned home when we were all busy. The last couple of months of Rye's and my education career, Mom was visiting different districts to see friends which I think Dad coerced her to do, because when she's cooped up for a while, she becomes depressed and the nightmares become so unbearable to relive that she barely sleeps. Also, Dad was burying himself into making sure Rye knew how to run the store by himself. I would usually make dinner and eat by myself when I got home and then go to bed so I could wake up early without being a complete ground. And as soon I climbed into bed, Dad and Rye would come home after closing up the store. I felt guilty as I lied in bed trying to fall asleep, because I could've eaten with them, but hunting before school is hard enough hardly sleeping six hours. Hunting also wakes me up in the morning; some people have their bitter tasting coffee, and I have my hunting. I'm sure if I didn't hunt, I would kill someone at the end of the day. I don't think that would be approved of. My morning fix was making sure to bring the Hob at least half a bag of meat for the day.
Mom asks if I'm ready to head back, and I reluctantly tell her I am. She is also not wanting to leave, but we can't stay and hide forever like we'd want.