Nessa Rootmark's Arc

Chapter 5 of 9

Nessa walked back to her tree house that evening with her bow still in hand. She hadn't given him an answer. The choice sat in her chest like a stone—heavy, solid, impossible to ignore. She climbed the rope ladder and set her bow against the wall. The banner appeared the next morning. Someone had hung it from the pavilion's central arch where the whole clan gathered for meals and announcements. The wood frame held pale fabric with dark letters: *The time has come to choose*. Nessa stopped at the tree line when she saw it. Her rival never made declarations. Someone else had done this—made his offer public before she'd even decided. Voices drifted from the pavilion. Her name. His name. The word *apprentice* repeated like a chant. She turned toward the practice grounds instead, but a group of younger archers blocked her path. One held a small carved figurine—an archer mid-stride, bow lowered, walking away from a target. "Is it true you're leaving?" the girl asked. Nessa stared at the figure. "I haven't decided anything." But the girl's face had already closed off. "My sister said you'd take the easy path. Learn from him instead of beat him." The group walked past without waiting for an answer. Nessa looked back at the pavilion, at the banner swaying in the morning wind. The clan had already decided what her choice meant. She walked to the pavilion and tore the banner down. The fabric ripped as she pulled it free from the arch. A dozen faces turned toward her—elders, competitors, children who'd watched her lose four times. "I haven't made a choice," she said. "When I do, it'll be mine. Not yours." She dropped the torn banner on the ground and walked to her practice target. The whispers followed her, but quieter now. She nocked an arrow and held it—longer than felt natural, longer than her instinct screamed to release. The shot landed true. She'd lost their easy assumptions about her. But she'd kept the choice itself.