It was by chance that her boat found itself in the eye of Poseidon’s rage. He took its bow and stern in his strong hands and tore the vessel in two, scattering the bodies of the crew like grain for the birds. Aphrodite watched as the waters claimed her daughter’s body, and with terror in her heart she raced from her seat on Olympus to plead with the sea God who loved her most of all. She found him on his throne and fell before him, placing one hand upon his great knee and reaching to take his chin with her fingers. She implored him to save her daughter’s life, and because he loved Aphrodite dearly he listened and went immediately to rescue Zelda, the daughter of the goddess of love and beauty. Gathering the young woman in his great arms, Poseidon cast her body from the depths of his waters and lay her gently upon the shores of the Island of Chiros, on a bed of sea foam, and she slept there peacefully, unscathed and undying, as though the storm had all been a terrible dream…
She was roused awake by a woman’s voice, but when she opened her eyes she found that she was alone. She lay in the cool, wet sand in a daze, confused, until the ocean rushed upon her in a flood of saltwater, and she started in shock, and pulled herself to her hands and knees with a ragged breath in. At once the air filled her lungs and the life she had almost lost rushed back into her. Blindly she groped her way up the beach until her hands met with the hot, dry sands, where she stayed, palms and knees burning, until her heart calmed.
Spitting the sand and grit from her mouth, she got to her feet and looked around. Somehow she had been spared, but she did not know where she was, or how she would return home. She had lain unconscious in the sun long enough that her skin was raw to the touch, shoulders as red and glowing as a hot poker. She was thirsty, and sun burnt, and needed to find shelter or she would die. So she wandered into the forest, dripping in sand and saltwater, and prayed that this was not the will of some spurned God who desired to see her suffer.
At the first sound of trickling water she gave out a small cry. Tears would have fallen from her eyes had she any to spare. She rushed onwards, following the musical notes of running fresh water like a sailor maddened by the beautiful song of a Siren. She burst through the canopy into the opening, and was greeted by a glorious spring, so clear that she could see herself reflected in its surface.
Right away she dropped to her knees and stooped eagerly over the water’s edge, scooping the water into her palms and slurping greedily, unawares of her surroundings. She splashed the cold water onto the back of her burning neck, and washed the sweat from her face and chest, and would have laughed aloud at her luck had she not looked across the pool and met the black eyes of a vicious guard dog.
Her heart shuddered and she went still, unable to look away from the animal. His jowls were pulled back to reveal its sharp canines, a low growl in its belly. Slowly, she raised a hand, and leant back on the heels of her feet, ready to flee should it give chase. Then from the corner of her eye she caught the flash of movement. Something hit her hard in the temple, knocking her down, and everything went black.
Her days were spent roaming the hills of their island, bow at her side and dogs in tow, rarely seeing another soul. Her sisters were too light on their feet to make much noise; they knew every twisting root and thicket, every rock and ledge and hidden dip that might hazard a stranger’s path. If there was sound it was an animal, or an intruder. Prey. Years ago, Marielle would have found a pit of shame burning in her stomach, hand in hand with fear, at the thought of blood on the tip of her arrow. But Artemis had hardened her heart and nerves and now she felt only excitement.
The distinct rustle of clumsy human feet through underbrush came from the left. Her hounds whipped their heads and waited for a command. Low, slow. They crept together, a pack, quiet as mice.
Ah. There. The spring lay just beyond a smattering of juniper bushes that hid the hunting party from view, and through the gaps Marielle glimpsed a woman. Red skinned, sand matted, golden haired, delighting in the cool, clear waters before her. A shipwreck, she guessed. Victims such as she were common enough on Chiros, though often they were not welcome. They were usually men, who found themselves in the company of women and hounds and believed themselves conquerors.
Still. Woman or not, a stranger begets caution. Slowly Marielle raised herself up and took a step, stringing her bow in a fluid motion. The muscles on her arms lay taut and steady, familiar in the motion while she aimed. Her dogs slipped through the bushes, hackles raised, until they were mere feet across from the woman, who finally seemed to hear their low growl.
“If you do not tell me why you’re here,” Marielle began, calling attention to herself, “I will shoot you in the eye.”
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