Downtown Repose: Alex/Kratos &c
An arrow came out of the dark.
It was a mad thing to happen, even unbelievable. The modern era, death came in screaming noise, in lots of sound. A big truck slamming on its brakes, smoking on the pavement with a wail as it came toward you; the howling of a hurricane; the strange pop of a gunshot. Even the beep of many electric machines counting down inevitable clinical death.
Arrows, though, arrows are very quiet.
This one had homemade fletching of goose feather, a blackened arrowhead sharpened against a stone, and a strong shaft cut from the woods far back beyond the lake. It was made of Repose, and cut quietly through its night.
It was an odd spot for an arrow. Alex wasn't that far from the lights. The cemetery was ahead, but it was quiet too, and usually no one shot arrows out of it at innocent passerby. To anyone else, Alex himself was a shadow too, with the stronger lights of the tiny town behind him. The arrow came right for him, cutting through the shadows and beyond the light. Someone shouted.