Stopping Yesterday

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Scotta

Scotta and August went to the armory, where the practice fencing swords, the kind that are really dull with a metal ball on the tip, were kept. Inside was an impressive array of swords, bows and arrows, daggers, throwing knives, razor-edged boomerangs, and other various weapons Scotta had no name for, as well as armor lined the cool, metal-lined room.

Scotta caught sight of some black armor, that encased the wearer from the shoulders to the waist. But it had...scales?

"Are those scales?" She asked. August followed her stare to the armor, then nodded.

"Dragon scales. They're virtually impenitratable. Very flexible armor," he said, nodding in approval. He lifted it from it's rack and slipping it on. Then he turned to a similar piece of armor, only this one was made of pure white feathers. Making it seem far more vulnerable than August's dragon scale armor.

"Feathers?" Scotta said in disbelief. Again, he nodded.

"Pegasus feathers over hardened leather," he explained, lifting it from it's place on the wall. "Pegasus feathers are almost bullet-proof, and deffinitely blade and arrow proof." That reassured Scotta a bit. "Every warrior has their own signature armour and weapon," he went on. "That's your armour now; we'll see about a weapon." He handed her one and led the way out into the arena.

"Don't flail your sword around, and aim for where I'm going to be, not where I am," August advised. "Other than that, you'll learn from your mistakes and good luck."

"Glad these aren't real swords," Scotta muttered. August just laughed.

* * *

It turned out the sword was not Scotta's weapon. August sighed and took the sword from her. Their fingers brushed, and Scotta's heart skidded. August stiffened and turned away from her

"Come on," he muttered. "Might as well see if you can shoot an arrow without nearly gouging someone's eye out." She blushed as she followed him to the armory.

August handed her a silver bow and sheathe of arrows. The bow had an acid green line spiraling loosly around the bow.

"It's beautiful," Scotta whispered, fingering it.

"Mmm," August grunted. "Not made for decoration. It's made to be deadly." She followed him out to the arena again, and this time he led her to the far side of the arena where some targets were set up.

"Here, I'll show you how to hold it." August took the bow and arranged her left had on the bow, and her right hand on an arrow. He helped he load it, and putting his hands over hers, guided the arrow back, aimed it, and let it fly. It landed a little to the left of the bull's eye. "Good," he said, stepping back. "Now you try to do it without me."

Scotta pulled the string tight and closed her eyes. She imagined the arrow flying straight to the bull's eye. She held this image in her mind as she let go. Thwap! She opened her eyes to see the arrow quivering where it stuck--in the middle. She turned to August, who quickly shut his mouth and regained his composure.

"Uh," he said intelligently. "How'd you do that?"

"One of my many, many talents," Scotta reaplied, spinning the bow between her fingers. "I have the imaginative power. I just imagined it sticking in the middle, and what do you know?" She gestured toward the arrow.

"Can you do it without using your power?" August asked. Scotta shrugged, turned, and shot. It stuck a little to the side of the first arrow.

"Guess so," Scotta replied. August grinned.

"Well, then, you'll have a surprise for tonight."

A/N: What do you think the surprise is? It'll be related to this chapter.