CHAPTER IV: GRUDGING APOLOGIES

Ann did not like to apologize. Too often it reminded her of the pleading face of her elder brother as he begged their father to have mercy on her, the only girl. But she felt a kinship to Brandr, a dragon mistreated or no other reason than his race. She knew, personally, how it felt to be oppressed for reasons you could not control. When her father was summoned to the court, the jurors and judges sympathized with him. Here they thought was a soldier, a decorated war hero who had given up his freedom for the good of humankind, whose family had stood against him for being too harsh, being too stern. The juror, most of which were ex-soldiers themselves, were baffled. He was warrior, or goodness sake! So what if he gave a few knocks here and there?

They did not see the already fading bruises he had inflicted on his family; the broken arm of his only daughter he insisted was a climbing accident, the swollen eye of his eldest, which he claimed was gotten in a schoolyard brawl. As minors, Ann and her siblings were not permitted to testify. All they could do was sit in forced silence as their father spun lies against them.

And spun lies against their mother.

Ann clenched her fists and forged forward. She would get Brandr his justice if it was the last act she performed on this earth.

They had arrived at a large and wide ashen oak tree. Hanging through its canopy was a long rope with a puller at its base. Holding her breath tentatively, Ann grasped the rope with both hands and yanked it downwards. Almost immediately a blur of wood and fletching buried itself in the soft earth, two inches from her feet. Too surprised to utter a scream or a yelp of surprise, Ann rushed to the trunk of the tree and threw herself against its rough bark. If they want to shoot me, she reasoned, they'll have to angle their bows almost vertically. While they readjust I'll focus on climbing…

A second arrow whistled through the air, embedding itself in the textured bark less than an inch from her nose.

I'm still here, you know. It's been ages since I tasted combat.

Ann cursed her forgetfulness. Surely Brandr could be of some help. She raised her right arm, aiming it in the direction of the faint creaking sound of a bow being drawn backwards…

With a loud hum, Brandr unleashed a burst of flame, shooting from the palm of her hand to the tips of her fingers. It barreled through the forest, incinerating leaves and stray branches. The archer tumbled out of the tree canopy just as the flame burnt it to a crisp, sending blackened bits of leaves and wood flying. With a loud thud and a strangely metallic clatter, the archer tumbled to the ground. Ann let out a victory yell and rushed over to the stirring assailant.

In a pile of leaves, a glint of silver caught her attention. She brushed away the loose litter and uncovered a brilliant glistening bow made out of bright, glinting silver. A single length of glowing silver string formed the drawstring. In the recurve sat a length of inscribed characters. As Ann translated the script, her eyes widened in awe. The translation was a single word. "Destiny."

Ann whirled around just in time to see the archer lunge at her, a silver edged dagger in hand. Digging her right leg into the ground, she launched herself to the side as the assailant brushed past her. Twisting mid-air to avoid spraining her leg, she tumbled through the foliage. The archer ducked into a low roll and sprang to her feet, unharmed. Ann knew only one person who practiced the move day and night, without fail…

"Catherine," she spoke through clenched teeth.

Catherine stood and pulled off the mask which had been concealing her face. Underneath it a rosy complexioned face smiled venomously. A mass of midnight-black hair with highlights of blue bounced untied around her ears. She had a slender build and wide hips, and the stance and atmosphere of a Black Panther ready to pounce. A thin leaf-flat dagger hung from her pinkie finger, the blade glinting in the early afternoon sunlight.