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The ache had been easy to ignore when she had just been doing other camp things: chores, pegasi riding, tending to the strawberry fields with her siblings; but when she lifted her bow, ready to practise, her wrist on her left hand burned .
“Fuck,” the arrow flew, less into the bullseye of the target than the grass not five feet from her.
No one had been around, no siblings, no Chiron leading his beginners’ archery class where someone would definitely get shot, no Chiron leading his advanced archery class where someone would definitely get shot except it would be on purpose, no campers, no satyrs, no dryads. No Mr D either, but that was to be expected.
She shook her wrist out experimentally. It was aching , now that she noticed it, a line of tension running itself down from her mid thumb to somewhere near the middle of her forearm. Some of the dusty old Aeolic poetry that Lee had put them all through, way back before any wars had them go through three counsellors in three years, had had stuff about “tongues of flame” running around the body but that was usually metaphorical. Kayla had never disliked the poetry itself, but Aeolic wasn’t a dialect she was particularly fond of. Doric was far more fun, and she did have a fondness for Epic, more than anything else. Lots of killing, lots of archery, lots of killing via archery… what wasn’t there to like?
But something was wrong with her wrist, and the next step of qualifiers for what would hopefully/eventually/undoubtedly let her end up in Team USA, and then with a gold medal and maybe a few world records under her belt to boot. Just like Dad. Her mortal father - not Apollo - although now that she thought about it, she wouldn’t put it past him, at least before Lester, to go in, win a few medals easily, and get some sweet glory even if it was unsportsmanlike to do so. Unsportsgodlike? That didn’t sound quite right but she wasn’t an expert on that sort of thing.
The tension in her wrist pulsed again and she swore violently.
“You know,” said a familiar voice. “I really should wash your mouth out with olive oil for that.”
She pulled the arrow out of the ground, and made sure the tip was still attached, putting the pressure on her legs as she bent down, instead of her non-dominant hand. It made her stumble as she got back up, but her dad didn’t laugh.
“Dad? What’s up?”
He pointed at the sun, as if to say “Me!”. Kayla followed his finger. Looking in the sun was never difficult or harmful to any child of Apollo, as far as she knew. Not the most important of powers, but at least there wouldn’t be any scrambling to pull on sunglasses or down shades while driving in the direction of the sun, she supposed.
She sighed, and he faltered a little, his appearance shifting away from his slightly glowing golden skin and blond wavy hair with gold running through it, to Lester-Apollo.
She wasn’t sure if this was an actual aspect of Apollo or not at this point, but sometimes at dinner, instead of “Apollo” or “Dad,” she’d heard, and said, “Lester”. Chiron had gone on a long lecture about metaphysics and the ways human - and demigod - worship changed or manipulated the ways the gods were , but she’d zoned out about five minutes in, and wasn’t prepared or curious enough to ask again.
“Is this like a quest thing?” she tried. “Because, I’d be happy to, I just need to go pack-”
“No, no,” he waved his hands around, a little violently. She wondered if she should step back. “Not a quest thing, don’t worry. Nothing like that. I’m here for you.”
“Like right now or emotionally?”
He blinked, “Both, I suppose, but your arm. You’re going for that qualifier, right?”
“Hopefully,” she didn’t want to admit it, and considering that it had happened barely minutes ago, hadn’t quite processed it, but she was concerned about her wrist. They were pretty important for archery, although not necessary, but she wasn’t sure she could get good at any other method soon enough, and besides that would probably be another event. “What’s wrong with it, do you know?”
“I’m the god of healing,” he looked offended, but he was still smiling. “Of course I know. It’s tendinopathy, De Quervain's to be exact. The tendon sheath,” he raised his hand to her arm. “May I?”
She nodded and took her bow into her other hand. His fingers ran down it, faintly glowing, and the ache disappeared, the tight string between her thumb, wrist and elbow dissolved, and she felt more awake than she had been in a while, all her limbs rejuvenated, the knots fading out of her muscles. “Thank you,” she hugged him for a quick second before standing back again.
“That’ll fix it for now,” he said, his skin glowing again. Not in the sense of a tan, but literally emitting light. “But it can come back. It’s a repetitive stress injury, so you need to take care from now on, okay? It can come back, as a chronic condition, and if you don’t treat it… well it can permanently affect your movement, burst the tendon sheath, nasty stuff all around.”
She shivered, “What do I do? I mean Will is good, but that’s not really his area.”
“No, you’re right.” He whipped out a notepad and pen from nowhere, and handed her the top sheet, with a name, address in Lawrence, which wasn’t too far away, and phone number. “Chiron can set up an appointment, and sort out insurance.”
“Who pays for that?” She wasn’t sure how insurance worked out since Darren was in Canada, but it wasn’t going to come cheap.
“I do, you’re my kid.”
“Nice, thanks,” she rolled out her wrist again, testing the mobility but it felt amazing. “Can I go back to practice or should I rest it?”
He patted her shoulder, “Take it easy. If it hurts at all, and I mean at all , dull ache, acute shooting pain, whatever, I want you to put down the bow and go and do something else. Okay?”
She sighed, “Okay.” It was a better deal than bursting her tendon sheath. She had no idea what that was even like, but it sounded awful.
Her dad glanced at the sky, where clouds were gathering suddenly around them although it was a sunny dad, “I need to go now, but take care of yourself. Do not forget that appointment,” he waggled his finger at her, “Good luck by the way, you’ll do great, I know it!” She was chucked under the chin and made sure to look away when he started to glow. He was gone by the time she looked back.
She sacrificed her fries to him at dinner, and had Chiron make her an appointment.
“Thanks for being there, dad.” It might have been because it was nearly the solstice, but the sun glowed a little brighter as it dipped below the horizon. She couldn’t stop smiling, even while she was trying to devour her brisket in record time, and it wasn’t just because she was going to get Apollo to pay for everything for the rest of her life.