[Training] break your own bones

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

With the new house instilled and installed, the youth had maneuvered her training targets as well, somewhere along the sides, overlooking the coast, listening to the thunderous, tempestuous waves. No longer the misshapened, hastily put together tower of haphazardly-laden rocks, sticks, stacked on top of one another, the honeybee had taken some time to establish adequate provisions. Most were rounded onslaughts, hay and stray tucked behind them to stop a rampaging arrow (she just made sure not to use the fire ones there), painted bullseyes with their varying hues and colorations. Some others were clear renderings and effigies of people, a few rearranged on days of spite and vitriol (if one looked like Sunjata at the moment, perhaps others wouldn’t be brazen or bold enough to ask why). Another had an obvious depiction of a ghost whale – as if the spitting and splitting of her bow might compound and muster into enough rage to take down the deadly beasts.

Layering them out in separated, different distances, and Fangorn off to the side, an eager overseer, Melita grabbed her quiver, taking steps and paces back. It’d been a long while since she’d embraced her bow, felt the string in her hands, the pulse and pull of its taut constrictions, the power behind the muscles in her arm, the scrape of the enamel of her skin, and she craved it now, raising her arm as if pulling the strand – watching as it ever-faithfully unfurled before her.

Then, the training arrows, notched along her back, taken from their quiver and placed upon the armament, cherishing the moment, the sweep and flow of her breath as she took practiced, perfected movements. A tug, a draw, and aim in her sights, pinpointed for the one farthest away – and then released, watching, waiting, for the fervent resounding, reverberating sound of its merciless onslaught.

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

Aurelia

and that the world is always our fault
when we did nothing, how did we do wrong?

Aurelia breathed a soft sigh into the salty air, overlooking the waves as they crashed against the coastline. She carried an empty net in her hands, the defeat of fruitless efforts written across her body. Her tired hand barely clung to the ropes, heaving them over her shoulders; her shoulders slouched, though there was no wind; her expression sank as she locked eyes with the sea. She'd come out to try fishing but, it had proven futile.

She had made her way up a steep, rocky path when a cracking sound split the air. Curious as a cat, Aurelia quickened her steps and peered over the hillsides to see someone with fiery orange hair drawing their bow against a row of targets. She paused to watch the blitz of arrows as they flew through the air. They moved so quick that she could hardly see more than a brief shadow against the sky before the tooth of the arrow ripped into its target.

"Hey!"

Aurelia was up the hill before she could comprehend what she was doing. She spoke from the sidelines with a heaving chest, "You're really talented with that thing," she glanced away from the targets and towards Melita, an impressed raise of her expression, "I saw you from down by the water, thought I'd come and say hello."

She caught her breath and paused to drink from a flask of water tied to her belt. The liquid pooled against her lips before she licked it off. She set down her net on a nearby rock and asked, ever-so-casually, "Do you think you'd ever have time to teach someone how to use it?"

and I've been thinking that when we thought
the world would break us, that we weren't wrong

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

Again, she told herself. Again and again and again until the winds ceased to howl and her bones ached and nothing, no one, would touch anyone she cherished or loved. Perhaps this was just as much for her as it was for everyone else; for Nate, who was likely going to be in danger from something in near future, for Sunjata, who was an idiot, and for all the others she’d begun to collect once more. With war potentially brimming on the horizon, she wasn’t going to be caught outright. She wasn’t going to be pathetic. She wasn’t going to be incapable.

Not anymore.

She walked towards the targets, intending to pull the arrows out, one by one, and repeat the process, when a voice called out over the wind. Her brows furrowed as she yanked, directing her attention towards what she thought was some stoking of familiarity, and then Aurelia appeared.

The other woman seemed to be everywhere – though judging by her empty net, perhaps she’d be apt to trying other motions.

Her head tilted a fraction, as if struggling to decipher if she continued on with the upcoming antics, while Aurelia seemed to gain her breath. Melita didn’t expect the compliment, her eyes running automatically to her bow, and then back to the arrows as they were plucked out one by one. “Thank you. I’ve been practicing for a long time.” Since she’d been yanked out of her home, and forced to survive, forced to endure, forced to protect. A shrug of her shoulders indicated it wasn’t a big deal, except it probably was, and she swallowed down some foreign notch of an emotion she couldn’t identify, wandering back to her previous post. Fangorn grumbled a hello towards the fellow smuggler, while Melita pondered over the request.

The inquiry was fairly obvious, which took away the coolness, the apathy, the indifference away from the honeybee, pooling neatly, ferociously, into a mild snort, billowing back into the sea breeze. “I’ve taught some.” Were she Attuned, the smile she rendered would’ve been fanged; but since she wasn’t, it came out on the vestiges and ethers of obvious, absolute mischief. She shouldered her own bow, and went towards the pile she’d begun making, chiseling, sculpting, out of the finer wood from outskirts and jungles. She grabbed hold of a simple training armament, and passed it towards Aurelia. “Have you ever used one before?”

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

Aurelia

and that the world is always our fault
when we did nothing, how did we do wrong?

Melita's admittance of using the bow for a long time made Aurelia wonder at why, though she didn't feel so bold as to ask. It was quite obvious that neither of them had the easiest paths in life to lead them here, where the journey ahead of them was shrouded by the great unknown. Their demeanors were hardened by years of strife, whether it was a similar history or not didn't matter. Aurelia felt empathy for the distant look on Melita's face - brief as it was, she noticed it.

Fangorn grumbled from somewhere on the sidelines and Aurelia let out a soft huff of laughter, a break from her ever-brewing, deep thoughts, "Hey- What do you call him?" She arched curious eyebrows at Melita with her question, "or her. I can't really tell, sorry."


Aurelia wasn't sure what to make of the mischievous undertone of Melita's words. She hung back as the other woman turned away to approach a pile of assorted things, some of them looked like weapons. But, after a moment's consideration, she gave in and followed. Surprise was evident in the wrinkling of her forehead, a question in her eyes as if to say, 'wait, really?' Her hand reached up to accept the bow.

"No, my-" she stifled the words that caught in her throat, pushing down the memory that tore, that bloomed, that wilted. She blinked, her throat rumbling as she cleared it. Remnants of emotions over a past life darkened her eyes but, she shook her head and it was gone, "I've never used one."

She fumbled with the weapon at first, turning her face away from Melita's burning, golden eyes. Remembering how she'd handled the bow only moments prior, Aurelia tried to replicate it. She could try to emanate the sharp posture and steady grip of someone that had spent years to perfect their form. She would fall short, however, with uneven shoulders and an even worse grip.

This newness to a weapon was unfamiliar; she stuck to what she knew - the blade. Which explained why she was so cautiously wading through these new 'waters', whereas if Melita had handed her a blade, she'd be making quick work of the wooden Sunjata dummy. A muddled frown disgraced her soft facial features and she looked back at Melita for guidance. "How's this?"

and I've been thinking that when we thought
the world would break us, that we weren't wrong

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

The vampire gourd’s echoes were a welcome reprieve and distraction, and her features softened visibly, half a smile etched along her lips while she marauded through the collection of things, looking for more training arrows. “That’s Fangorn. I got him a couple years ago.” Which felt like lifetimes too, and the pumpkin hissed something else, to which she permitted a light laugh. “His kind terrorizes the Grounds every Leafchange. He was one of the last ones to survive that season, so I offered him some food, and that was that.” They were bonded, together, tied and knotted and gnarled, tethered and hooked. Another shrug, as if this weren’t something out of the ordinary, normalcy on this earth.

Perhaps a better alternative than whatever glimpsed and scraped at Aurelia too – with the way her words ceased, halted, desisted, and Melita understood the way things choked and bottled down, down, down, so they couldn’t escape. They festered instead. So she took the answer and didn’t ask anything more, wasn’t her place, and the youth, despite all of her audacity, boldness, and impudence, knew when to stop. Knew how the pain and torment composed, rooted, and grasped.

So her eyes watched as the other woman attempted to adopt her stance, quirking a brow upwards at the way her shoulders bunched and coiled, at the way the grip would instill nothing but an arrow straight into the ground. “Let’s see,” she conjured a breath, flattening out the snort threatening to buoy there. “Straighten your shoulders, and if you hold your bow like that, nothing is going to go well.” The honeybee maneuvered to stand beside her, drawing her bow once more, conforming, configuring into the familiar positioning. “Ground yourself. Your strength is going to come from your arms, but it has to start somewhere. Put the weight in your feet.” She shifted so that her own limbs went accordingly, one foot in front of the other, as if she might be ready to face the world. “Hand tight over your weapon. It goes nowhere. It’s a part of you, an extension of you.” Like a blade.

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

Aurelia

and that the world is always our fault
when we did nothing, how did we do wrong?

Aurelia listened as Melita relayed the origin story of 'Fangorn' the pumpkin, who hissed about something in the background. It brought a smile to Melita's face, and Aurelia asked with a confused look, "Can you understand him since he's your, er- companion?" She knew little about them beyond the fact that their people held them very dear, assuming them to be like a normal 'pet' but.. Fangorn and Jack's talking cat were far from normal pets.

She appreciated that Melita didn't bring attention to her mistake, to the words she almost said. If questioned about it, she wasn't sure how she would respond. Maybe Melita would understand the events in her life leading up to the actions she'd taken. So far, everyone had been pretty accepting of her past, and her determination to change her path in life. Still, it was jarring. She didn't deserve it, she deserved to be taken for what she was; a murderer. Instead, she would bury it in her mind. Self-preservation dictated that she not make enemies unnecessarily.

So she raised a brow at Melita's stifled amusement directed at her stance. "Hey, I've never done this before, okay?" she mumbled sourly, though she couldn't help her playful smile. But Melita was quick to make corrections, to pick apart her stance and turn it into something better. So Aurelia's lips flattened out in a determined line, trying to follow through with the instructions as they came.

Her shoulders were pulled back so that the blades almost touched, allowing Melita to help her in the pull of her bow. It gave into her meager strength, and she sucked in a concentrated breath, feeling it flow into her chest. Weight in your feet, she reminded herself, planting her boots more firmly into the ground and allowing the weight of her straightened stance to fall there.

Her shoulders pressed back further, extending the bow just that much farther. But it went nowhere, and Aurelia gripped it with careful, calculated fingers. "Now what?" She said without looking at Melita, her weight shifting slightly with the words - but she promptly readjusted. All of her focus was on mainting the form, not paying much attention to where she was aiming.

and I've been thinking that when we thought
the world would break us, that we weren't wrong

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

“Mhm.” Which was a response laden with mischief, as she gave no other indication of what her companion thought, immersed, or fixed between bonds. “It’s a connection. They’re always in your mind.” And perhaps vice versa, when her emotions ran rampantly, in their mercurial, tempestuous, blistering might, the little pumpkin was there, trying his damned best in a world of might and demolition. “He once helped us fight against a massive gourd laden with the blight.” And for that notion alone, she dipped down to grant him several scratches, and a purr ensued.

But then, back to business. At the never done this before semblance, the youth shrugged. “You only get to use that excuse once.” Then maneuvered on, watching, noting, as Aurelia placed herself as Melita had instructed, and then the youth nodded, tilting her head, studying, scrutinizing. “Now you take back the string.”

She demonstrated once more, resuming her stance, holding the bow before her, and then drawing back the strand. It required far more strength, fortitude, and prowess than one might imagine, and she waited until the other woman had adhered to the motions again. “When you’re aiming, don’t use the end of the bow. You use your eye. The arrow will follow.” Of course, she hadn’t actually handed one over to the fellow smuggler yet; not so trusting, not so bold, in the first few moments of training. “When you think you’re ready, release it. Be careful, because it’ll likely skim over the skin of your arm.” Her gaze went to a few bracers she had left in her container of items, but she figured she’d let Aurelia test it first. “You’ll get an arrow when you can show me you won’t maim yourself.” A cheeky grin flickered and followed, and then she let go of her own – listened to the residual snap of its liberation, the imagined volley of a flying weapon and armament snagging, spiraling, searing, through the air.

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

Aurelia

and that the world is always our fault
when we did nothing, how did we do wrong?

Aurelia couldn't imagine having the thoughts and emotions of another creature leaking into her mind at random, or even at will. It was surprising to hear that a pumpkin had helped with something like that, but she let the conversation steer towards the bow. She'd leave those ponderings for later.

Aurelia tipped her head in a half-nod, a silent admittance that Melita was absolutely right. But, hey, at least she got to use the excuse before it was too late! At the instruction to take back the string, Melita went on to show her own example. Aurelia narrowed her eyes down at the string leading across the bow's length. She took it, swooped it in her two forefingers, and brought it back. She could feel the resilience and the strength of the instrument beneath her fingers as she did so, the pull that it gave against her. That, if she didn't follow Melita's guidance, would be snapping back against the arc of the weapon should she slacken at all.

Not to use the end of the bow, Aurelia blinked and stopped looking at it. Although, as she glanced over at Melita without turning her head, she realized that she was definitely missing something in her bow - that the other woman had. A flare of excitement jittered in her chest; she wanted to feel the give of the arrow beneath her fingertips, wanted to feel it rip through the air, to feel the satisfaction of it hitting its mark.

But Melita warned her against getting ahead of herself, about the risk of injury. She lowered the bow, slowly giving back to the pull of the string so that it didn't snap back against her (or the bow).

"Huh!?" a perplexed expression worked its way to her features, "You gotta at least let me try to shoot one. Come on, my stance is good!" She felt like a kid excited for a new game, ready to play, ready to join in with the others, but being told they had to go home right as it was getting fun. "Look, I can still remember every step without you telling me," she made a show of proving it, setting her weight into her feet, pulling her strength up from her legs and into her chest with a puff of the salty air, shifting her shoulders so that the blades were tucked back. She hooked her fingers around the string with prompt determination and pulled it back in one broad, steady stroke. Well, Melita was a good teacher - because Aurelia was feeling quite confident in her ability to at least fire the bow now. "And I have to be careful because it can injure me. It's a weapon and I should respect it," she repeated, adding on those last parts because it had definitely already been instilled in her when she was younger. She then corrected herself, "I do respect it."

and I've been thinking that when we thought
the world would break us, that we weren't wrong

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

She watched; never really quite the tutor, more or less the pupil in many circumstances. Ample opportunities to grow, especially when her personality demanded and exalted from it, especially when her tempestuous efforts sometimes caused a backslide. But she’d helped and assisted with enough people to get her point across, her demonstrations, the familiar, inherent disposition of the armaments between her fingers. So she ensured Aurelia heeded her advice, only grinning, shaking her head, at the perplexed expression registering along the other woman’s face – the depths of the Cheshire smile tipping into mischief, but not unsuitably so. Her eyes scrutinized, examined, putting up a ruse of pacing around the woman, hand going to her chin as if committed to an important inspection. “I suppose, you might be ready.”

Because she was doing the stance, and really, there wasn’t much more to do except try.

A promise of respect towards the weapon was a step in the right direction, and so Melita permitted the pretense of conceding. Bending down towards her stash again, she retrieved several training arrows, blunted edges, no serrated, pointed fringes where the wrong end could end up in an inexperienced individual’s foot. She handed one over, lifting her own bow to show how to notch it. “Like so,” and the honeybee placed it along the string, pulling the strand tight in her grasp. “When you think you’re ready, set your eyes on the closest target. The arrow will follow your sight.” The armament was connected to Aurelia’s body, and therefore, would willingly grace along its measures. In another volley of demonstration, Melita instigated her exact implications and predilections – resuming her stance, gilded gaze pinpointed on one of the farther targets, releasing the strand, and watching it fly through the air – a favorable schism landing into the goals’ midst.

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

Aurelia

and that the world is always our fault
when we did nothing, how did we do wrong?

Aurelia felt a flicker of excitement course through her at the sight of Melita's smile, hoping that her form was convincing. When the other woman made a show of examining it, Aurelia would pull in a deeper breath and remain as rigid and controlled as possible. She could do this, her body practically screamed the words - though she would remain silent and let Melita decide because she did have respect. Not just for the weapon but, for the strong influence that stood alongside her, that demonstrated with supple ease how to shoot the arrow.

Aurelia took hers, carefully following along with Melita's guidance. She felt a bit shaky, trying to make sure everything was lined up perfectly. With the actual arrow added into the mix, things felt a little more awkward; she was painfully slow, and she hoped she'd be faster at this should she ever need to use a bow in the future. Still, though, she appreciated the learning process and her face contorted with the concentration it took her.

Set your eyes "Alright," she breathed out, to show she was listening. Aurelia reflected what she'd just learned, her green gaze pulling apart from the arrow - which was where it instinctively went - to glare towards one of the ghost whale dummies. An arrow was already fixed in it, Aurelia's gaze burned a hole into the wood beside it.

She sucked in a breath, feeling her muscles stretch in ways they hadn't before, pulling the training arrow back along the string. And she breathed out, releasing the arrow in the same instant. It throttled through the air, forming a small arc before it hit the dummy, just a few inches away from her intended mark. Despite its dull edge, it bit into the wood and steadied itself there, propped up beside the other arrow. Its dig was shallow, easily dismantled from the dummy but, nonetheless, it stood proudly.

Aurelia slacked her grip on the bow and checked to see that, indeed, her arrow had hit. She grinned, a cheer swelling in her chest, and flung her arms up into the air, "Whoo!" She let out a light-hearted laugh, "Look at that!" Her green eyes, wide with surprise, turned on Melita for her reaction, Aurelia's own grin softening and her arms descending, "Do you trust me now?"

and I've been thinking that when we thought
the world would break us, that we weren't wrong

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

Her bow drawn downwards, firm in her grip, tied to her existence, the youth was quiet in her scrutiny once more. It was time for Aurelia to prove her merit and mettle, without the fire and flames surrounding her, without Melita’s insistence droning into the back of her mind. So the honeybee became a mere witness as the other woman instigated her stance, notched the arrow, and released its training accord. On strength, fortitude, or just plain fortune, the weapon launched its little tirade, making a resounding beat and decibel upon the ghost whale effigy. Her eyes widened, and figments of a smile registered on her mouth, a snort, with no attempt to be muffled, exuded and reverberated on the same intonations. Fangorn might’ve grumbled something congratulatory, but it was difficult to decipher.

“Well done.” She shrugged, turning back towards Aurelia, grabbing hold of another arrow of the same regiment, of the same ilk. “Let’s see if it was beginner’s luck.” A dare, a challenge, a provocation in the sprite’s gaze, the heralds of a smirk intertwining. She offered nothing about trust, about confidence, about assurance; waiting for all of that to fall apart too.

Not to be outdone, not to be outshone, Melita took her bow back along her arms, inhaling, exhaling, the arrow already bound and traced to the strands. A honing eye, a guiding hand, a blistering, malicious little star – her embers crackled, fizzled, scathed in her heart, and she released the string, taking in the Sunjata painted target, as the arrow loomed and zoomed. It spun wildly, wickedly, into the farther goal’s leg, meant to be an irksome, irritating wound.

Then she ceased, and handed another training figment to the fellow smuggler, the demand on the air. “Again.”

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

Aurelia

and that the world is always our fault
when we did nothing, how did we do wrong?

Aurelia's smile wiggled into something more like unsurprised amusement at Melita's lackluster reaction. Of course, it was only the first arrow she'd shot. The next one might not be as steadfast against the target. In fact, Aurelia really doubted she'd land another shot like that with the training arrows - which was exactly why she had been pretty impressed with herself.

That was soon gone, though. Melita challenged her. In acceptance of it, her hand reached for the arrow being offered. But she waited, watched. Melita regained her form, the very same she'd taught Aurelia - except more poised, more confident; seasoned. She was fierce with the instrument, a promise made in the sing of her arrow as it went flying. Aurelia couldn't help but to watch in admiration.

She readied the arrow, knotching it onto the string, as she was told to try again. But before she brought the bow up to aim it and resume that distinct stance, she turned her face back to Melita.

"That's a pretty good depiction of him. Sunjata, right?" A smirk threatened to break out across her face. She was already aiming for it, the bow poised in her hands, strength coming from her core. She commented quietly, "I feel sorry for anyone that goes up against you."

Then, she steadied her hands, stilled her eyes, and let the arrow fly. Only, before she'd let go, one of her fingers had fumbled to regain its grip, interfering with the integrity and focus of her shot. She aimed a little too high, in result. Much to her chagrin, it went sizzling past the Sunjata dummy's head; a narrow miss.

"Damn," she muttered, frowning in disappointment as she relaxed. She glanced over at Melita, expecting to see her quite happy with herself for predicting this. Pre-emptively defending herself, Aurelia said, "It was close, at least."

and I've been thinking that when we thought
the world would break us, that we weren't wrong

Melita

they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive

As the arrow harpooned its way into fake Sunjata’s knee, she stifled a grin, head tilting slightly in Aurelia’s direction at the comment. “He’s my uncle and sometimes he just pisses me off.” By way of explanation. “The feeling is probably mutual.” The ruffian grin didn’t wash or varnish away though; accepting that they were far too similar, that impulsive, stupid, idiotic movements and maneuvers were par for the course with both of them. How Nate put up with the streamlined lunacy and foolishness was beyond her; grateful for him nonetheless.

She moved to snag another training arrow for both of them while Aurelia resumed her stance and poise, catching the quiet comment about anyone going up against her. And for a moment, she wondered if all her ferocity, all her vehemence, all her vengeful tactics had ever really mattered. If at some point the malice, menace, and fervency had wound away and actually accomplished anything other than a great deal of loathing, frustration, and bitterness.

But that was what she wanted to be sometimes – a fearful little demon, who no one would dare to hurt or harm again. Her eyes fell to the ground, and then her gaze quickly recovered the snicker, the Cheshire ramparts. “I wouldn’t,” she offered back, a command on the wind. “They earned it.” Earned her loathing, her contempt, her prowess, her condemnation. An arch of her brow remained towards Aurelia, but then let the rest of it go and glide into the wind.

Besides, they had effigies to destroy.

Except the honeybee’s eye caught the measures of fumbling fingers, but there wasn’t enough time to say anything before the armament was cast, and the element zoomed, skimming over the Sunjata model. A sigh flickered through her lungs, then a snort. “He gets away with so much.” She shook her head, and then assembled her critique. “You have to maintain that strong grip throughout. Give your fingers a break for a moment.” She made a show of shaking her own out, unclenching, flexing; but they were calloused and worn from years within the weapon’s reach, and hardly hurt nowadays.

Then she set her sights for the target the furthest distance away – another set of ghost whales painted on its side. “For all my experience though, I’ve yet to hit one of those damned whales.” Not for lack of trying with either cannon or arrow – and she seethed against it now, settled into her corruption. Striving on precision and might, she followed through on all of her tactics, drawing, pulling, releasing – and perhaps it was the distance, the misfortune, the luck the horrific beasts always had, but the arrow too skimmed over the top, and all she could do was sigh. “One day, you bastards.” Her gaze drifted back to Aurelia, proffering a nod, permitting her to try once more.

because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life

Aurelia

and that the world is always our fault
when we did nothing, how did we do wrong?

Well, her explanation was explanation enough - Aurelia understood what it was like with family. There were plenty of times that her sisters and her did not see eye-to-eye on things. Plenty. At Melita's comment that anyone she went up against deserved it, Aurelia's smirk broke completely through. Not because she doubted that at all but, because it was a good way to look at it and anyone stupid enough to go up against Melita did deserve it. "Yeah, probably," she murmured in agreement.

And the arrow was soaring through the air, never to hit its mark, lost on the wind.

Only, Melita didn't stand there was though she was gloating in Aurelia's miss, as was expected. So Aurelia was pleasantly surprised not to be mocked or ridiculed, and even more pleased at Melita's joke about Sunjata getting away with too much. She let out a soft breath of laughter at that one, already sort of knowing what the other woman meant.

The bow was lowered at the sound of the critique, and Aurelia nodded curtly to the directions. She flexed out her fingers as Melita had done. Admittedly, they were feeling sore. The skin there was not used to pulling back such strong wire. It had already cut hard indents. Not that she'd ever complain about it out loud, though. Call it pride or bravery or what-have-you; she always suffered in silence like a damn fool. If Melita had not said anything, she would never have indicated that she needed a break.

For a second, as Aurelia took the moment to observe every move Melita made to shoot her own arrow, she thought that Melita was only talking about the dummy that stood there against the hillside. But she momentarily realized that she was also referring to the actual ghost whales, the ones that had stopped the Ark from setting out to sea that season.

Pausing as she went for another training arrow, Aurelia let it hover around the bow she held. Her gaze drifted back up to Melita. She asked, "What do you think we'll do about them? The whales. Does that happen every time the Ark goes on a voyage?"

She didn't wait much longer after that, making a show of fluid motions as she knotched the arrow and aimed the bow towards the ghost whale. Her fingers steadied along the place they needed to perch, hesitating to release just yet. Her gaze locked onto the pretend whale, and the arrow flew before she even knew she had let it.

An extension of her own body and mind, it knew her intent and it thudded against the whale's eye. If it had been sharper, pointed, it would have embedded itself there. Only, it wasn't, so it fell to the ground. Aurelia tilted her head back with a grin and lowered her weapon.

and I've been thinking that when we thought
the world would break us, that we weren't wrong