But Isidora is right. I grip my knives hard, watching in horror as Atalanta manages to strike the boar’s front leg. With that, the boar tears through the clearing, scattering Greece’s finest warriors like a flock of chickens. Nikoleta curses under her breath and lets her hand fall. Isidora grimaces, but lowers her bow in resignation. Lady Artemis will not need our help protecting her precious monster. I never knew honor was so important to our goddess. I know I will always remember this: the men’s screams echoing through the beautiful forest, the glint of metal blades that never get a strike. This is what Artemis is capable of.
I try hard to detach. This is just a painting. Another epic story, like the ones Isidora tells around the fire. I blink and blink again, surprised at how stoic the girls beside me are. But they’ve been here far longer than me, and Nikoleta is the war god Ares’s daughter, raised in Sparta—an empire built on battle. Maybe this is their normal. Even if they’d been the ones to rescue me from Delphi all those months ago, their apathy bothers me as much as the bloodbath unfolding before us.
The group splits as the boar charges, and I watch as Atalanta and another man dive to one side. The boar swivels madly, and I cannot tell the difference between the men crouched around it—not from back here, not with all their hair dark and their tunics shredded. My stomach churns, but my gaze is pulled by a flash of gold. I jerk my head up, my knives following suit. Atalanta’s running now, diagonally toward us, so fast that I hardly register her motion. Nikoleta hisses at us to get down, and we drop to the earth, half-hidden behind thick brush. Atalanta is close to us—close enough that I think I can hear the heaving breaths ripped from her chest. I peer through the branches, my heart racing. Her back faces the approaching beast, her arms fumbling madly at her quiver. She’s separated from the group, close enough to us that I can see her fingers tremble as she yanks an arrow free. Close enough that I know she’s about to be killed.
Don’t let them get in my boar’s way.
I’m seized by a blinding, panicky anger. Why did these warriors think they could best Artemis? Why did they think they could defeat her boar?
A ferocious, encompassing fury pulls at me and makes me raise my right hand, ignore Nikoleta’s confused glance, and heave it straight at the beast’s chest. It sails with miraculous strength I hadn’t known myself capable of, veering just left of the tree Atalanta presses her back into, and thuds into the boar’s body. The boar unleashes a terrible sound and staggers backward, but the scene is so chaotic, I realize the hunters are too far away to notice my golden blade pierce the monster. Only Atalanta’s eyes are trained on the boar’s wound. I watch, terrified to breathe. Nikoleta and Isidora’s horrified reprimands echo dimly around me, but I stare as Atalanta approaches the beast slowly. I watch her reach for my knife. She wraps her fingers around it, and yanks it out hard.
Atalanta starts to look in our direction, and it’s only Nikoleta’s quick instincts that force me to duck down again. We can’t see anything now, but the silence is clear: we have ruined our goddess’s intentions. I whip my head toward Isidora and Nikoleta. They both wear expressions of shock, betrayal, and—worst of all—fear.
I heave a shuddering breath as the boar’s dying groans penetrate the sun-hazed forest.
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