Aria - Chapter 11

The arrow sailed through the air with a crisp, satisfying hiss: clean, fast, perfect.

It struck the centre of the target with a dull thunk, quivering for just a second before settling. A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

Bullseye.

The evening breeze drifted through the bushland, soft and cool against my skin, chasing away the last heat of the warm spring day. The kind of breeze that rustled through the gum trees and made the leaves whisper to one another. It felt good. Grounding.

I didn't come out here for anyone else. Just me, my bow, and the quiet.

No school noise. No people asking questions, I didn't feel like answering. No pressure to be loud, or funny, or even present. Out here, I could just be still. Focused. Me.

I rolled my shoulders back, feeling the slight tension from the repetitive pulls, and notched another arrow. My fingers adjusted around the grip of my recurve bow, smooth, worn in all the right places from use. I drew the string back slowly, feeling the tension build in my arms, in my spine, in the space just behind my eyes.

Aurora sang softly in my left AirPod, haunting and melodic, her voice threading through the breeze like it belonged there. My right ear was left open to the world around me, to the natural rhythm of the bush, the distant birdsong, the wind, the occasional snap of a twig under a wild dog or something.

Inhale. Focus. Release.

The arrow flew again, landing with precision just beside the last one. Fourth arrow, nearly stacked on top of the other three.

I exhaled slowly, a breath I hadn't realised I was holding.

Not bad.

I lowered the bow and gave a small nod of approval to no one in particular, just acknowledging the quiet pride in my chest. It wasn't about showing off. It wasn't even about improvement, though that was nice. It was about control. Consistency. Having something that was mine.

My boots crunched softly on the dry dirt and fallen leaves as I made my way to the target, a makeshift stand I'd rigged from an old tyre filled with hay and canvas. I crouched beside it, humming along to the song still playing, and started pulling the arrows free one by one. They came loose with a bit of resistance, the thud of the canvas giving way each time strangely satisfying.

Each arrow had clean lines. No warping. Fletching is still smooth. I turned one slowly in my fingers, admiring the quiet elegance of it.

People underestimated archery. Thought it was some medieval cosplay or Hunger Games phase. But they didn't get the way it made you breathe. The way it taught you to quiet the noise in your own head until the only thing left was your heartbeat and the target.

I straightened up, brushing dirt off my jeans and sliding the arrows back into my quiver. A kookaburra laughed somewhere in the distance, sharp and sudden, echoing through the trees like it knew a secret.

I glanced up at the fading sky, hints of pink and orange melting into twilight.

I still had a bit of daylight left.

And just enough calm left in me to make the next round even cleaner. 

I nocked another arrow, eyes narrowing as twilight deepened around me. The last hints of daylight bled out behind the gumtrees, replaced by the hush of early night. The bush was changing, birds settling, insects rising, the world tilting gently into its nocturnal rhythm.

I drew back the string, breathing slowly, steadily.

Then I let go.

The arrow flew fast, smooth, but something was different this time. It shimmered slightly as it cut through the air, like it had caught moonlight in its path. It struck the target with a strange sound, not a dull thud, but something clearer. A tone, like metal against crystal. I blinked, startled.

That's when the breeze shifted.

Cooler. Sharper. Scented with eucalyptus and something older. I froze as the hairs on my arms lifted, not from cold, but from instinct. Something had changed. Something was… watching.

And then I saw it.

Just beyond the line of trees, a shape emerged. A kangaroo. But not grey, not red, this one was pure white. Its fur glowed faintly in the growing dark, like it had been carved from moonlight itself. Its large eyes locked with mine, still and calm. Unafraid. Curious.

I didn't move. Couldn't, really.

It stepped forward once, slow and silent. I watched it like I was in a dream, rooted to the spot with my breath caught in my throat.

The creature lowered its head slightly, almost like a nod. Then, with a graceful hop, it turned and disappeared back into the trees. The second it vanished, the weight in the air lifted. The magic (if that's what it was) faded like mist.

Silence returned.

Normal sounds crept back in: a rustling leaf, the wind moving through the trees, Aurora's song humming faintly in my left ear. Everything looked the same. But I didn't feel the same.

I lowered my bow and stared at the place where the kangaroo had stood. My fingers brushed the wooden grip. It felt warmer than before. Familiar. Almost… connected to something I couldn't explain.

"What the hell was that…" I murmured aloud, heart still steady but mind racing.

Maybe I was overtired. Maybe I was just seeing things.

But deep down, I knew better.

Something had happened.

And whatever it was…

It had been watching from the trees.

~~~

Parent-teacher interviews had officially begun. The final bell had rung hours ago, but instead of heading for the bus bay like we normally would, the group of us stayed behind, hanging around campus as the sun dipped below the trees and the sky deepened into indigo.

The Year 12s were manning the BBQ for volunteer hours, their smoke and sausages filling the courtyard air with something that almost masked the scent of nerves drifting out of the MPC.

Most of the students were dressed in their usual after-school chaos, untucked shirts, sleeves rolled, ties long abandoned. A few of us had settled just outside the MPC, sitting in the familiar concrete patch with the vending machines buzzing faintly nearby.

Adrian slumped on the bench beside me, shoulders low, eyes fixed on his phone screen like he'd just read something personally offensive.

"Fuck, man…" he muttered.

Thea raised an eyebrow at him and then glanced at me. "What's up with him?" she asked, nodding toward him with her chin.

I didn't even get the chance to answer before Max leaned forward from where he was stretched out on the pavement and grinned.

"Probably nervous about the water-filled condom he threw at a teacher", he said, casually biting into his sausage sandwich like he hadn't just thrown a grenade into the conversation.

Victor, who'd been mid-sip from his water bottle, spat a full mouthful out onto the grass, coughing and spluttering. "What the fuck, man?!" he wheezed, shooting Max a glare.

I burst into quiet laughter, trying to hide it behind my hand. Thea rolled her eyes but smirked anyway.

"You're such a child," she muttered at Max, who just winked in response.

Honestly, I loved moments like this. The easy banter. The inside jokes. The way we always found our corner of chaos, even when school tried to press everything into neat lines.

And the best part? None of us were actually in trouble, so there was no pressure, just good food, good gossip, and mild second-hand embarrassment.

More students trickled into the courtyard, most of them Year 9s like us. Their expressions ranged from bored to mildly panicked as they followed their parents toward the main entrance of the MPC. You could always tell who'd behaved this semester; they were chill. The others? Already sweating.

My best example: Adrian

"Oh god… we're in for a fun night," Victor muttered beside me, nodding toward the front gates.

I followed his gaze, and immediately had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing.

"Oh my god…"

Coming down the main path was Mrs. Callas, heels clicking, clipboard in hand, all business as usual. She was locked in what looked like a tense conversation with Mr Kosta, Lena's dad, who stood stiff as a board with his arms crossed.

A few steps behind them, Lena marched forward with a face like thunder. Zach followed like a lost puppy, holding his school bag in one hand and gesturing with the other as he tried, once again, to get her attention.

We all instinctively turned away the second Lena's gaze swept across the courtyard; none of us wanted to be caught watching that trainwreck.

"Haven't they been at it since February?" Adrian asked, finally lifting his eyes from his phone, which now sat forgotten in his lap.

"Yep," I said, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "Going strong."

Thea adjusted her glasses, glancing toward the school building with a neutral expression. "I heard from Paxton that Zach's been trying to apologise. She just won't listen."

Max snorted. "Can you blame her? He stood her up."

"He broke her heart," Victor added, shaking his head.

"And he has always been a asshole," I finished, shrugging. "He's lucky she didn't break his nose."

"Yet," Thea said, with a small smirk.

We all shared a look, quiet for a beat.

Then Adrian broke the silence.

"Ten bucks says she finally forgives him by the end of the year."

"Twenty says she never speaks to him again," Max shot back immediately.

I held up my hands. "I'm not betting on Lena. I value my life."

Thea nodded solemnly. "Smart."

As the night continued, the courtyard buzzed with more voices, more students being dragged in by their parents, and the low murmur of teacher voices echoing from inside the MPC. The barbecue sizzled in the background, someone played music off a portable speaker, and the sky above shifted from deep blue to scattered stars.

It was just another night at school, but somehow, it felt like something more. These were the small, quiet memories we'd look back on later and miss without even realising it.

And somewhere across the yard, Zach still trailed behind Lena.

Still trying.

Still hoping.

And we watched, amused and curious, waiting to see how it would all play out.