Sweeter Than Apples

The monster was bored with targets. The wind was up. The sun rode high among the stampeding clouds.

A little bird flew overhead, twisting and skidding in the unsteady breeze, a warm arrow, flitting and lighting. Flitting and lighting.

"Go kill that bird." whispered her heart, from somewhere far away.

"Why?" she said, out loud because no one was near, but her heart didn’t reply, so she packed up her arrows and climbed the hill after it.

The bird lifted and landed before her. Lifted and landed, tucked into the bracken or the long grass, then back up into the swirling air, taken by the currents like a leaf.

She tracked it with a bodkin. Such a big arrow for such a little creature. Surely it would explode in the most satisfying shower of feathers.

She loosed the bowstring, but the bird, unpredictable in the tangled gusts, shimmied into another current and slid away, up over the hill. A single feather tumbled from the wingtip.

"Fuck," she growled, and drew another arrow.

"Go up into the woods," whispered her heart.

"I want to kill the bird," she said, but her heart was silent.

"Stupid heart," she muttered, "What’s in the woods?" But the day was fine and the trees were rustling and tossing their heads about. She had her bow, and plenty of arrows to spare. Maybe there would be something interesting to shoot at.

The trees were wide and open. The leaves were small and pale green against the ragged sky. She wandered between mounds of green gold bracken, bow half-drawn, looking for something to murder.

Her new clothes were silent, she moved without a hint of a taffeta rustle. Rabbits scampered before her, grey bodies curved to the ground, kicking up leaves with their hindfeet.

She shot at one but missed the release. The red-fletched arrow stuck deep into the earth. She knelt to pull it out, but the head was lodged deep in the soil and the shaft cracked.

"Stupid arrow," she muttered, but there was nothing to do but leave it. She kicked the end of it off so it wouldn’t trip her. She had plenty more in her quiver.

There was an open space here where the trees curved up and round forming a dappled green cave, soft with grass and flowers. The trees rushed and swished. There was a round place where two roots curved together like an armchair. Almost like a throne. She snuggled into the gap, legs tucked up underneath her, stroking her bow.

It was made of three layers of wood, heart and sap, bonded to give it strength and flexibility. It had been polished so finely that she could almost see through the surface into the rich grain beneath, summer upon summer. The curve of it was organic. The tension across its span was like a muscle, a calf or a thigh, lithe and athletic. She ran her fingertips right along the length of it. She unstrung it and felt the balance of the curve.

It was her mother’s bow, and everything was perfect.

"Hey, fancy girl."

Taliette jumped, she had not expected to meet anyone here, but she controlled herself quickly. Own the space, Mother had said once. Wherever you are, that place is yours. She settled back against the tree trunk, hands spread behind her head and watched the newcomer through narrowed eyes.

A young woman swaggered into the clearing. She was dressed in leather, like Taliette and also carried a bow, though hers was a plain longbow. Two knives were strapped to her belt. The girl regarded Taliette coldly. Taliette stared back.

"Well, look at this," she said, icily, "it’s Gintas' new baby monster."

Taliette folded her arms. She had her bow, she had her arrows, and she had Gintas protection. There was nothing this girl could do to her, but something in the girl's voice was familiar. Some memory from another life.

"Jessamy?"

The girl’s foot flicked out and cracked into her ear. Talliete was on her face. Dead leaves crunched in her mouth. Her bow was away across the clearing, out of reach.

"That’s for the apple, fancy girl."

Jessamy strolled around her, looking for an angle. Her foot smashed into Talette's stomach, and she couldn’t breathe. She sucked at the air, but her lungs wouldn't work. The trees wheeled above her.

"Oh, what’s the matter. Can’t you talk? Poor little fancy girl has nothing to say? Is this your bow? It’s a nice one."

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Taliette's breath came back to her in a ragged gasp. She struggled to her hands and knees. Her throat was raw. There were sticks stuck to her face and embedded in her knees. Her ear was ringing. She tried to stand but her knees were soft and she stumbled.

Jessamy picked up her bow and examined it.

"That's mine," Taliette coughed. She hated the thick, rubbery shape of her voice. Her lips were soft and she could not make the sounds come out right.

"Oh really? Mind if I borrow it for a while?"

"Gintas will kill you," she coughed out.

"Oh? Well, you'd better have it back then."

The girl slid a knife from her belt, and pressed the tip of it into the smooth handle of the bow. She dragged it over the glossy surface, carving a long winding scratch into the laminate. She took her time, taking the line for a walk. A little pressure, a little twist. Taliette felt the sharpness of it, as though it were her own skin.

"Just a little something so you’ll remember me. Here, take your bow so you can do your little tricks for Gintas." Jessamy threw the recurve. It smacked Taliette across her cheek. "Didn’t you ever wonder how he knew so much about you?" she asked. "He told you he held your dreams in his hand, didn’t he. He says that to everyone."

Taliette struggled to her feet, her breath was coming back, ragged and uneven.

"I'm going to kill you for this."

"Oh, look at you! Look how much you hate me! He held my heart in his hand once too, and so I had to put up with you. Every little game you played, but this is so much more fun, wouldn't you say? You see, I won my heart back, but you, you’re just beginning, aren’t you? You really should be nicer to people."

Taliette scooped up her bow. Her finger pressed into a bad place on the handle where the knife had dug in deep. She pulled an arrow, drew and and levelled it at Jessamy’s heart. The anger was bigger than her body. It filled the whole wood, the whole world. She was trembling with the heat of it, so much anger couldn’t possibly fit inside her. Her arms were tired and they shook as she held the extension.

"Oh, dear. You want to kill me so much, don’t you little rich girl, but the word is, you're bound. You can't hurt anyone that works for Gintas."

Taliette almost cried in frustration as she felt the tug on her core. She tried to release the arrow, but the pain inside her increased, sharp, as though something was tearing in her chest. Her fingers crooked awkwardly around the string, gripping the end of the arrow, and she could not let go.

"Oh, look at you now! Look at your eyes. You really hate me, don’t you? Before, I was just a toy to you. Now you really want me dead, and the wonderful thing is, I can hit you, but you can't hit me back."

She jabbed Taliette in the shoulder, then again in the side. She took two quick steps forward. The tip of Taliette’s drawn arrow pressed against Jessamy's chest, denting the leather. Taliette felt the tightening on the middle of her again and had to step back to stop the arrow from pricking Jessamy's skin. Her arm began to shudder.

"How long can you stand like that for, little fancy girl? What happens if you actually kill me, I wonder? What if I make you kill me? Would your body tear right in half? Wouldn’t that be a funny thing?"

Taliette felt as though her fingers were breaking. She lowered the bow. The arrow fell to the ground amongst the other twigs.

"You’re not crying, are you fancy girl?" Jessamy smiled sweetly.

Taliette glared at the floor, feeling her eyes growing hot. She recognised the look. It was one she had given to many people over the years once she had finished playing with them.

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Hours later, Gintas found her there in the clearing, hugging her knees at the foot of the tree. The light had faded and the shadows had grown cold. He put his arm around her shoulders, pulled her close, and smoothed her hair. He draped his cloak around her and it was warm.

She hated him. She felt her body start to tremble, and there was nothing she could do about it. Her breathing became ragged and tears squeezed themselves out of the corners of her eyes. Never let them see, never let them see, but she could not help the tears and the snot and the sobs that shook her.

"Never mind, my love," he said as he held her. "Never mind my little ranger girl."

Her heart rested in his right hand. The colours swirled inside. She felt it beating in time to the pattern.

"Jessamy," she choked out, hating the uneven sound of her voice. Hating the way words would not come.

"I know little one. I know everything that happens."

"You promised me. You promised not to stop me. You promised I’d be freer."

So much rage, and she felt her face twisting and her teeth grinding, and he could see it all, all the feelings inside, right there on her face like he owned her.

"There are sweeter things than apples, little ranger. Show me your bow."

The bow lay among the leaves, the jagged scratch along one side. She could hardly bear to look at it. It was a spoiled thing, all the love that had been in it turned into bitterness.

He scooped it up tenderly. He took a little bottle of oil from one of his pockets, uncorked it, then began smoothing it into the scratch. The mark faded until it was barely visible.

"Your mother left this for you, it's still your thing." He handed it back to her.

"I wanted to kill her, but you stopped me," she said. There was no way to keep the bitterness from her voice. No way to hide it. Her knuckles were white around the soft wood of the bow.

"Never mind, little one. One day, you will kill her, and it will be better for the wait. Your heart is purer than hers, but there are better things than killing. Deep breaths now."

Taliette felt her breath becoming steadier. His cloak was still warm around her shoulders. Her mother's bow was oiled and nearly as good as it had been. A wave of sleepiness passed over her. She was warm and safe, and it was almost as though mother was there. She forced the feeling down. Don't let them see.

"What are the better things?" she said, cool and amused.

"All in good time my dear."

"Now, I want to know now. You owe me."

"In good time."

"Now please!"

Gintas said nothing for a minute and she thought he would leave and take his cloak with him, but then he sniffed.

"When I promised you worlds, little ranger, I didn’t mean that metaphorically. Did I mention I am a wizard of sorts?"

She sat up straight and brushed away his cloaks. "Tell me."

He stood, and held out his hand to help her up. She ignored the hand and rose smoothly to her feet, just like Mother had shown her.

"Now, please."

"Heh, just remember, young lady, who is in charge."

"Now!"

He shook his head, and half smiled at her. "Leola's daughter," she heard him mutter under his breath.

He offered her his arm, and she took it, icy cool. She kept her eyes half closed, amused by it all.

"Walk with me then," he said. "We'll take dinner now, and afterwards, I'll show you something quite extraordinary. Then you will be a wizard of sorts, too."