“I’m not going anywhere. You have to accommodate my needs, because I’m disabled.” I stuck out my tongue.
“That’s too damn bad, because so am I.” Daddy threw a pillow at me, and I smacked it away from my face. “I’m not taking your shit excuses. Get up, peanut.”
He wasn’t going to leave me alone until I did what he said, so I let a bunch of swear words fly as I hoisted myself off the couch and into my chair. “There. Happy?”
“No. Move it.”
“Make me.” I growled the words through clenched teeth. I hadn’t challenged him since I was a teenager, but I wasn’t giving in without a fight.
Daddy knelt down to look me directly in the eyes. “You’re not going to waste away. I know what that’s like, and it’s an awful existence. I’ll be damned before I let my daughter fall into a pit she can’t pull herself out from, so I’m dragging you out.”
“Fine,” I spat. “But you’re wasting your time.”
“You’re never a waste of my time, peanut. An annoyance, sometimes.”
Daddy took me down to the training arena. It was completely empty. I hadn’t been here since our demigod lessons had taken place. On a table sat a long black case, though I wasn’t sure what was inside of it.
My father opened up the case, withdrawing a wooden bow that was painted blue with elaborate Hawkei designs, runes running up the length. I’d seen it before hanging in my father’s office, but he’d never shown it to me, so I never paid it much attention.
He strung the bow, which didn’t look like too much effort. If Daddy could do it, I figured it couldn’t be too hard to pull back.
“This was your grandfather’s bow,” Daddy said lowly, handing it to me. “He was carrying it when he died, and he went down fighting.”
I’d never shot a bow before. Daddy and Ez sometimes took their bows to go hunting, but I’d never joined them, because I didn’t have any interest. I ran my fingers over the wood. “Why are you giving me this?”
“Because it’s time it was passed down to you.” Daddy knelt beside me again. “Your spirit guide carried this bow. It’s only right that you have it.”
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
“Use it well.”
“What, you mean… like in a fight?”
Daddy nodded.
I sputtered. “What’s this little bow going to do against a thousand magic casters?”
“More than you think it will, but only if you believe in it,” Daddy replied. “The magic isn’t in the power people wield. It’s inside of us. You still have that spark. You just need to call upon it in a different way.”
The bow seemed to tingle beneath my fingers. I swallowed thickly, struggling to breathe.
“I know you’re scared, because you don’t know how to defend yourself anymore, let alone a child,” Daddy said softly. “No mother should ever feel defenseless. I’m going to help you take back your power so you can fight back again.”
“And what if I don’t want to do this?” I glared at him in rebellion.
“I’ve tried to be gentle, sweetheart, and it’s not getting through to you. If you want to do this the hard way and are only going to respond to tough love, guess I gotta play the role of the hard-ass, because your mother sure won’t.”
Daddy reached for a set of arrows tucked into a leather quiver. “Now let’s begin.”
I rolled to the center of the training arena. The old targets we’d used for our demigod lessons were still here. Daddy had me turn my chair parallel to the target so I was shooting off my left side. He showed me where to notch the bow, then helped me to draw it back, correcting my body. “Straighten up. Balance the bow in your hand; don’t grip it too tight. Then extend your arm, leaving a slight bend in your elbow. There you go. When you draw back, you’ll anchor your finger to the corner of your mouth so that every shot’s consistent.”
Daddy demonstrated like he was holding an imaginary bow, so that I knew where to place my hands. “Deep breath in as you draw, then steady exhale as you aim. Don’t watch the arrow— keep your eye on the target. When you’re ready, release the string gently.”
I had to adjust my body to lean over the side of my chair to make room for the string. I expected my spine to cry out in protest, or for this to be excruciatingly painful, but it wasn’t. I didn’t have to twist that far to pull back the bow, and I could adjust my body so the movement was comfortable.
We were the only two people in here, but I felt as if the room was packed with my ancestors who’d come to observe me learn this ancient art. It was as if my Grandpa Mitoh was helping me to draw back the bow, positioning my arms and giving me strength. I wasn’t magical anymore, but I swore I felt his spirit beside me, teaching me where to aim and how far to pull the string back.
I let the first arrow fly. It sailed across the room and sank into the edge of the target. I beamed. I was sure I’d fail to hit anything and that would somehow prove I wasn’t meant to do this.
