Chapter 68 — Under the Quiet Tree
1279 Words
The arrow flew cleanly through the air.
A sharp whistle cut through the stillness of the training field before the shaft buried itself deep into the center of the wooden target.
Linda blinked.
For a moment she simply stared at the target across the clearing.
Then realization hit her.
“I did it.”
Her voice carried both surprise and excitement.
She lowered the heavy bow slowly, almost suspicious of it, as if the weapon might suddenly reveal it had helped her by accident.
But the arrow remained perfectly lodged in the center ring.
Not the first time she had hit it that morning.
But something about this shot felt different.
Easy.
Natural.
Like the bow had become part of her arm rather than something she had to control.
Linda laughed softly and bounced lightly on her feet, unable to hide her satisfaction.
“I did it!”
Stanton stood a few steps behind her, leaning casually against a tree trunk.
He watched her with a quiet smile that softened the usually hard lines of his face.
“You’ve been doing it for the last twenty minutes.”
“That one was different.”
She pulled another arrow from the quiver on her back and turned the bow in her hands thoughtfully.
“It felt… right.”
Stanton pushed himself away from the tree and walked toward the target.
He studied the arrows already embedded there.
Most of them clustered tightly together in the center.
“Because you stopped thinking about it.”
Linda frowned slightly.
“What do you mean?”
Stanton reached up and pulled the arrows free from the wood.
“When you first used this bow,” he said, handing them back to her, “you treated it like a weapon from your old pack.”
“And it’s not?”
“No.”
He nodded toward the massive curved weapon.
“That bow was built for lone hunters.”
Linda rolled her shoulders, testing the weight again.
“It’s heavier.”
“Yes.”
“But stronger.”
She nodded slowly.
The bow felt different now.
Not foreign.
Familiar.
Like it belonged to her.
Linda stepped back into position, drew the string again, and fired.
The arrow struck just beside the previous mark.
She grinned.
Stanton chuckled.
“Now you’re showing off.”
Linda lowered the bow.
“Maybe.”
She rested it against the tree.
“Your turn.”
Stanton raised an eyebrow.
“With a bow?”
“No.”
She bent down and picked up two wooden training swords from the grass.
One she tossed to him.
The other she kept.
Stanton caught the blade easily.
“Again?”
“You’re the one who keeps telling me practice matters.”
He sighed dramatically.
“You’re starting to sound like a teacher.”
Linda dropped into a ready stance.
“Stop talking.”
Stanton smirked.
“Fine.”
They moved at the same time.
The wooden blades clashed with a sharp crack.
Linda pressed forward quickly, her movements faster than they had been only days earlier.
Stanton blocked easily.
Their swords collided again.
And again.
The rhythm of the fight grew faster.
Linda circled him.
Struck.
Retreated.
Struck again.
Stanton parried each attack smoothly.
He wasn’t fighting her at full strength.
Not even close.
But he wasn’t letting her win either.
The fight stretched on.
Minutes passed.
Sweat dampened Linda’s hair as she pushed harder, testing angles and timing.
Stanton stepped back suddenly.
Linda lunged.
Their swords met—
Then Stanton twisted his wrist.
Linda’s blade slid past his guard—
And she slammed the wooden sword into his stomach.
The impact made a dull thud.
Both of them froze.
Linda blinked.
Then she grinned triumphantly.
“I hit you!”
Stanton looked down at the spot where the sword had struck.
Then he nodded approvingly.
“You did.”
Linda stepped back, breathing hard.
“You didn’t expect that.”
“No,” Stanton admitted.
“You’re getting faster.”
He rolled his shoulders.
“And more unpredictable.”
Linda lowered the sword.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
He leaned the training blade against the tree.
Linda did the same.
The quiet forest around them had grown peaceful again.
Birds moved between branches.
Wind rustled the leaves softly overhead.
After a moment they both sat down beneath the wide roots of the old oak tree that stood at the edge of the clearing.
Linda leaned back against the trunk, catching her breath.
Stanton sat beside her.
For a while neither of them spoke.
Then Stanton glanced sideways at her.
“What do you remember about your parents?”
Linda blinked slightly.
The question caught her off guard.
She looked down at her hands.
“Not much.”
Stanton waited.
“My father trained me,” she said slowly.
“Always away from the others.”
She smiled faintly.
“He said hunters should learn to rely on themselves first.”
“That sounds familiar.”
Linda nudged him lightly.
“My mother was different.”
“How?”
“She was always on missions.”
Linda’s voice softened slightly.
“But when she came back…”
Her smile grew warmer.
“…the whole house felt different.”
Stanton watched her quietly.
“She laughed a lot.”
Linda’s eyes drifted toward the trees as if she could see the memory there.
“She would bring strange things back from her travels. Little gifts. Stories.”
Stanton nodded slowly.
“Female hunters often had stronger instincts than men.”
Linda raised an eyebrow.
“You’re saying my mother was better than my father?”
Stanton shrugged.
“In many ways.”
Linda laughed softly.
“I think my father would have agreed.”
She leaned her head back against the bark.
“The last day I remember with them…”
Her voice faded for a moment.
Stanton waited patiently.
“We ate cake.”
“Cake?”
Linda smiled slightly.
“In the morning.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
She shook her head.
“My mother said it was because life was too short to wait for celebrations.”
Stanton’s expression softened.
Linda continued quietly.
“After breakfast they left.”
“They told me to stay with their friend.”
“And then…”
She looked down again.
“They never came back.”
Silence settled between them.
“The pack sent me to the barracks after that,” Linda said.
“With the other children.”
“That’s where I met Bailey.”
“And Silas.”
Stanton reached out and took her hand gently.
Linda looked at him.
He lifted her hand and pressed a soft kiss against her fingers.
“You are not responsible for Bailey’s death.”
Her eyes flickered.
“You tried to save Silas.”
Linda nodded slowly.
“But I should have listened to them.”
“To Bailey and Silas.”
“When they warned me about Morgan.”
Stanton smiled slightly.
“And what do you think they would say about me?”
Linda laughed suddenly.
“Oh, I know exactly what they would say.”
“What?”
“That you are the most stubborn and arrogant wolf they ever met.”
Stanton chuckled.
“That sounds accurate.”
Linda leaned closer and kissed his cheek quickly.
Then she rested her head gently on his shoulder.
For a while they sat together under the tree.
The quiet forest wrapped around them like a shield.
And for the first time in a long while—
Linda felt something close to peace.
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