Chapter 5: Bow and Arrow

After leaving the castle, Larson returned to his home. It remained the same as he left it—crumbled like his old self. He wished for his mother to return, but he knew that would be very unlikely to happen.

At the back of his fallen house, he knelt before his father’s grave. The inscriptions on wood read, “Here lies the greatest knight who ever lived—my father—Arsen Wolfe.”

“Father, I will save the princess, have her hand, and make you proud,” he declared. “I wish mom never left. She makes the most wonderful braised beef and seafood platter a boy could ask for.”

Larson flicked away the water forming in his right eye and rose to his feet. “I won’t be long, father. I promise.”

The boy stepped out of the city outskirts and into the thick forest. A red mark on his map blotted by the king revealed where the Oracle of the First Dawn of the Sun lived. The king advised him to seek guidance there as he might learn more about the princess’ whereabouts.

Leaves rustled on Larson’s left as he sliced through the thickets. Low snarls accompanied thumping steps.

Approaching from behind tall bushes, a lion twice his size bared its teeth. His silver sword jammed on its hilt.

Larson blocked the pounce of a three-hundred-pound beast with his own strength.

Its fangs bared at its breakfast. He overturned the force toward his left and escaped the deadly snaps as if the beast was Cerberus unleashed from the underworld, but with heads merged into a single being.

Strips of crimson decorated the boy’s arms.

He pulled out the silver shield resting on his back before the beast recovered. Clang! Roar! Gah! It was man versus beast. Gathering all his might, he repelled the lion. Another pounce and it choked on his unhilted sword.

The lion circled around him and the wind’s direction changed. Something swift brushed a millimeter away from Larson’s neck. The beast fell to the ground with a groan.

Larson’s eyed the golden arrow puncturing its forehead, perfectly centered. Larson spun to the source of the attack, heart madly pounding like a jackhammer.

The shooter had an orange braid flowing down her waist. A violet tribal cloth covered her forehead. Tucking her mahogany bow behind her back, she walked toward him. As he set his gaze on her minty eyes, his heartbeats slowed in tempo.

“Thank you for—“

She just passed by him and tended to the fallen lion. “Hey, help me carry this one. We can talk over breakfast.”

Nerves panged in Larson’s temples as he carried the beast on his back toward her camp. Sitting on two precisely cut logs facing each other, Larson skinned the beast while the tribal girl prepared the marinade from the lion’s blood.

“So, what brought you here?” Larson speared the skinned beast with a long bamboo stick and placed it over the fire.

She casually responded, “What do you mean? I live here.”

“A delicate girl like you living alone in the wilderness?” He spun the beast slowly from one end of the wooden stick. “How do you manage yourself?”

“I’m an independent woman. No man shall say how I want to live my life,” she lathered the sauce over their breakfast like a painter working on a blank canvass. “Say, how come the castle sent you without a single comrade by your side?”

“The king entrusted this mission to solely me.” He tested the meat’s tenderness with a wooden branch. “Besides, they couldn’t risk more men of tiny number while they train new recruits.”

“You seem new.” The tribal girl glanced at him.

Larson toyed with the branch in his hand. “It’s a long story.”

“The meat is not yet done. Maybe telling me a bit about your story can speed up the cooking.”

Larson agreed to tell her about his quest. The sound of adventure rang in her ears, prompting her to join him in finding the princess.

“I will join you, but on one condition.” She sliced the tender meat and passed him a piece.

Larson sunk his teeth into the delectable piece. “What is it?”

“We split fifty-fifty on whatever asset you receive from the king.” She pointed a dagger at him. “You get to keep the princess for yourself.”

“Deal.” He nodded. “Say, what’s your name, anyway?”

“You can call me Merlize,” she offered her hand.

He received and shook it. A spark of lightning surged through his veins. “Right. I’m Larson by the way.”

Strange, what was that feeling just now? Larson’s heart skipped a beat after letting go of her hand. Was it fear that he felt or something else entirely? Shaking it off, he steered his thoughts away from that unknown feeling.

Merlize paused for a second. Maybe he’s a Lightning Bearer or something, she thought to herself. With an unbothered face, they cleaned up after themselves.

After packing up each of their stuff, Merlize led the way to the Oracle of the First Dawn of the Sun as she claimed to have passed by her house during her hunt for food. “Come on, it’s not that far from here.”

Larson stopped to readjust his shoes. “Hey, wait up!”

“Hurry up, molasses!” Merlize playfully laughed at him. “Let’s strike the path while the day is young.”

He caught up to her. The road remained silent for the duo as they treaded the way. The sky maintained the darkness above their heads. The clouds turned grayish from shielding most of the sunlight. Firebugs aided their eyes from straying off the path.

“Hey, I told you my story, would you tell me yours?” Larson broke the silence.

Merlize sighed, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There must be something you could tell me.” He persisted.

“From what I can remember as a child, I had no one and nothing except my golden bow.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Larson felt dumb for asking.

Merlize rubbed his back and shrugged. “I got used to it.”

The path was more silent than before. Larson knew how it felt to be alone, but having no one by your side since childhood was pain deeper than a sharp stab wound.

“Oh look, we’re here.” Her piercing voice brought Larson back at the task at hand.