Lyza sat across from her brother at the table. Beside them, their camping lantern illuminated a florescent-white glow that pierced the darkness, casting light across the table and the ground like they had taken the moon for themselves.
Kval scratched the pen tip across the paper, chewing on the cap in his mouth just for the heck of the effect making him look smarter. The papers he worked on were a mess; he had three piles of targets going, and the wind that blew made it difficult to keep them still. Of course his sister helped but he was keeping his work a secret for now.
Slowly but surely one of the piles shrank to just a few sheets, and then there was only one left. He jotted down the numbers, which he put in several columns all over a page, and reached for one of the papers in the third stack. He quickly jotted several more numbers down, and then spent a few moments organizing all of the stacks.
All the while, his sister waited dutifully, if just a little impatiently.
"All right sis, ready to hear the news?"
Her foot banged gently against the metal support bar of the table; she was obviously kicking her feet with agitation. She nodded.
Kval smiled. "Well, hang on for just a little bit longer." He said, causing her to groan, "Well, I gotta tally up your score."
For another agonizing few minutes Lyza kicked her feet back and forth, every once in a while gently kicking her brother's shin. He chuckled each time, as if well aware she was suffering under her own anticipation. She balked as a moth tried to attack her little nose, and her brother told her to calm down.
"It scared me," she whimpered.
"You scared it, too," he replied, still looking at his numbers. "Look at him, he's all shivery."
"You didn't even see. He went right for me."
"Well why don't you two kiss and make up? I'm almost done."
"Ew, I don't wanna kiss a moth! Blegh!"
"Well then maybe I don't want to tell you how you did." He said with a very wide grin.
She pursed her lips and then stuck her tongue out at him. The moth took that as an invitation to perch upon it, and she did not like that one little bit.
"Aww, see, he likes you. You have a friend."
"Ugh. Fine. His name as Henry and he likes to be a pest, now will you tell me already?"
Henry alighted on the lantern and began flapping his wings, eager to hear as well. The girl did not like that he was sitting there; the shadow that he cast was very icky-looking.
Kval once again stacked his papers, and cleared his throat. "Four score and seven years ag—okay, okay." Just the look he got from his sister made his hair stand on end. "Don't make that face it makes your flower wilt."
Her eyebrows relaxed, showing off the little white mark above the bridge of her nose.
"So, anyway. You shot at twenty-eight poor little targets today."
"I did?" She asked with surprise.
"Yup. You were there all day, I'm not surprised. Anyway, as I was saying—since you're so antsy..."
Aardvark, her mind amended.
"With twelve arrows a target, that's a potential total of three-thousand three-hundred sixty points."
"That means that's how much I'd have if I hit all bull's-eyes?"
"Very good," he nodded proudly. "I tallied up your score, and if I have it right, you have two-thousand, seventy-two points."
Lyza blinked. "I—Is that good?"
"Well, it's hard to tell. So I took the liberty of doing some other statistics," he flipped down a piece of paper, scaring Henry a little, and turned it so it faced his sister. "Today, you fired three-hundred thirty-six arrows. As I went through your targets, I kept a note of how many arrows missed, how many scored one-to-four points, how many scored five-to-nine points, and how many bull's-eyes."
"twenty, eighty-four, two-hundred four, ... twenty-eight." She got a bit excited at the big number, but the small number of bull's-eyes put her back in dismay. But again, she asked, "Is this... good?"
"Well," Kval scooted the piece of paper closer so he could reach it. He took the pen and drew a circle. "Let's say this pie represents how many arrows you shot."
He began to segment the circle into four pieces. He sectioned off about two-thirds of it, and in the last third divided that into three pieces, one of them noticibly larger.
"So..." She scratched her head. "I only got twenty-eight bull's-eyes," she said, looking at the little sliver of a piece, larger only than the number of arrows that missed.
"Well, just looking at this pie, how do you think you did?"
She glanced at it more, and then shook her head. "I guess I need to practice more..."
Her brother nodded. "Well, yeah, I mean you should always practice. But how good do you think you are?"
"Not so good," she was quick to reply.
He folded his arms. "Why do you say that?"
She sighed. "Cuz. Look." She pointed at the two slices of misses and bull's-eyes juxtaposed, "I almost have just as many misses as I do bull's-eyes. That kinda cancels out, doesn't it?"
Kval tapped the pen on the table. "Do me a favor. Cover those little pieces up."
"...Okay," she said, as she covered that section of the pie with her hand. "Now what?"
"Now look at the pie. What do you see?"
She shrugged. "A big piece." The tone of her voice was getting very droll, either from weariness or lost enthusiasm.
Kval sighed. "Right, but what does the bigger piece mean?"
"I don't know," she said, shrugging with frustration. "More arrows?"
"Right!" Her brother said excitedly, causing Henry to flee from his perch. He took one of the targes. "And where are those arrows hitting?"
Lyza sighed and pointed at the yellow-and-blue inner circles. "I don't know, right there, somewhere?"
"Right."
"RIght." She repeated, but in a way that meant she didn't really care. "It's all around the Bull's-eye."
Kval let the target fall. He tapped his finger on it for a moment, thinking. He looked up at his sister, and she glanced away a little. "Can I give you my opinion?"
She shrugged. "Sure," she replied haggardly.
"I think you're not good at this—"
"Gee, thanks—"
"I think you're amazing at it."
They sat quietly for a moment, listening to the cricket symphony amidst the trees nearby. Henry got the courage to sit on the table by the lamp.
"Of course you'd say that." Lyza stated, looking away from the light. "You're my big brother."
"Hear me out," he said, leaning back. "I think you're basing it off of how many Bull's-eyes you get, and I thought you'd see something else when I showed you the pie but maybe I can help you see." He grabbed one of her targets, one that was from the pervious day and fairly void of pips, laying it out between them.
"Have you ever heard the expression 'Shoot for the moon; because even if you miss, you'll land amongst the stars'?"
The little sister shook her head.
"Here is the moon," he said, pointing to the red dot at the center. "And here are the stars," he drew a big, squiggly line all around between the five and the red dot. "You fired three-hundred thirty-six arrows, and two-hundred four landed somewhere in this area. Right?"
The little sister nodded.
"Well, what if I told you something like this. You fired twelve arrows at each target, right?"
Again, she nodded, but with her eyes slanting away.
"Well, of those twelve arrows, seven of them landed in the stars. And three of them landed somewhere out here," he pointed to the black, "And one missed, which will happen. So. How many arrows did you fire at a target?"
"Twelve."
"And if seven of them hit here, and three of them hit here, and one of them missed, that means..."
"That...the last one hit the Bull's-eye?"
He smiled. "Bull's-eye."
"But...that's not true," she retorted. "Cuz some targets I didn't hit the middle at all."
"You're looking at it too narrow again." He admonished, shaking his head. "Tell ya what. I'll make a bet. Tomorrow, you're going to get as many Bull's-eyes as targets you fire at, if not more. You'll also get more arrows in the yellow than anywhere else."
She sighed. "...What happens if you or I win?"
"Good question." He started gathering the papers. "If I win, you have to think really hard about whether or not you're good at archery without thinking about Bull's-eyes. And if I lose..." He thought for a bit. "I'll bake you gigantic cake when we get home."
Lyza thought for a moment, watching Henry flutter about the lamp. He was persistent in whatever he was doing, fluttering about and crashing into it. She giggled at him, and then turned to her brother. "All right, it's a deal." She extended her hand.
"One condition: you have to do your best. You can't purposefully do badly."
"I won't," she promised, showing her hand to insure she wasn't crossing her fingers.
"Ain't crossin' no toes either?"
With a huff she leaned back and plopped her bare feet on his knees.
"Okay," he said, and shook her hand. "It's a deal then."
"Neat," she said with a yawn, and then stifled it for fear of insects thinking it an invitation. "I'm sleepy. Can we go to bed, now?"
"Sure," Kval agreed, reaching for the lantern. He switched it off. "Say g'night Harry."
"Henry," his sister corrected.
"Hector."
"Fart-head," she muttered.
In the darkness they traveled back to their tent.
* * *
Kval breathed quietly. Outside the crickets had picked up, died down, picked back up, and died back down again.
He'd already spent two hours trying to sleep. Just lying on his cot with his eyes closed, trying to find new positions that were comfortable. But it wasn't the cot that bothered him. It wasn't the wind that was picking up outside that blew up from underneath the floorboards and made a ruckus with the tent-flaps. It wasn't the temperature drop that he felt over the course of the night.
It was his sister.
He didn't explain it right at all. She had a blindfold over her eyes and all he did was tie the knot tighter. It didn't help that he wasn't there to watch her all day. He had spent the whole morning there, and saw how she progressed. There were not many people, at least at that time, so she got to go in every round. Mrs. Kiminy would walk behind the kids and give them tips and suggestions.
The ewe would always talk to his sister though. More often than the others. Because his sister was Mrs. Kiminy's 'assistant', Lyza would be the one to demonstrate everything in place of the ewe doing it herself.
In truth, the number three-hundred thirty-six did not count how many times she demonstrated a shot. She had shot enough arrows to equate a small infantry.
Whereas most of the kids were there just to try it out and have fun with other activities, his sister stayed even after they had lunch with Mrs. Kiminy and Mr. Carlyon. He was not there for the afternoon, not all of it anyway. He would have loved to be but Lyza insisted he go off and do other things, so he did. But he was not gone for more than a few hours, and when he got back his sister was still on the range, bow in hand, arrows inching closer and closer to the center of the target.
Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow, she'll understand. She's practiced for a whole day, non-stop; work at something for ten-thousand hours and eventually—
"Over here."
Kval's eyes shot open.
"Where are we?"
"Sh!"
"Sorry, it's just... dark..."
"Of course it is, we're in the woods, stupid."
The cot didn't make a noise as Kval slowly slipped his way out of it. In just a few seconds, he was outside, the cold air biting at his bare chest and mostly-bare legs. He slipped on his moccasins that were sitting outside the tent.
He didn't need a flashlight. In fact, he could see one in the trees.
"Hurry up, it's freezing out here."
"Quit bitching, dude. Trust me, this is worth it."
"Does it hurt?"
"What are you, a pussy? I said stop bitching."
"Can I help you, boys?"
"Holy shit!"
"Dude, run!"
The boy with the flashlight took off too quick for Kval to react, but the other boy immediately tripped and landed on the duff. Kval reached down to help the boy up, but the kid scrambled to his feet and whipped out his own flashlight, hitting Kval in the eyes.
"Hey, now," the rabbit said as the boy tried to run. But he had a tight grip on the kid's wrist, and he'd be surprised if the boy was any older than thirteen. "Why don't you just calm down."
"Get off me! Let go! I'll scream rape!"
The boy's wrist slipped out of Kval's hand, and the kid fell onto the ground again. The flashlight fell, and Kval seized it. The kid didn't make a move as Kval played the flashlight over his face.
He was a koala joey. His nose was the most distinguishing feature about him, other than that he looked like an average boy. Kval had to retract what he thought earlier, though. The boy didn't look any older than twelve.
"So," Kval said, "Are you the bitchy one?"
"I'm not no bitch," the boy snapped.
"Why don't you get up. Or do I need to get someone from the medical station?"
"I'm fine," the boy said gruffly, lifting himself up.
"Good." The rabbit lowered the light so that it was on the ground. "Wanna tell me what you're doing out here in the middle of the night?"
The boy didn't say anything.
"Just going on a night-time hike, then?"
Still no response.
His senses tingling, Kval played the flashlight about the ground. Eventually, about two feet from them, he saw something peculiar. The light sluiced on something, like it just hit a very reflective rock.
The boy darted toward it, but Kval was closer, and much faster. He closed his fist around it, feeling the plastic squish around the air inside the bag.
"Give that back!"
"I don't think this is something you should have."
"It's mine!"
Kval pulled upward and eventually his height overcame the boy's reach. The kid tried to hang on him for a few seconds but he rolled his hand and wriggled it from the boy's grasp. The koala stumbled, but landed on his feet.
"You should have said it was your friend's," Kval muttered, turning the light on.
"... Why?" The kid asked.
"Cuz then you wouldn't get in trouble for possession."
Kval examined the baggy in his hand. The familiar plant crumbs residing inside. But something looked a bit off about it. Fitting the light into his armpit, Kval tore the baggy open, and dumped a bit of the contents on his hand. He looked at it carefully. Between his thumb and forefinger he massaged the stuff, almost tenderly. He brought it to his nose, and carefully sniffed it.
"Nevermind."
"Nevermind what? Give back my shit or I'll scream."
"Fine, take it." Kval said, tossing the baggy back. "Not like it'll do you any good anyway."
"You're talking shit, man."
"Can I ask you something?" Kval spoke rhetorically, proffering the flashlight.
The boy took it immediately, but didn't move. After a moment he said, "What."
"That's your first score, isn't it?"
"N—no," the boy stated.
"So then you know what you're talking about. Take a look at that, does it look normal to you?"
The boy narrowed his eyes. "You're talkin' shit."
"That's not weed, kid." The rabbit sat bluntly.
"...I don't believe you," the boy said. "You're just trying to trick me."
"You got the paper and a light?"
The koala paused for a second, thinking. After a few moments, he slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out some crinkled paper, a roach, and a lighter.
Kval took two sheets of the paper and placed them on the ground, so that they looked like a 'V'.
"You're...gonna show me how to make a joint?"
"I'm not teaching you anything," the rabbit replied. "Besides, you're not smoking this." He took a couple pinches of the leaf inside the baggy and sprinkled it on the paper. With an eerily practiced thumb, he pinched and rolled it up, then spat on it to seal. It was a crude trembler, but it would do.
As he reached for the lighter and held it next to the joint between them, the flame trembled in his hand. A part of him began to get very nervous; a big part of him. It's okay, he said, I'm just proving a joi— "Fffff," he sucked in through his teeth, the fire stinging his thumb. He flicked it again, the spark catching. I'm just puffing a poi— "Dammit," Kval hissed as his thumb was singed again. "What kind of crap paper is this?"
The boy just watched as the half-naked rabbit, kneeling on one knee, kept fiddling with the lighter. He wasn't even near the joint, couldn't he tell? Third time was the charm though, as the paper lit. The lighter fell away, and the air began to smell of burning.
The boy watched for a few moments as the orange ember licked its way down the paper, letting off black smoke. The joint was held upright, and every once in a while a fleeing ball of light hopped off and faded away into ash.
"So."
"Hang on," the rabbit said, squishing the joint a little. "You smell that?"
The boy sniffed the air. He sniffed again. Hesitating for just a second, he stepped closer to the joint and held his nose a few inches above the flame. He sniffed again.
"Smell what?" He finally asked.
"Exactly."
The rabbit let the joint fall to the ground and stomped on it, digging his heel into the dirt. He took a clump of sand and dumped it on top of the dud, then added a second clump. "Don't want another incident like yesterday," he commented.
"So..." the boy said, a little disappointedly, "That...wasn't real?"
"Nope," the rabbit replied. "Happened to me, too. Same thing. Got tricked into buying a fake bag of just grass and dirt. That was a long time ago, though." The rabbit stood upright, tossing the bag back to the boy. "I'd just dump it. Hope you didn't waste too much of your allowance on nothing."
"I..." The boy looked at the baggy and crinkled it a little in his palm. "I...took it—"
"Oh, well. You took it from the wrong place, then." The rabbit knelt down again. "But really, kiddo, take it from me. You don't want to start using that stuff. I did for a while, and it wasn't fun. I'm clean now, and couldn't be happier."
"I took it..." The kid said, his voice a little shaky. "I took it...up... up the... b—"
The boy was no older than twelve. There was no shame in crying at his age, still. And Kval's arms would not discriminate against any who shed a tear and dove into them of their own volition.
But Kval couldn't hold himself. He couldn't seek comfort in anything when the gravity of what the boy meant fell on him. For a moment his heart wished the contents of the bag were real.
At least then the boy wouldn't have traded his innocence for the crab-grass in a dealer's back-yard.
"What's your name?" Kval asked softly, transcending his emotions.
"D...Danny," the boy whispered.
"Danny." He gently stroked the boy's back. "I'm so sorry."
Not for the first time in his life, Kval fell into a trance. As the boy in his arms drained tears, he could see into the child's—into Danny's future.
There were many, many paths. Danny was still young. But to Kval he became a troubled child, wrought with anger and feelings of oppression, who could only express himself through violence and terror. He became a frightened young man, questioning purpose and finding no answer or meaning of himself; lonely and sad, that future blacked abruptly. He became a self-punishing youth, seeking comfort in corruption of himself and those around him, actively hunting to be abused and mistreated.
But amidst all of these, he came across a tiny path barely wider than the breadth of a small foot. It was surrounded by sheer walls that emptied into darkness. Foot-over-foot, he carefully followed this path. A path he'd walked before.
As he progressed the trail, Danny started out terrified and confused. But over distance, over time, the path began to widen as he found support from friends and from family. The path ascended as he began to cope with himself and rise above the past.
But Kval arrived at a cloudy point. A part of the path that he could not see. As he walked into the haze, eager to understand it, he only found himself in the present, with Danny nearly dry of tears.
"Danny," Kval said, stroking the boy's back. "It's all right."
"I wanna go back to my campsite..." He said, his voice shaky.
"I'll walk you back. Where is it?"
"Just..." he sniffled. "Just down the road..."
"You're Becky's son, aren't you?"
The question appeared of its own accord. Even he had to realize it had come from his mouth.
"Are you... are you gonna tell my mom...?"
Kval stood, Danny clinging to him by the neck. "I think...that's up to you." He replied. "I think you should tell your mom." He began to walk, carrying Danny.
"But she'll...she'll get mad at me."
"Maybe at first, but," the rabbit replied "The person that made you do what you did...if you don't tell your mom, or somebody... no one will do anything. You're a good kid, Danny, I know you are. No one will blame you for what happened."
The boy breathed heavily as the rabbit's footsteps crunched on the small rocks of the road. "Could you...help me...tell her...?"
"Of course, Danny, I can do that for you."
Danny slid off of the rabbit and stood on his own wobbly legs.
"This is your site," he said, handing the koala his flashlight. "Which tent is yours? I'll walk you there."
"I'm...I'm fine on my own..."
Kval knelt down to be level with the boy. "My name is Kev," he told Danny. "When you're ready to tell your mom, let me know okay?"
Danny nodded, and turned to walk away. "G...good night, mister."
"Good night, Danny. And hey;"
Danny looked back.
"If you need me, to talk or anything, you know where I am. And I'll be at the archery range tomorrow, too. Got it?"
He nodded.
Watching the boy as he made his way to his tent, Kval stood. When the flashlight disappeared, he made his way back to his own campsite, sleep now bearing down upon him. As he walked the cold, dark trail, he wondered what was behind the fog he saw, and why could he not see it?
Was it because his imagination had lost the metaphor?
Back in his tent, he started for his cot, but then paused. He stood still for quite a while, listening to the sounds inside the tent. It comforted him to hear the breathing as he held his lungs. The soft, quiet breathing behind him.
He went to the entrance of the tent, and lifted the flap of the door. A shaft of light sifted through, and in the moonglow he could see her face.
The face of a child no older than twelve.
