The Thief

In the Beginning

Ever since I was young, I was in training, training for the day that I would infiltrate Castle Glacia with the Rebellion. My father used to work with the rebellion. Well, until he died. My father was the leader of the rebellion, the inspiration. My protector, mentor, and father was executed in public after his location was revealed to the Guard. My father was the best bowman from here to Esterwolf, which happens to be on the east coast of the continent. Our country lies on the westernmost coast opposite of Esterwolf. As soon as I was old enough to walk, I was trained in the art of archery. By the time I was five I could shoot with a bow and arrow. My father would take me out in front of the family willow tree and we would train for hours. My father always counseled me to always be careful and never get caught. He wouldn't let me stop until my technique was perfect.

"Another almost perfect shot! Your aim and focus is simply amazing, but it isn't good enough, not yet. Start again, Princess."

His words were always firm and strict, but love always seeped through. There were times I stood for hours under his supervision while practicing with my bow. Over and over again did I shoot my bow. Father made many targets for me to practice with. He started teaching me martial arts training and self-defense practice at age 7. I would march around to the back dutifully for my afternoon home-school lesson with my step-sister, Amicia Amberly. We learned combat, geography, politics, math, language, and many other subjects. After our schooling there was sparring and battle practice. Our father would show us the positions and techniques for the day, all the while correcting small details like hand positions and posture. After which, we would spar for another 3 hours. The only time we ever stopped was when neither of us could take down the other, then the spar was declared a tie. After sparring was swords and weapons practice.

By the evening it would be cool enough to do chores. I cleaned Zeus, the family horse's stall, and weeded the garden and farm. After that I would scrub all the floors and walls. When I was done with chores I made supper. Father usually returned home from hunting and we made a meat stew. Amicia would still be doing chores. She usually blamed me for not being able to finish and my step-mother. Like most nights, her laziness resulted in me receiving beating. Step-mother was living with us at the time, and beating me was her favorite pastime. I would just take the beatings without saying a word. Father usually intervened when he realized what was happening. They would argue for a few tense minutes.

After father let out his anger we ate dinner. Amicia grinning at my fresh injuries. Father would describe the long day he had out hunting. Father never talked about being with the Rebellion, step-mother didn't allow it. She was loyal to the Guard. She never told because being married bettered her status and gave her benefits.

It wasn't even 2 years after when my step-mother moved away. Father had a big fight over me as usual and she moved out. I remember lying awake that night listening. I celebrated when she left. Amicia chose to leave with Pricilla, her mother. That night father and I ate in silence. As I turned to leave the dining room father stopped me. "Nala! Wait right there, we need to talk." I halted and returned abruptly to the table:

"Yes, sir?" I pointed my eyes at the ground respectfully, and also fearfully. My father wanting to talk was not a good thing. Father's work with the Rebellion had recently gotten more dangerous and we were trying to lay low. Father looked stressed. I looked into his eyes and wrapped him in a hug.

"Nala, you've grown so big now. Today is your birthday, but it might be the worse night of your life. I got word from some of the Rebellion spies. Someone has given away my location and they are coming to get me tonight. I fear the worse will happen." I looked into his eyes startled. "Father! Then we must leave, now!" My father's face grew dark. "No! I don't want you living a life on the run. You must stay in your room tonight. You mustn't fight back. I wasn't to give you one last lesson: sometimes you have to hold back. There will be a time when you must be submissive and let others do what they want to you. Never forget." I began to cry. "Father, No! I can run away with you. We can go to the base in Esterwolf. We can find Trill and live with her. The guard will kill you. You can't let them take you! The Rebellion needs you! I need you!" I began to sob uncontrollably into his shirt. My father held onto me tightly. "Everything will happen as it should. You must stay in your room tonight. Do you understand?"

I nodded through the tears. "Yes, I understand my orders, sir."

I turned and ran from the kitchen up to the loft where my room was. It was a quaint little room. Not much to it, but at least it was mine. My small cot took most of the room. At the foot of the cot was a small chest with my few, precious belongings: my quiver and arrows, hair brush, two beautiful blue dresses made before by mother before she died, my soft and worn night clothes, and a blue jay feather necklace from my mother.

I dried my tears and pulled on my night clothes and placed my plain, brown work dress into the chest. I brushed out my hair in front of the mirror and continued to prepare to sleep. As I was preparing myself for bed, I tucked away my most prized possession: my bow. I gently placed it on the hooks on the wall behind me and stared at it for a long time, admiring its features.

The bow was the one my father gave me for my 5th birthday. It was the most beautiful long bow I had ever laid my eyes on. It was beautiful and feminine, as well as durable and lightweight. It had a glorious mahogany polished handle, with a delicate, but strong, birch body. Elaborate swirls were carved down the whole length of the body of the bow. The swirls depicted tiny birds and trees. Fancy roses and fairies danced as the light hit the bow. The bow was clearly expensive, though my father refused to tell the price. My guess was that if sold, the bow could pay for half of our farm in one swoop. I plucked the string 3 times for good luck. The drawstring was golden thread, embedded with actual gold flakes. It shimmered when plucked and whistled satisfactorily as an arrow was released.

I came back down the stairs to find Father reading. He was sitting on his cot. I sat next to him and laid my head in his lap. "Father, I can't just let you die. I can't. Please don't leave me." I felt something wet hit my cheek. I turned to see my father crying. "I must Nala. My sacrifice will help you someday. I love you. Go to sleep now. Don't ever lose sight of your goal. I'll be with you in your heart." I hugged him tightly one last time. I headed up the stairs once again. I knew that my father had a plan, and I couldn't disobey him.

I looked at my bow when I entered my room. I took one last glance at it and flopped down onto the cot ungracefully.

Physically and mentally exhausted from today's hard work and practice, I gazed at the ceiling. I thought of the terrible fate awaiting my father. I winced, thinking of the unbearable torture traitors endured. Tears streamed down my face as I prepared to face the worst night of my life. As drowsiness cast its spell on me, I saw my bow shimmer in the candle light. I fell into a deep and dark sleep as haunting dreams followed me everywhere I turned. Nightmares sprung from the night. Images of my father's execution flashed before my eyes. The images morphed and I envisioned me a few years in the future, working with the rebellion. We were crossing the river when the ambush happened. Soon men from the Guard surrounded us. We were easily outnumbered ten to one. I was taken by the arms and forced to the ground. The soldier on my left snapped my wrist and shoved my head down. As this happened my bow was forcibly removed from my body. I struggled against the guard to look up in time to see the spear enter my stomach. Pain erupted in my body and I abruptly woke up to see a stranger looking into my eyes. I looked down at my stomach to see his boot pinning my body to the cot. He placed his hand over my mouth and nose and my vision blurred. I couldn't breathe and began to panic. I stopped and thought of my training. Before I began to lose consciousness I heard his deep voice, soothingly say:

"You will be quiet if you value your life, little bird. You can thank your sister for the location of your father. She is a good little traitor."

The men in the room began to sneak out the door. My half-sister's face appeared above mine and she began to wrestle my arms to the cot. I had suspected that my half-sister would be a traitor to my father, the leader of the rebellion. I tried to sit up to no avail, but I was forced back down and heard:

"We have him!!! We've got who we came for." My sister tied my arms down to the cot and I squirmed furiously. I heard a few hushed exchanges of words about whether or not to kill me. They agreed to spare my life, and left. I heard screams of protest coming from outside the house, my father didn't fight much except yell. I tried to get up again. I recognized that I was unable to move and nightmares reclaimed my body once again.