Sasha

by Richard Young

  Sasha

  My father had always wanted a son. Instead, he got me.

  My mother died giving birth to me. My father, well, he must have loved her very much. He never remarried, nor had any other children. To this day, I think he must have been conflicted. On the one hand, I was the only reminder, the last remnant of his wife. On the other, I was the one who killed her.

  I never comprehended how much it must have torn him apart until after he died.

  As I said, I always felt he would have preferred a son. Still, I did my best to fulfill his expectations. At the age of six, I learned to draw a bow. At ten, I could put an arrow through the heart of a hare at ten paces. By twelve, I had graduated to a full-size recurve bow. My aim surpassed that of most of the men in our village.

  My father had always included me on his hunting trips. From them, I learned to travel quietly at all times, and silently when it was required. I learned all I needed to set up ambushes for unwary deer. My tracking skill was unmatched.

  Still, I disappointed him.

  But if I was a perpetual failure to my father, at least my uncle had nothing but praise for my abilities. His name was Kollen, and he was a constant companion on our hunting trips. His kind words, along with the harsh criticism of my father, were what drove me to excel. Sometimes, the man seemed more of a father to me than anyone else.

  For a time, I was very nearly happy with my life. There was never a shortage of food, even in the winters. The excess meat from our hunting trips we sold to the butcher, and the profits were more than enough to keep us clothed and sheltered. My father, while distant, was never cruel. Looking back on them now, those were quite possibly the best days of my life.

  I was twelve when my father died.

  My father, Kollen and I were deep in the Attarnon woods. I don't think they had a name. There was little point to naming woods that covered most of the country. We had camped in a small clearing a small way from the game trail. We had been watching it for three days, barely moving from sunup to sundown. There had been no sign of deer, and my uncle was getting impatient.

  "Nothing, Nell," he said. "Not so much as a rabbit has come down this trail. I think it's abandoned."

  "Mm," my father replied. "Perhaps, but there were fresh tracks when we got here. We just need to be patient."

  "What do you think, Sasha?" Kollen asked, flashing me a smile. I paused in gathering up my tent and blinked, surprised to be included in the conversation. After a moment, I returned the smile.

  "Actually," I said. "I agree with both of you. The tracks were fresh, no doubt. But from what I saw, they were inconsistent." I pondered for a moment. "The part of the trail we've been watching," I continued, "Well, it's difficult to make out through all the prints, but it seems as though these animals were in a great hurry. Tracks break away from the trail at odd and seemingly random locations, and from the distance between the tracks, they were moving fast. I think something spooked them good. And I doubt they'll be coming back this way any time soon."

  As I finished reciting my observations, I realized both men were staring at me. I blushed and bent back to gathering up the tent. "It's just what I think," I muttered.

  Kollen laughed. "I do imagine you're right!" he said. "Don't know how we missed that."

  "Why didn't you mention it earlier?" Yep. That was my father. Not a word of encouragement.

  I didn't answer.

  "Could have saved us a lot of time, Sasha," he continued. Not angry, never angry. Just disappointed.

  We finished cleaning up the camp in silence. Only when we were done did Kollen speak. "What do we do now?" he asked.

  "Unless anyone has any better ideas," my father said, "I say we follow the path for a ways. Even if we don't flush out any deer, they probably came back to the path at some point. When we start finding tracks again, we can decide what to do then." He slung a pack over his shoulder, along with his quiver. Kollen and I did the same.

  Kollen nodded. "Okay," he said. "You can drive any deer in the woods to the path, and Sash and I will-"

  "No," my father said flatly, his eyes hardening. I didn't understand at the time, but his tone left no room for argument.

  The two men glared at each other for a few moments.

  "Fine," Kollen said. "It might be better if we all split up anyway, and get one person on each side of the trail. So I'll go left, Sasha can go right, and you can take the path."

  My father hesitated. "No," he said finally, "Sasha goes left, I go right, you stay on the path."

  Kollen shrugged. "Fine with me." He winked at me when my father turned his back and I got the feeling that this is what he wanted all along. I couldn't help smiling back at him.

  And so we set out to find where the path once again started to show signs of use. This sectionof forest was different from most of the forests of Attarnon, as it was covered with low underbrush. A forest fire had passed through recently, and in its wake of destruction it left life it the form of new saplings.It made travel more difficult, which was why the deer had started using the path in the first place.

  Here and there I saw evidence of the flight of the deer. A broken branch, a track in the dirt.Something had scared them good, though I saw no evidence of it. As I walked, thoughts ran through my head, each more horrible - and unlikely - than the last. Was it a bear? A wolf? A Madman on the run from the Asylum? A... a dragon?

  I started to look more over my shoulder than at the ground. It wasn't long before I was jumping at every shift of the wind. No matter how much I tried to convince myself that there was nothing out here that could hurt me, my imagination was stronger. I clenched my bow and drew a fresh arrow. Just to be safe.

  A shout came floating through the forest, followed by a sickening gurgle. I was on my way towards it before I thought better, fitting the arrow to the string as I ran. I passed the path and glanced both ways. No sign of Kollen. Moving more carefully, I kept my bow half drawn as I crept through the brush.

  I nearly dropped the bow when I saw my father. He was lying on the ground, on his back. His face was pale, nearly white. I spent a few moments standing in shock before I noticed the arrows. One stuck out of his shoulder, the other was buried in his chest. I knew it was a killing shot. He was already dead.

  I fell to my knees by his body and put a hand to his face to make sure. His skin was already going cold. I don't know how long I knelt there. I refused to cry. I refused to be that weak. Instead, I examined the arrows for some evidence of the murderer. He was going to pay when I found him. I made that promise to myself and sealed it with my father's blood on my hand.

  My eyes were drawn to the fletching. I ran a finger across them. Owl feathers, bound to the shaft with thin cord, the nock perfectly carved out of the end. I blinked. The arrow - I knew that arrow. I wrapped my fingers around the shaft sticking out of my father's shoulder and pulled. I winced as the arrow came free, but what would he care? He didn't feel anything any more.

  The arrowhead was as I suspected. Metal, razor sharp with four blades meant to cut through flesh. I knew this arrow because I had made it.

  I looked up from the arrow to find Kollen standing over the body. I jumped in surprise and fell backwards. A look passed across his face that I couldn't make out. I held the arrow out towards him. "You did this?" I asked.

  "It - it was an accident. I thought he was a deer."

  "Twice?"

  His face shadowed, and I shrank away from his look. "All right," he said, "it wasn't an accident. I killed him." His face took on a hopeful expression. "But it was worth it," he continued. "He was the only thing keeping us apart."

  "What?" I stood as I said it, trembling, the arrow forgotten in my hand.

  "Now we can be together," he said, stepping over my father's body. "I want to be with you,
Sasha."

  For a moment I stood, not moving. The way he had said my name made me shudder in horror. "Get away from me!" I shouted at him. Now the tears were falling down my cheeks. Not one had been shed over my father's death, but this betrayal had pushed me over the edge.

  Kollen looked surprised for a moment, but he put on a smile and came closer. "I know you're hurt and confused right now," he said, "but we can make it through this. Together."

  I blinked through my tears. "No," I said, backing away. "No!"

  He followed. "Just come back to my house," he said. "We can figure things out there." I watched as his eyes drifted away from my face and down my body. He came closer and put a hand on my shoulder. "Sasha," he said. "Don't you trust me?"

  I only hesitated a moment. But there was only one thing I could do. I shouted "Don't touch me!", plunged the arrow into his outstretched arm, and ran. His cries of pain followed me for a moment before I lost myself in the trees.

  But I was twelve. I had just seen my father's dead body and been assaulted by my uncle. I was a mess, and I wasn't watching where I was going. My foot hit a root, and I came down hard on my other ankle. Pain shot up my leg and I crumpled to the ground, clutching my foot. I tried to stand, but my ankle wouldn't support my weight.

  Only a few moments later I heard a noise from the bush behind me. He was coming.

  There was nothing I could do. The brush didn't provide enough cover to hide,