Part Two

Sunflower

It wasn’t as bad as he feared. A young girl about their age was petting Angelina, a soft expression on her face as she did so, her warm chocolate brown eyes filled with wonderment as she looked upon Angelina. Her dark brown hair was cut short, laying perfectly straight on her shoulders in a way that made Hunter wonder how she kept it that way.

“She’s pretty,” she said, looking up at Thomas. Hunter walked up to them, staying quiet. “What’s her name?”

“Angelina,” Thomas replied, twisting the reins in his hands again. “And yeah, I guess she’s pretty.”

Hunter snorted, causing the girl’s brown eyes to flick over at him. She started, appearing to have just noticed him for the first time. “His first comment about the horse was about her beauty,” Hunter explained. Then, he added, “Hunter Wright.”

“Braya Moore,” the girl said with a slight incline of her head. The motion made some of her hair fall into her face and she brought up a hand to tuck it behind her ear. She looked back at Thomas, waiting expectantly for his introduction.

A little belatedly, Thomas realized her silent question. “Oh! I’m Thomas…” he hesitated for a second. Hunter understood his confusion. For as long as he could remember, he had been Thomas Hayes. Now, he had just found out that his father’s surname was Wells. Was he a Wells now or still a Hayes?

“Pleasure to meet you, Thomas,” Braya said graciously, seeming to think his hesitation was due to an awkwardness about not having a surname. “Where are you two headed? With your horses, I would assume you’re participating in a trip.”

Thomas looked over at Hunter, seemingly begging the older boy to answer her question.

“You would assume correctly, Miss. Moore,” Hunter said. “We’re off to the south, trying to get away from this cold weather.”

“Just Braya,” she corrected. “As for this weather, please. This is nothing compared to the northern regions.”

Thomas’ eyes widened, appearing to be in awe over what the girl had said. “You’re from the north? Like Eskil?”

Braya shook her head, opening her mouth to speak.

But Hunter spoke before she could. “With that accent? No, she’s still from Malin. My guess? Midea Fief.”

Braya shook her head again. “Too north,” she said as a way of explanation. “I wouldn’t have been able to leave if I lived that far north. The passes are already blocked by snow. Not to mention the avalanches that plague the area. I would’ve died from the elements if I tried to travel.”

“Touche,” Hunter said. “Then that leaves Evermeadow Fief.”

“Perfect.” She smiled widely at Hunter. “Someone knows their geography of Malin pretty well. You get around?”

Hunter shrugged. “Enough, I suppose. How ab--”

“Um, Hunter?” Thomas interrupted, his voice filled with nervousness. Hunter faced him to find Thomas staring towards their right. “I think we may have a problem.”

Hunter followed his eyesight, looking at a small group of soldiers walking down the road. As he watched, the person leading them headed into a building just a few doors away from where they stood. Based on the sign hanging outside of it, it was the town’s butcher. The soldiers appeared to be looking for someone and Hunter had a good guess as to who that someone was.

Suddenly, the soldier in the back of the group paused before walking in, looking down the street and meeting Hunter’s gaze. He nudged the soldier beside him--who had a crossbow slung over his back--and, when he looked back in confusion, he gestured over at Hunter, Thomas, and Braya. Leaving the rest of their unit to check the butcher’s, they began walking towards them.

Hunter mounted Magnus, looking back at Braya. “You mi--”

“Already ahead of you,” Braya said, flicking the hood of her cloak up to cover her face. She quickly ran off, disappearing quickly.

“We have to move,” Hunter said to Thomas.

“I still don’t know how to ride,” he replied, sounding fearful as he twisted the reins of his horse again.

“Well learn fast!” Hunter grabbed the reins from Thomas’ hands, holding onto his own steed with one hand. “Hold onto the pommel,” he instructed.

“The what?”

“The horn looking thing on the front of your saddle!” Not waiting for Thomas to find it, Hunter urged Magnus into a trot, pulling Angelina behind him. After a few beats, she started to follow them, staying to Magnus’ right.

“Stop!” a voice commanded. Spinning around in his saddle, he saw one of the soldiers holding his hand up. The other soldier now had his crossbow fully out and in his hands, an arrow already nocked and pointed at them. “In the name of Emperor Elliott, I command you to stop and face your crimes. If not, we will be forced to use deadly force.”

“Deadly force?” Thomas asked, turning around in his saddle.

“Thomas!” Hunter shouted, knowing that the boy’s balance was in a precarious situation due to the fact that he had never ridden before. He didn’t need to add moving around as well. “Sit normally.”

“That soldier has a crossbow!” Thomas exclaimed, looking at Hunter with fear in his eyes. This time, though, it wasn’t from the horse. “He has a crossbow!”

“Yeah, I can see that as well.” He looped Angelina’s reins around his own pommel then let Magnus’ reins drop. He longed to move faster than the trot they were at, but between having to take care of the soldiers behind them and an inexperienced rider with him, Hunter had no choice. He took a moment to feel the rhythm of his horse, getting used to riding with no hands. After finding his balance on Magnus, he unslung his bow and used his left hand to grab an arrow from the quiver on his back, nocking it in a fluid movement.

“I’m going to fall!” Thomas shouted. Hunter spared a glance at Thomas, whose balance--just as Hunter had feared--was about to leave him. He was holding onto the pommel with a death grip, clearly intent on not falling.

“Give me a few seconds,” Hunter reassured. Just then, he heard a whiz by his ear. Whirling around, he saw the crossbow in the soldier’s hand, devoid of an arrow. Knowing that the quickest reload time for a crossbow was eight seconds, Hunter began a countdown in his head. With the countdown came Michael’s words, reminding him of what to do.

Eight.

“Before you shoot, think about the trajectory of the arrow. Clear your mind of everything, focusing solely on the shot.”

Seven.

“Did he just shoot at us?” Thomas asked. “Is he go--” Hunter let Thomas’ words go, instead imagining his arrow’s flight path.

Six.

“When you’re shooting on a horse, you have to feel the rhythm. Use the motion to aid your shot, don’t fight against it.”

Five.

Magnus had a specific rhythm in his movements, a rhythm that Hunter knew well after hours of riding on him, even if he had only been training for a year now. Swaying with it, Hunter lost himself in it, adding his horse’s motion to the ideal trajectory of his arrow.

Four.

“Now, consider all of the other factors that could impact your shot. What’s the wind like? How far away is your target? Is there anything hindering your vision?”

Three.

Hunter smiled humorlessly to himself. Did shooting on a moving horse and aiming at a person standing behind him count as a hindrance to his vision? Where others would’ve given up then, realizing that the shot was impossible, Hunter pushed through it. He would either miss the shot or make the shot--there was no other outcome. And he wouldn’t know until he released his arrow.

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Two.

“Final step before release. Pull your arm back, all the way. Imagine the shot in your head for the final time, then imagine it again. It’s better to imagine the shot millions of times than not at all.”

One.

Hunter brought his hands up, pulling back on the string. Like Michael said, he pulled it back to the farthest it could go, his left thumb grazing his cheek. Then, he let out a breath, calming his thoughts and visualizing the shot again. He erased the image then reimagined it.

Zero.

“Then, release.”

With that final command, Hunter yelled, “Spin!” Immediately, Magnus did so, looping around to face the soldiers and heading straight to them. Slightly later and letting out a whinny as she did so, Angelina turned around as well, still staying on Magnus’ right side. Hunter locked his eyes on his target--the soldier with the crossbow, an arrow loaded on the string, waiting to be aimed at someone--and imagined the shot one last time. Then, he le--

“Hunter!”

His attention was diverted when Thomas yelled. Hunter looked to the side, just in time to watch Thomas start to slide off of Angelina’s saddle. The 180-degree turn Hunter told the horses to do appeared to have been too much for Thomas to keep his balance. He still held onto his horse, though, seemingly desperate to stay on her. Hunter returned his attention back to his shot, trying to aim at the soldier. But it was a lost cause when Angelina started to veer to the side, Thomas’ weight pulling her to the left and towards Magnus.

Aware of the collision course that the mare was on, Magnus veered to the left, away from the golden horse. With a curse, Hunter put the arrow back in his quiver, knowing that trying to shoot at the soldiers was now impossible. Keeping his bow in his right hand, he used his left to unwrap Angelina’s reins around his pommel, knowing that it would only be harmful for him now that the mare was frightened.

“Hunter!” Thomas shouted again.

Hunter faced Thomas, watching as he slipped farther off of his saddle. Switching his bow over to his left hand, Hunter reached over, trying to pull Thomas up. Seeing what he was trying to do, Magnus tried to keep level with Angelina.

But a crossbow bolt whizzed through the air, flying between the two horses. It flew close enough that Hunter felt it graze his cheek and he winced as it drew blood. He leaned back to a normal seating position, hoping that Thomas could do the same soon.

But the close brush with the bolt had been too much for Angelina. She increased her speed, veering away from Hunter and Magnus, heading to the right instead. The sudden change in speed and direction was also too much for Thomas, who finally lost his balance completely. With a shout, he tumbled to the ground and Hunter watched as he rolled on the cobblestone road.

Hunter cursed, slowing Magnus down to a stop. Before Magnus had completely stopped, Hunter was dismounting, running to where Thomas had fallen. Thomas was getting up slowly, appearing to not have injured himself, which was lucky considering the severity of his fall.

“Are you okay?” Hunter asked, sticking out a hand to help Thomas up.

Thomas groaned in response, but grabbed Hunter’s offered hand to stand up. “I hate horses.”

Hunter tilted his head. “But I thought they were pretty?” he asked innocently.

“Till they get scared off by a little arrow.”

Hunter snorted, but didn’t comment on the fact that it had freaked out Thomas just as much.

“By order of the Empire,” a pompous voice said. Hunter looked up to see that the two Aspayan soldiers were walking up to them. The soldier with the crossbow had it loaded again, holding it in a manner that said that he was prepared to use it. “You two are under arrest on charges of desertion.” Noticing Hunter’s bow still in his left hand, he barked, “Drop your weapons!” The other soldier raised his crossbow, seeing Hunter’s bow as a threat to him and his companion.

Hunter heard Thomas’ hard swallow and saw the paling of his face. Seemingly moving as fast as he could, he unsheathed his knife, placing it quickly down on the ground. He seemed to be giving up, making Hunter smirk. It might be over for Thomas, but it was far from over according to him. He removed his quiver and bent down to place it and his bow down on the ground in front of him. While standing back up again, he brought his left hand up, pulling his knife out. He made sure to keep his hand within his cloak, hiding his knife from view.

Seeing that the threat was dealt with, the crossbow was lowered and the soldiers quickened their pace, walking up to them.

“Get ready to run,” Hunter hissed at Thomas.

“Wait, what?”

“On three,” Hunter whispered. “One.” The soldiers were fifteen feet away from them, quickly closing the distance.

“Hunter, he still has--”

“Two.” Now at ten feet away, the soldier with the crossbow paused, letting his companion continue forward while he stayed behind.

“--a crossbow. It wou--”

“Three!” he shouted. The soldier was just a few feet away, and Hunter lunged forward, stabbing him. He was aiming for the stomach, but he misjudged the distance and the knife ended up in the soldier’s upper leg.

With a cry, the soldier fell, clutching at his leg. Hunter removed the knife, but before he could deal with the crossbow soldier, a crossbow bolt was flying through the air. Hunter leaned back, expecting the bolt to be coming for him. However, it turned out that he had been wrong about that; seeing that Hunter was in motion and therefore harder to aim at, the soldier had aimed at Thomas. And, now at point blank range, the soldier finally managed to hit his target.

Thomas cried out, a sound that ripped Hunter’s attention away from the soldier and to the boy. The bolt had hit Thomas’ shoulder, sticking out from Thomas’ arm. It didn’t appear to be too life-threatening, but Thomas still fell to the ground, his right hand holding his injured left shoulder.

Distracted by Thomas, Hunter failed to notice the other soldier was dropping his crossbow and pulling out his own knife. He only noticed it when the soldier launched at him, knocking Hunter down to the ground. Hunter’s knife went flying, out of his grasp and landing on the ground. The wind was knocked out of his lungs and he struggled to catch his breath. That wasn’t helped when the soldier leaned on top of him, using his weight to press down on his back.

Gasping and feeling his lungs crying out from their lack of oxygen, Hunter tried to push the soldier off of him, managing to roll over onto his back. Before he could fully throw the soldier off of him, the soldier brought a hand against Hunter’s throat, clearly desperate to keep Hunter in his hold, and pressed something cold across his throat. Looking down, he found the soldier’s knife was being held at his throat.

“Give me one good reason to use this,” the soldier growled, leaning down to say it in his ear.

“I can give you several,” Hunter choked out as his mind whirled with ways to get out of this situation alive. But none came to him, until his eyes fell on the knife on the ground next to him. It was his knife, the one that had flown from his hand when he had fallen. If he could get to it, he could use it to escape the soldier holding him. But how to get to it?

“Hunter!” a voice shouted. Hunter’s eyes flicked in the direction of the voice. Thomas was standing up, a hand holding his injured shoulder. The crossbow bolt was gone, and Hunter hoped that he had only snapped off the shaft of it. If he had pulled out the bolt without any way to stop the bleeding, things could turn bad--and fast. “Let him go!” He had his knife back in his hand, holding it out towards the soldier. It would have been threatening--if he had been holding it correctly and didn’t look like he was about to drop it at any given moment.

The soldier stumbled up, dragging Hunter up with him. Hunter fought briefly with the motion, trying to get free and get to his knife while the soldier struggled with standing up. But the soldier applied more pressure to his throat, making it hard for Hunter to breath. On top of that, he felt the knife slice his throat, blood quickly welling up at his wound.

“Stop!” Thomas screamed. “You’re hurting him!” He stepped forward, moments away from running up to the soldier and Hunter.

“Not another step!” the soldier shouted. “Get any closer and your friend dies.”

Thomas froze, his eyes looking fearfully at Hunter.

“Get on the ground, hands behind your head.” Still, Thomas hesitated, looking back and forth from the soldier and the knife at Hunter’s throat. “Now!” the soldier barked, applying more pressure on the knife. Hunter couldn’t stop his gasp as the knife sliced him, the cut going deeper this time.

That gasp was all Thomas needed to listen to the soldier’s command. He quickly got to the ground, appearing to fall in his haste, and his hands flew to the back of his head, causing his knife to fall on the ground with a clang. The soldier loosened his hold on Hunter’s throat, the knife falling away.

That motion was the exact thing Hunter had been waiting for.

He flew into action, bringing his right elbow back into the soldier’s stomach, causing the soldier to double over. At the same time, Hunter grabbed the hand holding the knife with his left hand, twisting it until the soldier dropped it. It fell on the ground and Hunter ignored it in favor of grabbing his own knife just a mere foot away from him.

But while he was bent grabbing it, the soldier kicked him, sending him sprawling to the ground. For the second time, he lost his grip on his knife. The soldier grabbed it instead. Rolling onto his back, Hunter prepared to fight back against the soldier. Before he could get up, though, the soldier brought a hand out, holding Hunter down. Then, with his right hand, he brought the knife up, preparing it to bring it back down. Hunter’s eyes widened as he realized that it was coming towards him, seconds away from stabbing into his chest, spelling out Hunter’s death.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion, the way the sunlight gleamed on the blade, the way it came up, the sick, twisted smile of the soldier. Faintly, Hunter could hear Thomas’ screams, but they slowly faded away to nothing as Hunter looked death straight in the eye. And, at that moment, a great calm washed over Hunter and memories played out in his head, making it impossible for him to be aware of anything else around him.

“Jaime!” Mamá shouted ecstatically, flying down the front steps, feet barely hitting them. Reaching Hunter’s father, he picked her up and spun her around. Her long auburn hair spun with her, flying around like it was apart from gravity. She laughed, mirth obvious in her green eyes. Hunter also saw a look that he placed as love, as she gazed into the eyes of her husband, a look that was on his father’s face as well.

Feeling left out, Hunter ran up to them, barreling into Papá’s legs. He put Mamá down, then stooped to pick up Hunter. Holding him with one hand, he hooked an arm around his wife, drawing her into a three-person hug.

At that moment in time, none of them knew that, just one week later, their family would be ripped apart, turned to dust and ash. Hunter’s parents went into a place where Hunter couldn’t follow, but it appeared that Hunter was about to pass on to join them. Their family was about to be reunited, and it was that fact that Hunter thought of when he closed his eyes, preparing for the final blow. His only regret was that he had run off to do the exact thing that Michael didn’t want him to do and the hope he had given to Thomas that would now be unfulfilled.

I’m sorry, Hunter apologized in his head. I’m sorry, Michael and Thomas, for everything.