Ranger's Daughter

Thwack!

   The arrow cuts through the air.

Thunk!

   As it hits the poor tree I have designated for a target.

   I always hit what I aim at. Always.

   I have to practice before dawn every morning, several miles from our property so no one will no what I’m up to.  There’s a reason I have to practice so often, so hard, at archery. I’m Claire. Treaty. Will Treaty is my father. He’s the best Ranger that ever was in my opinion. Well, after Halt of course. But we’ll get to that later.

    My brother wants to be a knight like Uncle Horace, who’s not actually related to us but is my father’s best friend. Everyone is okay with that. Knighthood is an honorable and heroic career choice. He even has the right build for it; tall, strong, and athletic. The personality too with his natural nobility and tough attitude.

    I, on the other hand, am as much of an outcast as anyone.

    I’m a girl who wants to be a Ranger. Not that anyone knows that much yet. Everyone who knows me or my parents always assumed I would be a Courier like my mom. No way would I be a chef or law writer. I can’t cook worth a copper piece and I don’t like talking much. There are no other options for women. Yet.

   Rangers are spies for our kingdom under the rule of Queen Cassandra and King Horace. Or Aunt Cassie and Uncle Horace, as we call them. They’re good friends with my parents. Anyway, Rangers have to be experts in not being seen, moving silently, horse riding, and obviously archery. They have to be experts in other things too, but there are too many. Rangers know military tactics like the back of their hands and can get together a army on a few days notice. They are truly the reason Araluen is the safest country in all the world. But the thing about Rangers is that they are all men. Every last one of them. With any luck at all, that won’t be true for long.

                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Today is my Picking day, along with my brother. We’re twins, and tradition says that children choose their careers on their sixteenth birthday. A master will either allow you to be their apprentice, or you are denied and have to find another master. Everyone knows my brother will go to Horace, the Battlemaster, and be confirmed as an apprentice. No one has asked me yet. Compared to my decent, if silly, looking brother, who would? I’m below-average sized like my father with my mother Alyss’s long blond hair and dark eyes that are all my own. My brother has my same features, but somehow manages to make them look good. I have very plain looks and nobody in their right mind would call me pretty. My brother is the perfect son everyone wished they had. I’m the child no one notices. But that’s alright with me. If I’m to make a good Ranger, my job will to be someone that can’t be seen or recognized. Its like I was born for the job.

   As I walk through the woods on my way to Halt and Pauline’s cottage, I stop by the Battleschool to see my brother be accepted. No surprises there. Mom and dad were there to watch of course. I knew that they had wanted to come to my Picking as well but I had talked them out of it, saying I wasn’t sure what I wanted to be. They bought it. If nothing else can be said about me, I am an excellent liar. I’m an extremely honest person most of the time, but my parents always said I was born with a silver tongue. I silently crept past the many viewers of my brother’s Picking.

   It takes me half and hour to get to Halt’s cottage. Technically I should have asked my parents permission, but I don’t think they would have understood. I walk up to the house and raise my hand to knock on the door, though I’m shaking.

   Halt answers before I get the chance to knock. He’s fairly old now, but as sharp as ever according to my dad.

   “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you participating in your Picking” Halt says gruffly. I clear my throat, trying to get rid of the jitters. Halt always sees right through everyone. But I wasn’t born with a way of lying for nothing.

   “Well, I wanted to talk to you about that,” I say, my confidence drifting away with every word. “I want to um mph..”

   “What? Girl, stop mumbling and out with it!” Halt knows how to get me to say what I’m thinking. He’s known me since birth and knew my parents before me. He even knew my father’s father. Halt’s ancient. Not that you’d ever hear anyone voice that opinion.

   “I want to be a Ranger!” I say. Sublty is not my strong point

   “You want… a.. huh..?” For the first time since I’ve known him, Halt is    speechless. I repeat myself, stronger this time. Halt sits down and stares at me. “A Ranger,” he mumbles to himself. Then he gets his wits about him and puts on his poker face. “You’re a girl,”

    “Yes, thank you, I have realized that,” I say sarcastically. A little humor never hurt anyone.

    “Girls can’t be Rangers,”

    “Come outside with me and tell me why they can’t,” I walk outside, not bothering to see if he is following me. I know him too well; Rangers are naturally curious. The best ones are even more so. And Halt is the greatest. I get my bow and arrow from where I stashed them in the woods. Halt looks at me with a surprised expression. Or rather, what passes for a surprised expression with Halt. He rarely shows any emotion.

   “Pick a target,” I say, almost bored, like I’ve done this before. I haven’t.

   “That little knot in the middle of that big oak,” he says in the same tone. The knot he’s referring to is a good thirty feet away, nowhere near the edges of my ability. I almost feel insulted. But oh well. I notch my arrow perfectly from the hours of watching my father and his fellow Rangers practice, plus the endless dawns of making my own bow and arrow sets and trying to shoot them. I sight and release almost simultaneously and my arrow thumps as it hits the knot, dead center.

   Halt whistles softly.

   “That was… impressive. I didn’t know your father taught you the arrow,”

   “ He didn’t. I taught myself. I’ve been watching all of you practice for years. I sneak out every morning before any of my family wakes up to practice. I made my bow and arrows all from scratch too,” I say truthfully.

    “Watching…practice… sneaking every morning… from scratch… What?!” Halt said, exasperated. He kept mumbling to himself for a few minutes. I let him mull it over, keeping my mouth shut. Just waiting patiently. He took a good long look at me. I looked right back at him. Anything else would be seen as a weakness. Then slowly, he started nodding.