The general balks at my question, taking it as an accusation. Looking over my head, he rushes to assure Awri, “Absolutely not. I would never take the liberty. The first shot is yours.”
I hum thoughtfully.
“What?” the general demands with a sigh.
“I just find it interesting that you would condemn a woman for describing the simple truth of a thing, while you, as a male, will only comment on your assumptions about it.”
A wide grin breaks upon Awri’s face as the general struggles to school himself.
“Awri, why don’t you take a shot and settle this for us? I believe you will find myassumptionsto be quite accurate,” the general says, handing her an arrow.
“I’d love to,” she chuckles, walking to a nearby tree laden with pink flowers the size of my palm, and takes aim.
She looses the arrow, narrowly missing her mark, fluttering the petals as it flies by. Her mouth twists as she eyes the bow.
“May I?” The general extends his hand, and she relinquishes it to him reluctantly.
His arrow misses the flower by a smaller margin, taking one of the petals with it when it tears past. He frowns, hardly waiting before knocking another. He takes his time, making minor adjustments to his position, offsetting the arrows trajectory. I have little doubt he compensated correctly for the flaw, a minute curve in the shaft of the weapon. This time, he will strike his mark.
The pink petals flit about in a light breeze, the creek of the general’s leather vambrace the only sound to permeate the silence as he draws the string against his cheek. I suck in a sharp breath, my hand flying to his arm, a plea in the form of a gentle squeeze. The words won’t come fast enough, and I don’t expect him to stop. I’m shocked when he loosens his hold on the string, following my line of sight.
“What is it?” he asks quietly.
“There.” I point. “In the tree.”
Just below his target, a pair of bright violet eyes stare back at us from within the thick foliage. He nods once, signaling that he sees it, and hands the bow back to Awri. The siblings survey the tree curiously, searching for whatever dissuaded the male from his shot.
When I look back, the violet eyes have vanished. A strong gust of wind sweeps up from the sea, churning the petals into a vortex as they are pulled from the tree in a cascade. If the general hadn’t confirmed what I’d seen, I’m not sure I would have trusted my own sight.
We make our way toward the cottage, Riesh and Awri at the front of our party. She’s still thanking her brother for the bow, and he continues to tell her how deserving she is. I can’t help but wonder if all siblings are like this.
“What was that thing?” I ask, looking over my shoulder toward the tree, hardly expecting the general to answer.
“A wood sprite.”
“Really?”
He nods, and I whip my body around, trying in vain to find the creature once again.
“She’ll be gone by now,” he says.
I sigh in disappointment and turn back, taking a few quick strides to catch up to my party.
“I thought all the fea creatures fled this veil in the sundering.”
“Not all of us,” he assures me.
“I didn’t mean the feyn.” Obviously.
“But we arefea creatures. Are we not?” he sneers at my unintentional slip.
He isn’t wrong. The feyn are in fact fea creatures, but while they live alongside the humans of Terr, the rest of the fea largely belonged to the forests and rarely interacted with the human race, or so I was taught. I want to yell at him for being intentionally difficult, but it occurs to me that it may be my own fault that he hasn’t warmed up to me at this point. If Awri is inclined to like me, there is no reason the general can’t learn to as well.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
He huffs in disbelief. “Don’t worry. I’ve rarely met a La’tarian who consider feyn more than mere creatures. Your particular flavor of disdain is entirely unoriginal.”
Well, foc him.
