Of Daggers and Bows - Skyrim

[one] broken arrow

    It was a cabin in the middle of the night. A lone cabin, hidden by the aging evergreen trees. A pond twinkled in the star light, its surface beckoning for a swim. The water winded between the vegetation, sometimes a few plants poking out of the surface of the water, and in this case a girl's head peering from out of the surface. She had gone up for breath and to check for unwanted persons.

   The girl was trying to hide from her father; she had aggravated him when she had hidden all of his mead, and she knew if he had caught sight of her he would beat her like he always did. She shuddered at the coldness of the water pooled around her, and also at the chill-down-your-spine thought of her father and his painful ways.

   She could remember a time when her father was a happy, bubbly man. He would sling her over his wide shoulders and run around the house, laughing and giggling. A time where her mom would always be stirring up a meat-smelling soup that would please her olfactory sense. She recalled her mother handing her a ladle and teaching her how to spoon the appetizing liquid into bowls and help her set the table.

   The young girl could also remember how life used to be when her brothers didn't shun her because of what she had done. They would guide her through shooting a bow, aiding her when her hands began to become raw and bleed from practicing too much. In fact, they taught her everything she knew about archery, which currently was quite a bit. Her older brothers were some of the best archers in all of the Falkreath hold.

   And they regretted it with all of their being; the girl had shot down an old woman on accident after mistaking her for a bear rising on its hind legs using the archery skills they had taught her. They blamed themselves for it, but not fully. The blame always fell to the little girl. As if living with the horror that you had taken the life of another human like you at the small age of eight wasn't bad enough.

   The head of braided brown hair disappeared back under the water as voices were audible from inside the cabin. A man shrugged on a large, furry coat as he stormed through the door of the cabin. The peace of the picturesque area was broken as he loudly slammed the door, but he didn't look like he cared one bit. A look of determination narrowed his misty grey eyes as he scanned his property for his daughter.

   The girl was terrified of the look. The angry expression was emblazoned in the back of her mind every second of her day. It made her feel trapped and monitored. Everything she did and thought was watched by her father, even if he wasn't physically there. She could imagine him glaring at her every time she would do something she thought would displease him.

   The man started advancing towards the pond, and the girl was running out of air and quickly. It was one of the choices that had undesired consequences on either side. If she went up, she certainly would get caught; her father was standing on the shore of the pond, trying to peer over the water only a few feet away from her.

   However, if she stayed underwater, she would drown and that would be that. Although life wasn't happiness and rainbows and archery practices with her brothers, she still wanted to live. She was a curious little girl; there wasn't a time, whether she was happy or angry, that there wasn't a question on her mind: why do my arms and legs move when I want them to? why does my hand leave behind an unearthly trail when I wave it around quickly?

   It was this curiosity that forced her to bring her head reluctantly above the water. She took a long gulp of air, her chest heaving from the withdrawal. The girl's father noticed his daughter right away, his fists clenching to his sides and his teeth grinding. After all, this was the third time she had ran away to hide in the pond.

   The reason his renegade daughter always escaped to the pond is because of his extreme dislike for water. While most people savored the feeling of water pounding on their backs and the calming sensation of being wet, he loathed every second he had to spend around the waves of the liquid. And that was exactly why his daughter hid in the pond; he wouldn't climb into the pond to get her if his life depended on it.