The Stick

One Step at a Time

-*~*~*~*~*~*-

"It is kind of strange that you would come to be for training," Stan smiles as he hands me the bow that would have been gifted to me on my sixteenth birthday, but two years late isn't that bad. "Not that I can't train you, but that's never really been my job."

"Well, I can figure out magic on my own," I test the bow in my hold. "At least, I've had to over the years since my mother was killed. Nature being my specialty, and even more so healing."

"They let you practice magic in Kupa Keep?"

"Under supervision, yes," I nod. "Not that I always listened to that rule. Besides, my father was going to entrust me with learning dark magic when he thought I was old enough. I think that I can handle sneaking off to practice a few spells. It helps when you have friends that don't want you to feel more trapped."

"Your mother hated that idea of you practicing dark magic," he shakes his head. "There aren't many dark magic users left."

"I have a prophecy hanging over my head, Stan. My father wanted to know if I could fulfill that prophecy."

"Kyle has been looking into that, and he doesn't think you should risk diving into dark magic any more than you have without certainty that it is talking about now."

"I can't believe you don't refer to him by his title," I teasingly gasp, giving his shoulder a shove. "Since when did the two of you become close enough for that?"

"Since you were kidnapped," he sighs as sadness flashes across his face. "The two of us were closer to you than anyone else, and we were able to come together to figure out life without you. That kind of spending time together will grow a friendship. He became my best friend in your absence."

I softly smile, "That means you talk about me a lot, right? Bonded over a common girl?"

"There was nothing else to talk about in the beginning. Well, you and how to rebuild what was destroyed. Even all these years later, probably because all these years later, he still cares deeply for you."

"I'll always care deeply for him, since he did become the king."

"Your father declared it before he died, but you were long gone by that point."

"Oh," I feel my stomach drop to my toes. "He had to grow up so fast then."

He shrugs, "Kyle was made to be king, if you believe in that kind of thing. He filled the role perfectly, but it has always felt like someone was missing by his side."

I sadly smile, "It feels good to be back then."

"Come on," he nods over to the archery targets. "I might not know much about archery, seeing as I am a duel sword wielder, but I still know what to do."

I chuckle, "I wondered how you got such strong arms while I was away."

He chuckles, "Well, I had to become better than everyone else somehow. I had to prove to myself that when we got you back that I would be worthy of being your knight. That meant learning to fight with a sword in each hand. Now, you do know how to put an arrow on the bow, right?"

"I did have some training as a child, sir," I stick my tongue out at him. "How about you stand back and I show you how it's done?"

For the next hour I expertly send arrow after arrow down at the targets. Each time I run out, Stan is running down to retrieve them. I'm trying all kinds of angles, running as I shot, and whatever else to push myself. I feel like a little kid again as my dad stands proudly to the side watching me exceed all expectations.