Chapter Text
Inhale.
Pull.
Hold.
Exhale.
Release.
Thwock.
Inhale.
Pull.
Hold.
Exhale.
Release.
Thwock.
If it wasn't for the burning in her muscles as she pulled the bow back again and again and again, she would have said it was as easy as breathing.
Maybe it still was.
Her abandoned veil was blowing in the gentle breeze, tangled in the wild grass of the nearly abandoned archery field. Her heels were sinking into the soft soil and her stockings were torn from her walk again and again and again to retrieve the arrows from the targets.
Pull.
Release.
Thwock.
The funerals were over now. All six coffins buried together in a cemetery she would expected to visit and maintain now. All six quiet boxes put away into the earth where they would never see sunlight again or hear music. All six taken away-
Her aunt hadn't been there. Her uncle looked worn.
She wanted to tell him that at least they still had someone.
Pull.
Release.
Thwock.
Her back hurt, her shoulders hurt, her fingers hurt and yet inside she still felt nothing.
She would have to go through their things now. Go through the house, pack up their rooms. She would have to make arrangements now, decide what to sell and what to keep. She would have to take Lucy's things and decide what to do with them. She would have to take Edmund's books and decide what to keep. She would have to go to Peter's apartment and empty it entirely. She would have to look at the collection of a life and decide how to distill it down.
Pull.
Release.
Thwock.
Inhale.
Hold.
Exhale.
She walked across the field again to yank her cheap arrows out of the target. She'd walked alone out of the funeral and walked to the nearest pawn store in her mourning clothes and found an old bow with a quiver of arrows and bought them without hearing the price. She'd walked to the nearest range she could find and the pain from her shoes did nothing to make her feel something deeper in. She walked without thinking and without planning and she walked until she notched the first arrow onto the string and pulled the bow to aim.
She turned to walk back to her mark and watched the wind finally pull her veil free and send it billowing away into the sky.
She watched it go with dry eyes and heard a horn blown in on the now stronger wind.
The sun was still high in the sky. The cars will still driving by in the distance. The world went on and trains still ran.
She slid the arrows back into the quiver she had slung over her back and started walking back across the field.
A horn sounded directly in her ear and she jumped, startled.
She spun around, wide-eyed.
The field was empty.
Inhale.
Hold.
Exhale.
The wind was blowing stronger and she could hear the horn once again, loud and sounding strong enough to rattle her very bones. She gripped her bow tighter, frozen in place, and then gasped as something hit her violently in the shoulder.
She spun with the force of the blow and saw a man running past her, blowing his large horn once again until turning to swing his greatsword up to block a blow from an enemy. There were two little boys running ahead behind him, stumbling over fallen branches and helping each other up as they tried to keep ahead of the flood of attackers.
The lawn of the archery field and the sounds of London had disappeared, and she was standing in a rustic forest surrounded by soldiers running in all directions. She twisted her head back and forth, taking in the horribly deformed creatures in black with a white handprint on their Armour and the disheveled man fighting to keep himself between the enemy and two children and she raised her bow without thinking more.
Pull, aim, release. Pull, aim, release. Pull, aim, release.
As easy as breathing she fell into a rhythm. As easy as breathing she kicked off her heels as she started to move across the new battlefield, knowing that the modern shoe was only going to hold her back. As easy as breathing, She moved her way through the attack to get to the strange man's side, checking on the children and looking for a route of safe retreat. Instinct came back to her with the smell on the wind, and her skirts flared almost familiarly as she ran and twisted and fought to get to her new comrade in arms.
Pull, aim, release. Pull, aim, release. Almost there - almost there!
Thud!
The huge black arrow sank deep into the man’s upper chest - too close to center mass for comfort - and she was spinning and sending one arrow, then two, then three in the direction of the giant who had already been reaching for a second black arrow for his massive bow. Two found their mark, one missed as he fell, and she was racing to the stranger’s side.
He was gritting his teeth, battle fever and desperation giving him the strength to override the shock, and he was moving again as she finally reached him.
She didn’t stop beside him, she ran to the children; but they were being carried off already, attackers grabbing them as they stopped running to try to fight for their protector. She loosed an arrow, and another, and her hand closed on empty air.
She wished for a knife, for a sword, for anything as the army of enemies suddenly seemed to sweep past them.
The man was stumbling, looking around frantically.
“....they were taken.” she said softly, suddenly breathless.
“Then all is lost,” he declared brokenly, collapsing to his knees.