Chapter 7: Good Shot

We spent nearly all of our time on the training grounds in the days that followed. Though incredibly stern, Oreius proved to be an exceptional teacher, and the boys were quick learners.

Rhydian became a force to be reckoned with as a swordsman; whether he was on foot or on horseback, by the fourth or fifth month, he beat nearly everyone that challenged him. His considerable height and bulk made him nearly impossible to stand against. Oreius approved of him first, and Rhydian gained his trust far quicker than we expected.

Geraint, being shorter and leaner and more lithe, took to archery faster than he did to the sword. His sharp eyes could spot even the most elusive of targets, and his aim was almost always true. He was an impeccable shot on the ground, but his bow became even deadlier on horseback. For months he practiced, and he didn't stop until his shaft hit its mark every single time.

Me?

I did not.

By the end of the first week, I was honestly beginning to question the sanity of my decision. My arms were so sore I could barely move them; my legs, so wobbly and stiff from the running and the crawling and the countless hours on horseback that it hurt to walk. Even the smallest sword, I could barely handle; the smallest bow, I couldn't pull back. I fought and fought and fought to get better, throwing everything I had into everything I was told to do, but it bore no fruit. I was the thorn in Oreius's side, and no matter what my brothers tried to tell me, we all knew it.

Time passed. The snow all but disappeared from the mountainside and from the camp; dryads whirled and span in the light spring breeze. Some of the trees were beginning to turn green, and a few of them bloomed into colors I never stopped to consider they could: soft pinks, violets, creams, and whites. I passed under a large oak tree as I made my way towards the training grounds, trailing behind my brothers as they laughed and talked.

I watched them as their silhouettes passed under the trees. A massive Narnian broadsword was strapped to Rhydian's back, and a beautiful, carved quiver and wooden longbow crossed Geraint's. As I trailed behind them, I realized how immensely small they made me feel. In the time we had been there, they had both grown several inches and gained a considerable amount of muscle. Their features had become sharper and more intense, and Rhydian had a bit of stubble clinging to the sides of his strong jaw. Every day, they looked less like boys and more like men.

And I still felt like a little girl.

Yes, I had grown several inches since we arrived, and I had noticed a new, womanlier curve to my body, but my appearance had nothing to do with it. The harder I tried to wield a weapon, or the harder I tried to do anything, for that matter, the harder I seemed to fail, and the smaller, weaker, more helpless I felt.

Where it had only taken the boys a week or so to properly handle a sword, or to load, draw back, and fire a bow, it had taken me nearly two years. And I was growing impatient.

More than anything, I wanted to stand at my brothers' sides and fight for Narnia and for Father, but right now, it felt as if I would never be able to. I had grown stronger during the time we had been there, and by this point I could somewhat decently hold my own in a swordfight, but I hadn't won a single fight.

That discouraged me.

I often thought back to that night on the frozen riverbank so long ago, when a battle seemed farther away than the moon to the bottom of the ocean, to what Geraint had told me when he revealed Rhydian's master plan.

There's more ways to fight than just fighting, you know.

I passed under another large oak tree at the top of the hill overlooking the archery range, not realizing how far I had fallen behind my brothers. Soon I stopped walking altogether. I frowned.

Did I really want to keep doing this? Did I really want to humiliate myself again? Should I keep at it or give up altogether? Maybe I was a lost cause, as I knew Oreius thought I was. Maybe–

"Renn?" Rhydian called. "Are you alright?"

He trudged back through the grass and stopped a few feet in front of me. He smiled. "Come on, little sister," he said, putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "We can't keep Oreius waiting forever."

I sighed, walking between my brothers down the hill towards the training grounds. Oreius stood at the bottom as he always did, a ghost of a proud smile on his lips as the boys split up and went to their usual positions. Rhydian's sword rang as he drew it from its sheath, and he smiled as his usual training partner, a black-haired Faun named Flynn, entered the ring and called a cheerful greeting. Geraint called to Darian, a chestnut Horse standing nearby, climbed into the saddle, and steered towards the main set of targets, talking with his friend as they broke into a brisk trot.

Soon the Centaur's stern gaze fell on me, and I shifted uneasily under its weight. He nodded a greeting.

"Good morning," I managed.

For two years I had known him, and yet he still utterly terrified me.

"Come," he said, nodding towards another set of targets by the trees and willing me to follow. I reached for my recurve and pulled an arrow from the quiver at my side as we neared them.

I planted my feet about thirty paces from the nearest target and waited for instruction.

"Notch the shaft and pull it back to your ear," Oreius said, his voice stern yet gentle.

I did as he told me, though it was a challenge to keep the arrow in place.

The Centaur nodded his approval. "Your form looks much better," he continued. "Find your mark, and try loosing the shaft."

This was the part where I always seemed to fail.

My eyes locking onto the target, I adjusted my aim, and cringing, let the arrow fly. I expected it to sail into the woods, like it always had done before.

It sank into the far right side of the corner with a thwack. A wide grin spread across my face.

"Finally!" I whispered, standing in awe of what I had just done.

To this day, I'm not sure who was more shocked: Me or my instructor.

A small, proud smile etched across Oreius's face. "Try it again," he said, his tone notably more excited than it had been before.

I heard Darian's hoof beats slow and stop nearby, and I looked over my shoulder to the to the top of the hill behind us. Geraint was grinning ear to ear.

"Rhydian!" he called over his shoulder, hardly able to contain his excitement. "She hit it!"

I heard Rhydian's exclamation from all the way across the field. Though I couldn't see him, I knew he was beaming.

Slowly, I raised the bow, drew the shaft back to my cheek, found my mark, and let another arrow fly.

It also hit the target, but closer to the bullseye this time.

I heard my brothers cheer behind me, and I smiled so wide it almost hurt. I could have fallen over I was so ecstatic. Even Oreius was grinning.

"Go for another one!" Geraint called. "You can do it!"

In an excited rush, I knotted another shaft to the string, raised the weapon, and fired. As soon as I let the shaft loose, I knew I had missed, and a disappointed grin crossed my face. The shaft sailed into the brush behind the targets.

Something cried out in pain as soon as it disappeared.

My heart froze over.

Oreius and I exchanged worried glances before running towards the edge of the woods. Darian charged down the hill with both my brothers on his back.

"Stay back!" Oreius barked, drawing one of his swords. "Rhydian, Geraint. With me."

Rhydian drew his sword and followed immediately. I felt a hand on my shoulder as Geraint moved past, fitting an arrow to his bow as he slipped into the brush behind them.

My head spun; cold fear gnawed on my conscience.

What have I done?

"Renn!" Oreius called suddenly.

My heart pounding, I rushed towards my brothers, the Horse, and the general. My hand clamped over my mouth when I saw what I hit.

A large, grey Wolf lie on the ground with my shaft sticking out of his neck. A small red Squirrel, one of Mr. Fox's runners, was clamped in his jaws.

"By the Lion," I whispered, gingerly kneeling by the Wolf's head. As I had seen Father do a few times, I gently laid my hand across the Squirrel's face, sighing with relief when I felt a little warm breath come from his nostrils.

"Darian," Oreuis ordered. "Take Renn back to camp, and the two of you see what you can do for him. Rhydian, Geraint, follow me. There may be more out there, and if there are, they must be hunted down."

The Centaur turned and looked at me. "Good shot," he said, firm praise resting in his voice.

Darian pawed the soft ground impatiently. "Come on up here, Renn, and do it quickly! We don't know how much time this poor fellow's got!"

I nodded, swinging up into the saddle. My feet weren't even completely in the stirrups before Darian took off towards the main camp. We stopped in front of a large red tent. I quickly dismounted, caring the wounded Squirrel in my hands.

"He needs help!" I called as I pushed the tent flaps back.

But no one was there.

"No," I whispered. "No, no, no..."

Gently, I set the Squirrel onto a small table and scrambled for what little healing skill I knew. I had watched Father tend to our bumps and bruises and scratches, and even watched him heal one of Mother's white reindeer a few times.

"How did he do that?" I nervously said to myself as I rushed around the tent. Almost running, I grabbed a basin of water and a large white cloth, dunked the rag into the water, and put pressure onto the wound so the bleeding would stop. One of Father's healing chants suddenly rushed to my mind, and hurriedly I began to whisper it. My eyes clamped shut in concentration as I stumbled over the words.

The tent flaps behind me opened, but I hardly noticed. My hands started to glow a soft golden shade, just as I had seen Father's do, as I continued to whisper.

Suddenly, I felt something squirm underneath my hands, and my eyes shot open.

"Goodness me," the Squirrel exclaimed. "That was rather unpleasant!" He looked up at me and added quickly, "Oh, not you, my dear. That Wolf! He was angrier than a hornet, and every bit as rude!"

I was stunned. "I... I did it..."

"I should say you did, my dear," the Squirrel hurried on. "I feel much better now! Much obliged, Miss...?"

I grinned. "Renn."

"Oh! Of course!" The Squirrel stood and shook himself, smoothing down some of his fur with his little paws. "That should take care of some of the matting," he chirped, scampering across the table and hopping to the ground. "Pleased to meet you. My name is Sebastian." His head shot up. "Oh, hello there, General!"

I turned around, and Oreius stood behind me, looking perplexed and stunned and relieved all at once.

Slowly, he bowed his head at me, his face wearing the same look it had when Rhydian won his first fight. When Geraint hit the bullseye on all four targets for the first time.

I had just earned his respect. It had taken two long years, but I now, I finally had it.

"Did you find anything?" I asked.

The Centaur simply shook his head. "That was a scout, which means the rest of the pack is not far behind. We sent a search party into the woods to look for them. Your brothers are with them."

I nodded.

Oreius's gaze moved to Sebastian. "Come, my friend," he said, holding the tent flap open for the Squirrel to trot through. "It seems we have much to talk about."