“Uncle Aldo!” Kana called as soon as she spotted him by the village gate, a bundle of straw over one shoulder. “I need your help—my bowstring snapped.”

  Aldo turned, saw the worn-out practice bow in her hands, and gave her a curious look. He took it gently, running a finger along the frayed string.

  “You were pulling too hard,” he said after a moment. “Tried to shoot from a longer range, didn’t you?”

  Kana scratched the back of her head. “Yeah… sorry.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. No one uses this old thing anymore anyway. It’s meant for short-distance training, not full draws.”

  Kana looked hopeful. “Can you fix it?”

  Aldo sighed. “I’m decent at firing arrows, not making bows. You’d need a proper bowmaker for that—and we don’t have one here. Closest shop is in town.”

  Kana’s shoulders sagged. “Figures.”

  “You might be in luck, though,” he added. “I heard the chief’s headed to town tomorrow to deliver the harvest. If you ask nicely, you might be able to tag along.”

  Her eyes lit up, then dimmed just as fast. “Do you know how much a repair would cost?”

  “For something like this? Maybe five copper coins,” Aldo said. “But honestly, if you’ve got the chance, get a better one. There’s a beginner’s longbow made from auroch horn. Good curve, strong pull, built to survive clumsy hands. Ten silver coins.”

  Kana blinked. “Ten silver? Where am I supposed to find that?”

  Aldo shrugged, grinning. “Ask your mom. Or stick with the practice bow and hope you don’t break it again.”

  Kana groaned, slumping against the gatepost.

  ….

  Kana found the village chief near the grain storehouse, barking orders at a pair of teenagers struggling to load sacks onto a cart.

  She waited until there was a pause, then stepped forward. “Chief, can I come with the convoy to town tomorrow? I need to get my bow repaired.”

  The chief glanced at her, eyes narrowing beneath his thick brows. “Your first time to town, isn’t it?”

  Kana nodded.

  “Then Boris goes with you.”

  Kana flinched. “Do I have to?”

  The chief crossed his arms. “He knows the town like his own boots. I won’t have you getting lost over a bowstring. Get your mother’s permission and meet us at first light.”

  Kana bit back a protest and nodded instead. “Understood.”

  ……

  Her mother arrived well after dusk, hair tied back in a loose braid, hands still smelling of ink and old paper.

  “Mom!” Kana dashed forward, wrapping her arms around her before she’d even taken off her boots.

  Her mother blinked in surprise. “What’s the matter, dear?”

  “Nothing,” Kana said, too quickly. Then she pulled back and held up the broken bow. “Well… maybe something.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Her mother looked it over. “Snapped the string, huh?”

  “Uncle Aldo says I need something sturdier. He recommended a longbow made from auroch horn. Ten silver coins. I’m going to buy it tomorrow in town, I’ll tag along with the chief.”

  Her mother arched an eyebrow. “Ten?”

  Kana’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”

  There was a moment’s pause. Then, without a word, her mother walked over to the small wooden table and set down a pouch.

  “Ten silver coins. You’ll find it here in the morning.”

  Kana stared blankly. “Really?”

  Her mother smiled. “Aldo mentioned your technique. Said you’ve got the instincts for it. And if your class leans toward Archery, it’s better to invest early.”

  Kana’s eyes shimmered. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “I’ve been tutoring more kids lately. I can afford a little splurge for my daughter.” She brushed a stray lock from Kana’s forehead. “Just don’t get into trouble in town.”

  Kana groaned. “That part ruins everything. I’m not.”

  ……

  Kana pocketed the small pouch of silver with care, fingers brushing the rough cloth like it was something sacred. Her mother had kept her promise. Ten gleaming coins—enough to buy her first real weapon.

  She thought about stopping by Suri’s house, but word had already reached her ears: Suri’s father had come home late last night. That usually meant family time. After all, her father goes to their home once every few months.

  That left her with Boris.

  Three carriages rumbled beyond the village gates at dawn—two filled with neatly stacked bundles of grain, the last carrying a handful of workers and the village's few armed escorts riding in their own horses. Kana and Boris squeezed into the back of the third cart, seated across from each other on worn benches. Their feet dangled just above sacks of dried vegetables.

  The road ahead twisted gently through the plains, morning mist clinging to the soil. The horses trotted steadily, hooves muffled against the packed earth. It was a peaceful route, safe on most days unless a storm had scattered the wildlife or a stray monster had wandered too far from its nest.

  Boris leaned forward, elbows on his knees, a confident grin on his face. “I’ll take you to the best bowmaker in town. You’re lucky I’m here. You owe me one.”

  Kana raised an eyebrow. “And I suppose I’m meant to repay this heroic act?”

  “Of course,” Boris said mockingly.

  Kana snorted. “Right, I’ll let you win next time.”

  Boris leaned back with a smug look. “You always say that after losing. You never won”

  From across the cart, one of the older workers chuckled. Another elbowed his friend. “Hear that?”

  Laughter rippled through the group. Kana tried not to smile, but failed. Everyone in the village knew the two were constantly trying to outdo each other—on the track, at the training yard, even over who could carry more firewood. Boris almost always won in strength or stamina. But Kana never lost an argument.

  ……..

  It was Kana’s first time seeing a town—a real town.

  Compared to their humble village, this place looked like it belonged to another world. The first thing she noticed was the wall: not crude logs tied together with rope, but stone—thick, heavy, and permanent. A fortress in its own right. The kind of wall that said, We’ve stood for centuries, and we’re not falling anytime soon.

  The carriage came to a halt at the gates. Two guards in full armor approached, their boots echoing on the stone as they began their inspection. Steel gleamed under the morning sun, polished and sharp—not like the patchwork gear of the village patrols..

  Kana leaned to the side, peering between crates.

  Beyond the gates, the town unfolded like a picture from a storybook. Stone-paved roads stretched ahead, busy with life. Merchants called from wooden stalls. Children darted through alleyways. Men and women hauled crates, guided donkeys, bargained over fruit, shouted about fish. She caught glimpses of buildings three, even four stories tall—stacked like puzzles, balconies and signs jutting from every corner.

  It was chaotic, loud, and alive.

  And yet... she wasn’t impressed.

  She knew she should be. She could feel the awe in the other villagers—probably first time workers beside her craning their necks, muttering about how big everything was. But for Kana, it was strangely... dull.

  She had seen better. Not here, but in the fragments of dreams she carried like faded photographs. From the other place. From when she was healed by Suri’s mom.

  A place with towers that scraped the clouds and glowing cities that pulsed like stars..

  Compared to that? Brick and stone was just brick and stone.

  Still, Kana didn’t say anything. She kept her thoughts to herself as the carriage rolled forward into the noise and color of the town. She had a bow to find.