The girl’s braid hasn’t fallen out in three days. Her hair is sunlight incarnate, and the strands weave together in a smooth and seamless pattern that leaves me sick with wonder. I wish I could speak to her. I wonder if her voice is rough or soft.
The forest is full of thick trees, making it a challenge to track her and the men she walks beside. I risk a glance to my left, where Nikoleta and Isidora both stride forward in silent unison, stalking the braided girl and the men beside her like they’re prey. I do my best to mimic the graceful motions they’ve mastered from Lady Artemis, but it takes all my concentration just to keep the leaves and twigs beneath my feet quiet. Isidora looks over at me furtively, risking a brief, commiserating smile. I return it, grateful I’m not the only one of us who’s bored enough to be examining the girl’s braid and imagining how it might unfurl. Bored enough to wonder how she must feel alongside those immense men, with nothing but a frail-looking bow in her muscled arms.
We know her name, but not much else—Atalanta. Lady Artemis speaks of her often enough that we know she’s a tough fighter, and she’s evidently good enough to be invited to hunt the most fearsome beast our Lady has ever unleashed alongside Greece’s most talented warriors.
“It’s here,” Nikoleta breathes, making her voice softer than the biting wind that weaves through the leaves above us. She comes to a silent halt, and Isidora and I fan out on either side of her. We trust Nikoleta’s instincts enough to start scanning the trees in front of the unassuming band of warriors ahead of us. I steady my breathing. They have no idea. I would pity them if they had not crossed Lady Artemis. The wind seems to stop entirely, and Nikoleta exhales, her dark eyes still locked ahead. As a daughter of Ares, she knows all too well what a boar can do. They’re the war god’s sacred animal, and Artemis created this boar to be every bit as aggressive and violent as he is. King Oeneus forgot to honor her, and now all of Calydon will feel her wrath through it.
Nikoleta, Isidora, and I are here to make sure nothing intervenes with her will, especially not this band of men. And Atalanta, I realize, but then the forest before us explodes into shattered branches and scattered leaves. An enormous beast, towering at least ten feet, unleashes a roar that pushes the hunters back. Its tusks glint in the morning sun, and my legs go weak. But it’s clear we’re far enough away that the Calydonian Boar has other things on its mind; after a terrifying moment of stillness, it bursts into action and takes its first victim. It rams its impossibly sharp tusks straight through a tree and topples the man just to the right of the prince. But Atalanta rotates expertly away from the beast, her bow primed instantly. I swallow hard as the boar roars, but my eyes are still frozen on her. For the first time since we started tracking this group, I can see her face. She’s too far to discern any real features, but beauty is apparent, and her stature is as indomitable as iron.
I hastily palm my twin knives, golden and lethal, though Nikoleta and Isidora are several seconds ahead of me. I inhale purposefully, forcing myself to focus on the fight. Nikoleta raises her hand to keep us still, and I can tell she’s remembering Lady Artemis’s instructions: Don’t let them get in my boar’s way.
“The boar might just do our job for us,” Isidora mutters, her amber eyes frowning at the spectacle of gore before us. Did Artemis truly create this?
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