The New Druid
Chapter 3: A Post Guards Duty

Cathal stood at the top of the lookout looking out at the moon hovering over the ocean. Una felt a rock drop in her stomach knowing there was nowhere she could hide. She hung her head and approached the post, hoping he could feel her regret and let it go this one time. “The moon is awfully bright tonight.” He said, not looking back towards her. She said nothing and waited like a dog with her tail between her legs, at the bottom of the tower's steps. “I can still see some of the arrows you never fetched.”

“I’ll go get them right--”

“Una,” her father commanded, she froze. He turned to her and flared his nose to audibly sniff the air, he could smell the spilled drink. There would be no fooling him as to where she had been.

“Father I just thought--”

“Have you been drinking?”

“No father. I--”

He scowled and crossed his arms, his face shrouded in the dark of night, but Una stood exposed in the pale moonlight. “Then why do you smell like a drunk?”

“I... I overheard some shepherds today. They were talking about the grand elm and a curse. I--”

“What have I told you about superstition,” Cathal said with a voice colder than before.

“The post guards Duty is to protect the people, not their beliefs.” Una recited.

“A curse is not our concern. Leave the prayers to the people and the docks to us.” Cathal said.

“It is our concern. The people... without wool we cannot trade. Let alone survive the winter. If something can be done--”

“I’ve heard enough,” Cathal said as he kicked open the hatch.

“I’m not finished father.” Una protested, surprised by her own defiance. Cathal froze in place.

“Are you speaking back to me?” Cathal asked with clenched teeth.

“Father. The druid may be able to lift the curse.”

“Druid? What kind of nonsense have you got yourself on, The man in the tree is a myth.” Cathal moved to the weapons rack and lifted Una’s bow. He flicked his wrist and sent the bow rolling down the hill. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Fath--”

“I’ve had enough of this. Una, fetch your bow and arrows, do not come home till you have all thirty.” He opened the hatch to signal the conversation was over.

Una bit her lip and stormed around the tower to head down the beaten path. The hatch slammed behind her and she flinched. This was the maddest she had seen her father, and she shivered remembering his silhouette looming over her. Her chest felt tight and tears burned at her eyes. She replayed the scene over and over. There was one thing stood out. Her father said ‘the man in the tree is a myth.’ She turned around to the giant tree standing triumphantly over the village. A corner of her lip raised as an inspiration like none she had ever felt before raced through her veins. She raced down the hill to where her bow had landed, the soft baas of sleeping sheep scattered across the meadow as night had muffled the sound of life. She pulled six arrows out of the first target, and located two more misses short of the marker. There wouldn’t be enough time to search for arrows at the second and third target, Cathal would grow suspicious if she were gone too long, and he would try to stop her. She needed a head start, a big one.

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