The Necronomicon

Chapter Twenty Four

"We haven't done it for a while," He said cheekily, tilting his head to the right slightly, and she sighed, smiling.

The clearing smelled like a fresh meadow — Meredith thought she could even see a butterfly flittering up ahead. The trees boughs blocked the sunlight from streaming in, but the flowers she was trampling on were facing the sky, taking in the rays.

"I can hit the tree now — we don't need to do it!" She complained, and he cocked an eyebrow.

"Prove it, then."

Meredith considered the surroundings — the tree, leaking mud all over the ground and its roots, Frederick, before her, the bow clutched like a lifeline in his hand. The arrows spilled beneath his feet. His smirk. She grimaced.

They took turns shooting for the better part of an hour — Meredith managed to hit the tree with nearly every shot. Every time Frederick's hand smoothed her arms into position or adjusted her stance she got better, and began hitting the target with more velocity and strength. "I reckon you might be able to pierce rabbit skin," Frederick remarked, bringing her arm up higher so it was much steadier. She didn't respond, instead shooting another arrow with precision.

The sun dipped lower in the sky — it was a little past noon. Frederick grinned at her, taking her hand. "I think that's enough for today," He grinned, and Meredith smiled at him.

"Are you going hunting now?" Meredith asked, observing Frederick's stature, the way he gripped the weapon they'd just been using, and his mouth — his teeth were gritted.

"We are, yes," He replied, smiling easily. She spluttered at the remark, and, laughing, he took one of her hands in his. "Come on, Meredith! It'll be fun."

"Will it?" Meredith asked doubtfully, wrinkling her nose as she pulled at the hem of her shirt. Today's outfit was particularly grotesque; tomorrow she was going to wear one of her dresses, despite the clothes Dmitri had given them for their journey.

He laughed noisily, setting the bow down on the ground once again to pull her into his chest. Frederick rested his chin on top of Meredith's head, and hugged her to him warmly. "You'll be fine," He said, kissing the parting of her hair gently, and she grinned into his chest. Then he released her, and grabbed the bow again. "Come on! Let's go!" He called, squeezing her hand, and she sighed, giving in.

It had only been a few minutes, and already Meredith could feel her eyes closing. She couldn't see any wildlife — all she could hear was Frederick's words and the sound of her own feet pounding the ground. All her eyes could catch were row after row after row of leafy green trees, and dirt trials underfoot. Frederick knew the woods well — like he knew the back of his own hand — and he frequently took her along a new path or helped her avoid some poison ivy or nettles.

"For someone who prides herself on being ladylike so much, you walk extremely loudly," Frederick mused. "It's scaring all the animals away."

"I thought your regime accepted everyone," Meredith retorted, disgruntled, slightly offended at his comment. "Even women who walk loudly." She examined her feet carefully while he crept forward. She wasn't wearing Eleanor's old hiking shoes today; she had green high heels on instead.

Meredith could hear the chuckle in his voice. "Good point. To that, I can only say: we're not in the regime right now, Meredith. We're hunting."

"Haven't caught anything yet," Meredith grumbled, and Frederick let out a low, rumbling laugh.

"I think we know what to thank for that," He said, gesturing to her shoes. Frederick stepped forward, scanning the forest floor with hunger gleaming in his chocolate brown eyes. A hand went to his bow, steadying it — then he let the hand fall.