Faith by Viola Rivard Page B

Two of the wood rods that made up the back of the chair were missing and one of the legs had been gnawed bare by some sort of animal. The whole thing looked like a stray wind could send it flying apart.
    “Hello, Lark.”
    Taylor tried to keep her irritation out of her voice as Lark set the chair down by the fireplace. Lark had been distant for days and as much as Taylor hated to admit it, she missed her friend.
    As soon as she positioned the chair, Lark embraced Taylor in one of her too-tight hugs. Taylor missed those, too.
    Pulling back, Lark said, “I’m sorry for being mad.”
    “It’s okay.”
    Lark shook her head. “No, it’s not. You were right. We shouldn’t have gone chasing after Holly and Tulip. Part of me was mad at you for not siding with me, but most of me was mad at myself.”
    Lark stepped back to take a seat. Taylor bit her lip in apprehension as Lark slumped over onto the rocking chair. The chair gave an ominous creak , but remarkably, it didn’t give way.
    “I always used to follow orders and play by the rules,” Lark continued. “And then you came here. Sure, you usually listen to Alder and Hale, but you don’t let people boss you around or tell you what to do. You live away from the den, you can get your own food, and you can do whatever you want with your time.”
    Taylor was stunned by Lark’s admission. With the guards and not being allowed to go into the woods, she felt more stifled than ever. It was bizarre to hear Lark’s impression of her life.
    “I’m not jealous,” Lark said. “But I do envy you and I wish I could be more like you.” Her chin dropped. “More than anything, I hate being weak and useless.”
    Finding her voice, Taylor said, “You’re not useless.” She crouched down to clasp Lark’s hands in her own. “You’re my friend. And, hey, next year you’re going to be an aunt. I’m sure you’ll have lots of things to teach the baby.”
    Grinning, Lark swiped at her eyes with the back of a hand. “You’re right. I could teach her how to climb trees and find truffles.”
    Taylor gave her a weak smile. “I was thinking more like walking and talking, but um, we can work up to those things.”
    Unexpectedly, Lark reached out to pull her into a second embrace. The chair groaned.
    “I’m so excited for the baby,” Lark said. “Would you like help picking out names?”
    “I’m going to give it a few months before I start thinking about those sorts of things. I don’t even feel all that pregnant right now.”
    Lark nodded in understanding. “Okay. Would you like to try out the chair?”
    “Maybe later. Wanna come take a bath with me?”
    “Well, there is one more thing I brought from the cave.”
    Taylor forced another smile. “Oh?”
    ***
    “Do you have any idea how to use this?”
    Lark notched an arrow onto the bow. “How hard could it be?”
    Aiming at a nearby oak, she loosed the arrow. It went soaring all of two feet before falling to the ground.
    Taylor remembered the bow from her very first day at Halcyon, when Lark, who had then been a vaguely endearing stranger, had taken her to the junk-filled cabin. It had been one of the few things in the mountain of crap that had stood out to Taylor, probably because she’d once had an interest in archery.
    “People train for years to be good with these. Here, stand like this.”
    Standing behind Lark, Taylor nudged her friend’s feet apart and adjusted her posture. She helped Lark to notch a second arrow.
    “You’ll want to aim with your dominant eye,” Taylor instructed.
    “Which one’s my dominant eye?”
    “Whichever you can judge distance best from. It’s different for everyone.”
    After four more tries, Lark managed to hit the tree. Taylor, who was only marginally better, managed to hit the tree almost every time, but was unable to land an arrow on the makeshift target they’d set up.
    The hour flew by and the sun had sunk behind Halcyon Mountain by the time they made it to the lake.