The Owner of the Reversed Arrow
Even after the scent of the ember bucket faded, the forest did not fall silent.
There was the sound of a tiny insect scratching beneath the damp leaves.
The solitary cry of a bird on a distant branch, cutting off abruptly.
And even the sound of the team behind them desperately trying to hold their breath.
Mirea lightly rolled her shoulders, as if she had heard all of it at once.
"Their footsteps sound so pretty."
The words sounded like a compliment.
Which made it all the more dangerous.
The more Mirea smiled, the quieter the forest became.
Dorman paused while adjusting his grip on his shield and asked,
"Is that a good thing?"
"In the forest, it usually means something bad. Frightened people drag their feet, and those who are experienced discard their sound entirely. But those who are trying to pretend to be quiet... only the tips of their toes sound pretty."
Someone cleared their throat from behind them.
The playfulness vanished from Ronan's face.
The senior team, who had just covered the ember bucket with their bare hands, hadn't gone far. Without even wiping the dirt from their hands, they were tailing Ronan's team at a set distance.
Cerise spoke in a low voice.
"Are they following us?"
"They are likely waiting," Neris replied, looking down at her observation slate.
"According to the map, the path splits into north and west soon. North is the faster route. West is the detour."
Mirea wrinkled the bridge of her nose.
"The scent to the north is heavy."
Neris's eyebrows twitched ever so slightly.
"The map marks the path to the north."
"The forest doesn't grow by reading maps."
"Still, discarding the map based solely on scent is inefficient."
The air between the two pulled taut.
Lya looked back to make sure Dorman's coughing had completely stopped, while Ben silently tightened the straps of his backpack.
Cerise stepped forward first.
"Both of you, stop."
She pointed at the mud with the tip of her scabbard.
"If we fight amongst ourselves before the path gives us an answer, it will be too late."
The fork in the road was closer than they expected.
An arrow was carved into the bark of a thick beech tree. It pointed north. The carving wasn't shallow; the white inner wood was exposed, as if someone had gouged it out with the tip of a blade.
Beneath the arrow lay a patch of mud.
And stamped in that mud was a neat row of fresh boot prints.
They were too orderly.
It was as if someone had deliberately left them there to be seen.
Neris lowered her posture.
"The direction of the arrow matches the map. The footprints also lead north."
Mirea immediately shook her head.
"The human scent is too fresh. It's not the scent of someone passing through, but the scent of someone waiting here and rubbing against things."
"Scents mix with the wind."
"The smell of boot grease doesn't mix easily with the wind. Especially not new boots."
Neris fell silent for a moment.
As if finding the silence grating, a low chuckle drifted from behind them.
A cadet from the red-banded team leaned against a tree with his arms crossed. A folded spare map was held in his hand.
"If you can't read the path, just ask. If you're going to whine about scents when the map and the marker match, you'd be better off finding your way in a kitchen, not the Monster Forest."
Mirea's hand drifted toward her bow.
But once again, she did not draw an arrow.
Ronan watched her hand.
Tension gathered in her fingertips, then released. The cadet's words had crossed the line to be laughed off, but he wasn't an enemy to be shot yet.
Ronan took a step forward.
"Did you make that mark?"
The red-banded cadet snorted.
"Why would I? The forest is naturally full of markers. The problem is the people who can't read them."
"Then we shouldn't touch it."
"What?"
Ronan didn't erase the arrow.
He didn't even place a hand on the bark. Instead, he walked around to the back of the tree. There was a contour invisible from the front. The bark was peeling away ever so slightly.
Cerise stood beside Ronan.
"Is it the reverse grain?"
"Yeah. If you carve from the front, all you see is the arrow. But if you apply pressure from the back, I think whatever is hidden will pop out."
Neris caught her breath.
"Wait. The fibers of the bark have been pressed in reverse."
Mirea looked at her.
"You can see that?"
"I can. It's not in the same direction as the scent you mentioned, but it is definitely strange."
The smirk faded slightly from the red-banded cadet's face.
"What are you plotting? Damaging markers is a point deduction."
"I'm not damaging it."
Ronan slowly curled his fingers.
A single Phantom Sword materialized in the air.
It was longer than the one he had used for the ember bucket. Yet, the blade remained razor-thin. It wasn't a sword meant to threaten a person, but a line slender enough to slip between the bark and the air.
Neris's gaze followed the tip of the blade.
Lya silently watched Ronan's wrist, her eyes checking to see if he was putting too much strain on it.
Ronan relaxed his wrist slightly.
"I'm fine."
Lya gave a small nod.
The Phantom Sword slipped behind the tree.
It didn't cut.
It nudged.
A crisp, cracking sound echoed from inside the bark. A thin crack appeared beneath the northward arrow on the front. It wasn't just a single line. Another hidden line slowly revealed itself.
A second arrow pointing west.
It was the original marker.
Someone had covered it with a thin piece of bark and carved a new arrow over it.
The surrounding cadets gasped.
Mirea spoke softly.
"So the original path was west."
Neris tightened her grip on her observation slate.
"I was wrong."
Mirea blinked, caught off guard.
Neris continued, her eyes fixed on the arrow.
"I only looked at the map and the surface marker. I shouldn't have ignored the scent."
The corners of Mirea's mouth twitched upward.
"Your eyes are decent."
"Your nose too."
"Can you say that again?"
"Only once."
The sharp edge between the two softened slightly.
Just then, Ronan's Phantom Sword stopped.
A thin wedge remained embedded behind the bark. It was the small piece used to secure the cover over the original arrow.
Ronan looked at the red-banded cadet.
Hanging from the cadet's waist were two more thin wooden wedges of the exact same material—tools used to secure trail markers.
"I suppose these aren't yours either?"
The red-banded cadet reached for his waist.
In that instant, Ronan's finger flicked down half an inch.
Ting.
The wedge shot out.
The flying wedge didn't pierce him. Instead, it pinned the collar strap of the red-banded cadet's shoulder. As the thin piece of wood yanked the strap, the spare map he was holding slipped from his elbow and fell.
The piece of paper unfurled over the mud.
On the inside, only the northern path was drawn in thick, heavy lines.
And next to it was a short note.
Send the straggler team to the north.
It was unclear who read it first.
But everyone saw it.
No one laughed.
This time, a silence colder than any laughter settled over them.
Ronan looked down at the spare map.
"You said the forest is naturally full of markers. I guess it's naturally full of handwriting, too."
The red-banded cadet opened his mouth, then shut it.
The teammates standing behind him took a step back. However, the collar strap pinned by the wedge made it look as though he were chained to the tree.
Cerise pressed the tip of her scabbard into the mud.
"You said the north was faster."
She raised her head to look at the red-banded cadet.
"Then your team goes first."
"What?"
"Surely you marked it because you believed it was a safe path."
Mirea smiled brightly.
"Ah, the scent is quite heavy over there. But since it's a path you paved yourself, your heart must be light."
This time, several cadets couldn't hold back their laughter.
Instructor Hagen was watching the scene from a short distance away. He was as quiet as if he had been standing there from the very beginning.
"He who makes the mark bears the responsibility of the mark."
His voice cut the laughter short.
"Go to the entrance of the northern path and retrieve every single piece you embedded. Verify the path you intended to send others down with your own feet."
The red-banded cadet's face turned pale.
"Instructor, the north is..."
"You said it was the faster route."
He couldn't say another word.
Neither could his teammates. The faces that had waited so confidently froze one by one. They slowly began to walk along the northern line they had drawn.
For the first three steps, they pretended to be quick.
By the fifth step, their feet grew heavy.
By the tenth step, as a low, earthy scent drifted from deep within the forest, their shoulders hunched simultaneously. No monsters had appeared yet. But everyone knew that this path was not one to be trifled with.
Hagen did not send them any deeper.
"That is enough."
The moment the words left his mouth, the red-banded team stopped almost in unison. They picked up the small wooden wedges and bark fragments they had embedded in the mud and trudged back.
Mud clung to their ankles.
Their own markers were held in their hands.
The gazes of the other cadets pierced their backs.
Neris raised her observation slate as she watched them, but this time, she didn't write anything down.
Mirea asked, "Why aren't you writing?"
"Sometimes it's better to remember with your eyes."
"That's a good way to put it."
"I didn't catch your way of speaking."
"You caught it a little just now."
Neris didn't reply.
But she tucked the slate into her coat.
Ronan stood before the westward arrow. The hidden marker was now clear. A thin mark remained where the fake arrow had been torn away, and the original line beneath it gleamed white in the sunlight.
Mirea took the lead on the western path.
"The wind is lighter this way. The scent of the earth is shallow, too."
Neris nodded.
"It's a detour on the map, but the density of danger is low."
Mirea glanced at her.
"Should I write down that we trust our noses?"
"You can write that it is rational to use both eyes and nose."
"Scholars talk too much."
"Archers talk too little."
Lya laughed quietly.
Cerise didn't let her expression slip even at the laughter. Instead, she shifted her scabbard to her left side and spoke.
"Changing formation. Mirea in front, Neris checking markers. Ronan in the center. Lya at the rear left."
Dorman raised his shield.
"Where am I?"
"Wherever you are loudest."
"Where is that?"
Ben answered, "Next to me."
Dorman thought for a moment, then nodded.
"Safe, indeed."
Ronan took his first step onto the western path.
Behind them, the red-banded cadet picked up his spare map from the mud. The ink had run and smudged, but the word 'straggler' lingered clearly on the wet paper.
He rubbed the word with his palm.
It didn't erase.
It only smeared with more mud.
Ronan didn't look back.
Mirea spoke from his side.
"Aren't you going to help him erase it?"
"What you write with your own hand, you must erase with your own hand."
Neris added quietly, "It lasts longer in the mud."
Mirea chuckled.
"Your eyes really are decent."
This time, Neris offered a tiny smile as well.
The forest path was longer than the northern route.
But there were no fabricated footprints along the way.
The reversed arrow remained on the bark.
And the owner of that arrow could say nothing in the end, standing before his ruined map.