The Troubled Life of Isabel Martin

      “Breathe in as you pull back,” I hear my father’s voice in my head. “And out as you let go.” These instructions echo through my head as I wait for a deer to come near.  I’ve been waiting for dinner to walk by for the past four hours.  My legs have fallen asleep and are painful to move.  Now I almost wish John were out here instead of me.  John --my younger brother by only a year-- had thrown a fit when I was told to go out and find dinner.

      “That’s not fair, women aren't allowed to go outside without company,” he had yelled.

       “She is the best shot of all of us, That’s why,” my father had countered.

       A deer walks out of the brush and I notch and pull back the arrow.  Just as I’m about to let go, something spooks the deer and it runs away, white tail in the air.  I wish I could scream, let out all of my frustration for letting the deer get away but I can’t because it would scare the other deer away and I would have to go home empty handed.  I relax my bow and arrow in frustration and sit and wait, It’s almost dark and the family will expect me home soon.  I hear leaves crunch behind me and I hold my breath, praying it’s another deer.

           It walks under me and I contemplate shooting it anyway.  But it walks out from under me and to the deer feeder.  I thank the Gods and notch my arrow, breathe in and pull back.  The deer looks up and directly at me.  I stop breathing and will it to look away and start eating.  It looks away and I take the chance, I release the arrow and the deer panics and starts to run away but before it gets five yards away it collapses dead.

         I calmly stand up, and throw my bow and arrows to the ground below me.  I lower myself down the three handles and jump down the rest of the way.  I walk calmly to the deer my knife out of my anklet, ready to end its suffering if it’s still alive.  It didn’t it just stares at me it’s eyes blank.  I breathe in and pull out the arrow stuck in its side and toss it away but close so I can clean it off later, we’re to poor to be wasteful.  I start gutting the deer, I hate this part but I can’t carry everything with me and I’m about done when something hits me sending my head into a stump, I black out.  

***

“But you must marry Richard, how else are we going to get out of this poor rut?” My mother asks her hands on her hips, insisting I must marry Richard.  Richard is rich compared to us and I guess you could say he has taken an interest in me.  He’s already asked for my hand to my father twice.  He’s been courting me for three months sending flowers, chocolates and stuffed bunnies.  He’s even sent a lyrist every crescent moon to woo me.

“Who have you been sent by my dear lyrist?” I ask every time I hear him start to tune his Lyre.

“By Richard Anderson My Lady.” He always responds and bows.

“Go ahead my dear lyrist, woo me again on this wonderful night.” He starts to play and sing every song he ever knows and I fall asleep at my window listening to his songs of love.

“The problem is mother,” I say, coming back to reality, “ I don’t love Richard, I love Leo.  I could never love Richard as much as I love Leo.” 

 “You will learn to love him,” my mother says, turning on me like an angered dog, “like I did your father.  No more of this you will marry Richard,” she says, furious that I would even think of following my heart.  I give up trying to reason with her; I will have no luck and it will only put me on her bad side even more.

***

My body hurts--burns with a need I have yet to understand.  I climb down the tree that has lived next to our house since before I can remember.  I follow the hand and foot holds that I’ve grooved into the tree.  But that doesn’t help me tonight, I fall down like a newborn foal on it’s new legs.  Once I’ve finally gotten down (thanks to slipping and falling on my rear) I run, run away from the house as fast as I can.  Deep in the cold, dark woods my mind starts to calm, but not my heart; it races like a flat-footed lizard.  My panic starts to grow as my limbs crawl, like there are bugs under my skin, making my stomach turn with unease.  My legs refuse to hold me up any longer and I fall onto my hands and knees.  Pain explodes and spreads as bones break and reform.  I try to block out the pain but it doesn’t help; it only brings it to my attention more.  I can’t help shedding tears; the pain is too much to keep a handle on.  Finally the pain starts to fade and I open my eyes, my hands and feet have become white, furry paws.  I look behind me and I have a black furry body with a white tipped tail.  Oh Gods, what have I gotten myself into?