Midnight Archery

Prompts: Harvest & Aim

Alexxus breathed in, breathed out, raised her bow, sighted her target, and let her arrow fly.
It thudded into the wood, directly in the center of the bullseye. She shot four more arrows after it in the span of a minute before slinging her bow over her shoulder and moving to inspect the target.
Just as she'd wanted, the five arrows formed a perfect pentagon, each one an equal distance from the center and its neighbor. Alexxus twisted them out of the wood and pressed her fingers to the surface to seal the holes left behind. Then she returned to her former position.
Normally, there were other people in the training rooms, other people dueling, drilling, or working on honing their powers. But that was during the day, mostly in the afternoon, not at 2 in the morning. No, at this hour she was the only one awake.
She wondered if anyone else remembered what day it was or if they'd forgotten. Maybe she was the only one who knew. Or maybe they did and were dealing with it in their own ways. After all, she doubted Bella could forget the anniversary of the day she learned her parents were dead.
Alexxus felt the tears prick her eyes and furiously unslung her bow, notching an arrow to the string and shooting without looking. She hated feeling powerless and this day never failed to remind her of how useless she was, how her parents had died to protect her, and how their sacrifice had almost been in vain with all the times she'd nearly died since returning.
Several more arrows landed, none of them even close to the bullseye. She was getting careless.
You need to be patient, Lex, her father's voice whispered. Be careful. If you pull too hard, you'll tear off the whole branch. We only need the berries.
How strange it was that her father's words about harvesting plants had so much relevance to practicing archery. Surely Andrew Begonia had never expected her to remember him telling her to be patient when she was training in order to /kill people./
She raised the bow again and fitted another arrow to the string. This time, she checked her stance and her hold, adjusting her legs and tilting her shoulders back. She rarely used this stance outside of training, the pace and fury of battle impossible to buy time in. But it gave her comfort and familiarity and soothed her frustration.
She looked down the shaft of the arrow, aiming directly at the center of her target. Look where you're going, Alexxus, she remembered her mother saying. Don't just aim when you're working. Aim for everything you want. You'll never get anything if you don't.
She released the string, watched the arrow streak toward the bullseye, watched it pierce into the center, and fell to her knees.
"Why didn't you run, Mama?" she sobbed. "Why didn't you break? How did you last so long?"
She slammed her fist into the floor, choked back her tears, and then let them fall. It had been so long, but this day every year never failed to rip her heart apart. No matter how many years it had been, no matter how many battles she fought, no matter how many times she swore to get better, and no matter how many people she helped, she could never forget standing outside of her old home, listening to the old man speak, and realizing that the people she cared about the most were gone and would never come back, that her parents had suffered so much for her, had given their lives to keep her secrets safe, and there was nothing she could do to pay them back.
Guilt is the worst, she heard Jatrina say. It tears you apart like nothing else can. You're always wondering if you could have done something more.
Alexxus tilted her head back and imagined herself back on Haspanic, sitting in the fields and feeling the rain roll down her face. It never rained as much during the harvest as during planting season, but the rarity made it that much better. She pretended the water on her cheeks was rain, that her parents were just behind and ready to scold her into working again, that her siblings were ahead of her, and that her friends were laughing beside her.
She stood up and drew another arrow. She didn't bother with standing in the right stance. The fletching brushed her cheek, her thumb pressed to the back, and her arm angled behind her ear. She held it steady until her muscles began to throb, then released.
Maybe she'd go to sleep soon.