Free The Archer's Daughter by Melissa MacKinnon Page B

spotted him. Graceful, muscular, and donning the largest antler rack she’d ever seen, The buck was absolutely perfect. She raised her bow as Owen ducked down beside her. Twigs and forest litter crunched beneath his boots, spurring Cate to flash him a look of pure evil. “Could you be any louder, giant?” she scolded, lightly punching him in the arm.
    Thankfully, the deer only raised his head at the sound. Soon it was back to grazing, its tail swishing about with ease. She pulled an arrow from her quiver, running her fingers over the goose feather fletches. Cate loaded the bow. Standing to her full height seamlessly, she pulled back the bowstring, aimed, and then released. The arrow whipped through the open field, imbedding in the chest of the deer just behind the shoulder. It kicked its hind legs and jumped a few twisting leaps forward before teetering to the side and collapsing in a heap.
    Her heart burst with jubilation. Cate flashed Owen a prideful grin. “Perfect shot.” He nodded. Cate slung the bow across her chest, lightly jogging to where the beast fell. She pulled out a knife hidden within the depths of her borrowed quiver, thankful many of the archers in her village knew of her father’s little trick. It was a small knife but got the job done. Owen retrieved the horse while Cate gutted the buck, and both worked together to sling the carcass over the saddle.
    After washing up in a nearby stream, Cate steered them toward her home of Hawkhurst. The talk was light and strangely consisted mostly of food and which cut of meat each wanted to sample first. Cate asked Owen if he knew what true hunger even felt like, poking fun at his current state. A hearty laugh was followed by a long silence. Cate didn’t want to broach the subject of her predicament — they tread on uneasy waters as it was. The journey home was not a long one. However, Owen slowed them down immensely. He stumbled along the path and winded easily. Cate feared his injury didn’t fare well.
    As the sun painted the sky, an array of pink and yellow hues across a smear of veiled clouds, Hawkhurst came into view. Nestled in a tiny valley, it sat motionless and guarded with shutters closed against the evening chill. Only ghostly reminders of the days’ transgressions remained. Cate’s speed increased slightly, the thought of sleeping in her own home at the front of her thoughts. Owen lagged behind, quite openly hesitant.
    “Come on, now. ’Tis all right. They won’t harm you.” Cate urged him onward, leading the horse ahead. “I will protect you.” She smirked.
    “Perhaps not, but you seem quite sure they would eat the horse without hesitation.” Owen crossed his arms over his chest.
    “His name is Dinner.” Cate mimicked his stance, raising an eyebrow. “The son of an earl, eh? Scared of a few old ladies and children?” She scoffed. “Never have I heard something so preposterous.” Cate laughed, shaking her head at the thought.
    “You mock me for a valid concern?”
    “No, I’m laughing at you.”
    Owen sighed. “All right, Cate. We shall play this your way, but if one person so much as raises a blade at me…”
    “You need a physician.” She spoke over him, exasperated.
    “As do you. I’m no healer.”
    “Then we shall suffer his ministrations side by side… and absent of all blades.” Cate clucked her tongue at Dinner and urged the horse onward.
    Cate brought Owen into the village by way of the narrow main road. Furrowed by wagon wheels on each side, she kept to the soft grass strip separating the deep, muddy lines. Sharply veering to the right, she changed directions and followed a narrow path through a plowed field. The horse snorted, tossing his head when Cate pulled him to a halt outside of Wallace’s small, modest home. “Wait here,” she told Owen. “I must speak with Wallace and inform him you are here. He will see to your safety while you are here.”
    “Brilliant…” Owen muttered, a scowl curling his