Can A Clone Feel? (A She-Ra Fanfiction) (On Hiatus)

Bowstrings And Eczema

Mercy's POV

"You are here for one reason, because the Horde has saved you.  No princess came to your aid, and they left your home to suffer poverty." Shadow cooed to us as we stood, lined up in the middle of the hall. "You must do what you are told to survive here.  If you are obedient, you will be rewarded."

The cold metal of the muzzle radiated onto my lips as it sat secured on my face.  The things she was telling us were true.  No Princess came to our aid, we lived without modern medication and metal supplies.  But the Horde was the cause of this.  I contemplated this as we stood outside a pair of metal doors that opened into a training room.  There were punching bags hanging from the ceiling, mats people could spar on, and a large rack of various weapons.  My eyes flicked from daggers to bow-staffs, broad swords, maces, bows and arrows.

"You are to train with three various weapons, and your hand to hand combat will be improved upon." Shadow Weaver said, drifting into the room, motioning for us to follow.

"What's to be improved upon?" Senna asked. "We let our other side guide our motions and we do just fine." Shadow Weaver looked over her shoulder at us and scrutinized Senna.

"You are powerful, but sooner or later you'll face a trained professional in the field, one who may not be stronger than you, but smarter." Shadow Weaver said curtly, losing patience with Senna's sarcasm. "But that can be helped – We have spent years training soldiers for the Horde, and we still hold a position of power among the Princesses of the kingdoms of Etheria."

"Yet three of your soldiers were subdued by three teenagers in handcuffs." I didn't know I had spoken those words until Shadow Weaver glared unflappably at me, and I pressed my lips tighter together.

Shadow Weaver turned to the rack of weapons that reach the ends of the room. "Choose." She said, trying to remain serene and dismissed my backtalk.

With that I turned my gaze to the weapons.  An impressive expanse of training weapons, and weapons that hurt to look at for fear the sharp blades might cut us from afar.  I tried to remember the few self defense lessons I have had, taught by Nisha before my mother died.  I was not as fast as Nieta, or as tactical as Senna, I was instinctive and sloppy. I looked over the weapons, thinking hard of which three I should choose.  I squeezed my fists at my side, nails digging into the calloused skin of my palms.  I didn't want to think about choosing three of these weapons – three of these life ending weapons.

"You can't choose them just by looking at them, you have to – at least hold them." Shadow Weaver informed us from behind.  I was glad to see I wasn't the only one having trouble choosing.

I stepped forward tentatively, reaching toward the nearest defense – which happened to be a Ring Sword.  The circular shaped bladed ring was heavier than I had originally expected, but I tested my grip on the leather handles and I carefully moved the rings in the air.  These felt like they required a little more tact, and speed than I could give them.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Senna lifted a crossbow, her fingers clasping it and lifted the weapon to her face.  Nieta was taking tentative swipes with a dagger, and she grew more confidant in the strokes the more she made playful jabs at the air to her side.

I turned back to the racks and replaced the Rings blades with a short bow.  I ran my hand along the limb.  It was made of wood, of which wood I did not know, meaning it must have been from a more exotic part of Etheria.  It was dark, firm and slightly springy, smooth under my fingertips.  I carefully drew the bowstring back to my cheek, remembering the creak of the weapon as I drew it back, my elbow tilted upward slightly with my two fingers against my cheek.  I could smell the scent of its most recent user; salty sweat stung my nose and I slowly slackened my hold on the string and examined it.  There were small bits of dried skin clinging to the string, which pointed to the fact that the user had eczema.

I looked around for a moment, meeting Shadow Weaver's eyes and she gestured to a bench a few yards away that must have been for water breaks during training.  I walked over to it and set the bow on the bench beside a leather roll, stuffed with daggers, silver handles glinting in the florescent ceiling lights.

Senna stepped up beside me and set down a bow that was almost identical to my own, the leather handle was a lighter shade and the string was a bend of tan and black string.

"We have been here for almost forty-eight hours." Senna whispered, and I looked up at her, meeting her amber eyes, golden flecks shimmering, reflecting my one reflection.

"We can't count the hours anymore.  We have accepted that, we are here to stay, we will not see Valor again." I muttered and turned away, but Senna grabbed my arm and I stared at her.

"I want you to promise me, that if it comes down to saving me or Nieta, that you will save Nieta.  No mater what." Senna said and I read the fear in her eyes.  I could see the hundreds of scenarios racing through her head, and the fear stung at my brain and nose like salt water.

"We are not going to die here. I won't let that happen, and I know you won't either." I finally whispered and turned to see Nieta walking towards us with the crossbow in hand, her eyes inquiring of the intensity of our stares.

"I liked what you were thinking with the bows." Nieta said, holding up the crossbow. "Don't you wish you were as cool as me?" she sighed wistfully and twirled a lock of her blonde hair.

"Then I'd be less cool." I said with a playful smirk and walked backtowards the rack, smile faltering as I saw Shadow Weaver.  I ignored her piercing gaze and turned myeyes to the dozens of possibilities still left on the wall...