Marked

Chapter Eleven

Charles thrust a bow into Rachel's hands.

The string notch dug into her palm and she tried her best not to drop it.

After much insisting that he teach them his way of fighting, they'd finally agreed and had joined him in the same clearing she had punched Hector in.

Glancing down at the bow that she had no idea what to do with, she noticed a set of initials engraved at the bottom.

DJ.

She stroked the initials with her fingertip and looked at Charles.

"Who's DJ?" She asked.

Charles eyes snapped onto her so quick she had to fight back the urge to flinch.

"That's none of yer business, girly and don't you ever ask about her again!" The old man turned away from her. His shoulders worked up and down with each breath he took, and it was clear she had hit a nerve somewhere, but she wasn't sure why. He thrust his bony finger towards the door.

"Alls you get yer butts outside. I'm going to teach you how to kill some poachers; now do it quick before I change me mind."

Outside, it had gone dark.

Charles' many contraptions hung from tree branches, glinting with slivers of moonlight. The dirt around them had been bleached white by the moon giving the woods a ghostly pallor. The clearing, and the area surrounding the cabin were a minefield of dangerous traps.

Strangely, though, it gave Rachel a sweet high- made her feel a thrill at knowing that if anyone came looking for them, they'd have to get through the traps first.

Once clear of the cabin, Rachel's group stood in a small clearing while Charles fidgeted with a blanket-full of weapons he had brought from within his treasure chest. He laid them all out, revealing knifes, swords, and even a rusted pitchfork.

"C'mere, you, the pouty one." Charles said, motioning at Simone.

Hesitantly, Simone looked at Rachel.

Rachel shrugged.

"Well c'mon. I'm not getting any younger here."

Simone strode up to Charles, her hands stuffed into her pants.

Without preamble, Charles hand snaked out. Simone gave a small shriek and tried to jump out of the way, but his hand connected with her face.

"What the hell?" she cried, hand clasped to her reddening cheek.

Charles grinned and went at her again. Except a tall shadow intercepted him, catching his arching arm as it came down.

"We're not doing that." Hector said.

He was nearly two feet taller than Charles and broad shouldered.

The old man grimaced.

"Well how else is girlie supposed to learn?"

"Definitely not by getting slapped by someone stronger than her."

"Alright, tough guy. Let's go on to the next lesson. Rule number one when dealing with poachers my laddys it that you better never let them see ya coming."

"Why is that rule number one?" Rachel asked.

Beside her, Simone glared at Charles. She wore the clothes Charles had given them--a pair of beige pants and a flannel shirt that made her look shapeless and boyish. Rachel assumed she probably didn't look any better but at least she couldn't look at herself.

"Welp you see girly, these poachers they be having some interestin' little gadgets."

Rachel was beginning to see that Charles loved theatrics and every time he was about to teach them something new about poachers, he had to make a show out of it.