Autumn, October 1865, a valley in the region of the Swiss Alps
A cold, stiff wind blew through the valley, and Zoë, for the hundred and fifty-first time, brushed a few loose strands of her stray hair out of her eyes.
The winds today were free, eager, powerful and wild, howling and whistling through the short yet concentrated trees in the basin, and Zoë had long since given up on her attempts at keeping the few rebellious strands of her long, dark hair inside her braids. She could not afford to let such a trivial occurrence distract her, not while she had a hunt to finish, and especially not while the dreadful conditions required all her concentration.
She knew the fox could sense her, and could nearly see the sly smirk on its face as it undoubtedly ran in circles around the valley, leading Zoë in a game of wild goose chase.
Unfortunately, her own, human senses were not nearly as perceptive, even with the blessing of Artemis, and over the afternoon, she had been stumbling after her prey, being led aimlessly as the fox effortlessly avoided her eyes and ears. The loud, whistling wind did little to help her pick out the sounds she needed, the differences between the snap of a stick assaulted by the wind and the crunch of a step on the leaf-covered ground, the slight distinction between the rustling leaves of the branches swaying violently in the wind and the brush of a body against the bushes in the forest.
A sudden, unnatural rustling of leaves to her left made her freeze in her tracks. With her centuries upon centuries of experience, Zoë had long since learnt to judge the time between a gust of wind and a rustle of the leaves. That one almost certainly did not fit in the pattern. The previous gust of wind had been nearly ten seconds ago, and the delay in between the time when the wind struck and when the branches responded should certainly not be that long. It could only mean one thing.
It was near.
Another crunching sound of dry leaves breaking apart caught her attention. This time, it was to her left. The fox must be slowly circling around her, teasing her but remaining just out of sight or reach.
Pressing herself back up against a large tree, Zoë silently brought out her bow and nocked a steel-tipped arrow. She was determined to catch it this time, determined to not let it fool and humiliate her again.
Another chilling gale swept through the trees, only adding more nerves atop Zoë's already erratic heartbeat. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew sight would do her no good right now, when she didn't have an inkling of where the fox might be. It was far too experienced for that. She had to rely on her ears.
Crunch. Barely audible, but Zoë caught it, somewhere straight in front of her. Her eyes snapped open as she zeroed in on a patch of shrubs dead ahead, around fifty steps away. Carefully, taking extra care to not make a single sound as to alert the fox, Zoë drew back and adjusted her elevation. Any mistake would not do. The skies were darkening, and if she did not make this shot, she would fail.
There! A flash of orange appeared in her vision, peeking out just a centimeter or two from the bush. Zoë released her shot. The arrow seemed to travel in slow motion as it flew tantalizingly slowly towards her target and over the bush. She couldn't tell if she had missed or not, she could only hope.
Her hopes turned into reality when a blur of orange and brown raced from the bush towards her. As it approached, Zoë could very clearly see the arrow embedded in its side.
"Success," she sighed in relief. A laughing sound emitted from the animal as it morphed into the shape of a young girl with lush, auburn hair and silver eyes, holding the arrow by its shaft.
"Indeed," Artemis said, pressing a quick, chaste kiss onto Zoë's lips as the arrow vanished into thin air. "A very good shot. If the arrow had been tipped with celestial bronze, I would have sustained quite a severe wound. Although," the goddess continued, "it took you much longer than an usual hunt of this difficulty would take you, dear. Perhaps you are out of practice?"
Zoë could only shoot her goddess a dry, amused look. "I could not guess why, my lady," she replied wryly. "Perhaps the result of being cooped up on an island for over four years."
"You know it was necessary, love," Artemis chided, lightly walking behind Zoë to wrap her arms around her waist, resting her head on the taller girl's shoulder. "I was one of the few who had a sanctuary of peace. Others were not so fortunate."
Indeed, she was right. Artemis was able to take shelter on the island of Delos, her birthplace, to escape the splitting headaches and migraines that was a result of the American Civil War, the bloodiest war in recent history for both mortals and demigods alike. The conflicts and battles between the Greeks, who fought for the Unions, and Romans, who fought for the Confederates, sparked such discordance and clashing between the god's two personalities that it rendered most of them useless and unable to function as the Greeks and Romans alike called on their gods for support and blessings.
Zoë supposed she should count her blessings that her goddess wasn't as heavily affected, but being practically imprisoned, for lack of a better term, on an island did not seem like much of a blessing at all. Delos, while beautiful, was rather small in area, and as a result, all the novelties of the island had already been discovered by the Hunters in a mere few weeks, and life had become tedious and monotonous rather quickly.
"How is Olympus coping?" Zoë inquired. "Has everybody returned to their normal duties?"
Artemis hummed in thought. "More or less," she finally replied, idly playing with the baby hairs on the back of Zoë's head. "The most called-upon gods are still recovering - father is still bedridden, and Ares, while able to function, has such a severe case of migraine every day that no one can stand to be within a mere step of him, due to his loud groans and curses. Athena is in a worrying state, calling for war on Rome in her muddled mind - understandably, of course, her Roman aspect is not well respected in Rome at all. And of course, my dear brother is as immature and promiscuous as always."
Ah yes, Artemis's brother. Apollo, having been identified as "Apollo" in both Greece and Rome, did not have any problems during the course of the war. There is no telling how many more innocent maidens he had seduced. Zoë was sure that, in a decade and a bit, there would be an abundance of Apollo's children suddenly appearing at both camps.
"Surely the gods must take action," she pointed out, "to prevent such a catastrophe from ever happening again."
Artemis nodded, removing her head from Zoë's shoulders. "There will be no absolute decisions until father recovers," she said, "but there is a general idea of wiping the demigods' memories and keeping them apart as much as possible. Impractical, and rather foolish, if you ask me. It does not solve the problem at its roots, only delays it until next time."
"Yes," Zoë agreed. "The best course of action would be to resolve the conflict once and for all."
Artemis sighed, then brightened as she skipped lightly in front of her. "But enough about that, my lovely bloom." In a flash of playfulness, she added with a smirk. "I'm sure you are eager to do something else for a change, preferably to me?" Zoë blushed as her goddess wagged her eyebrows suggestively.
"You think me fool enough to believe that the goddess of hunting could be caught against her wishes?" She laughed softly. Artemis smirked.
"That is assuming that I do not wish to be caught, my dear." And that was enough incentive for Zoë. She surged forward and trapped her goddess's lips in an eager kiss. Her earlier words had been more than just wry sarcasm; it has been way too long since she has had time with her goddess, alone, without the Hunters or the gods. Of course, she loved her sisters dearly, but enough time spent without break with a dozen prepubescent immortal teenage girls took its toll on her mind. It was rare enough that they could justify this kind of "hunting trip" together, perhaps once every year or two, and after four, long years of her patience wearing thin, well, who could blame her if she wanted to grab her mate by the scruff and roll around in the soft blanket of autumn leaves on the forest floor together, if only for the sheer joy of spending time with her lady and love?
A gasp of surprise was torn from her as Artemis pushed her down. She fell roughly onto her back, but the thick layers of dry, orange leaves cushioned her fall with a crackle. Artemis lay above her, their bodies ever so close but not quite touching. Despite the heat radiating from her goddess's body, Zoë shivered as she stared up into the large, silver eyes that she held so dear in her heart. The normally bright orbs were dark with hunger and passion as Artemis's full, red lips curled into a lazy, smug smirk. "My lady-" she began, but was cut off by her own gasp of pleasure as the goddess nipped teasingly at her sensitive earlobes.
"Shh," she murmured against her ear. "Don't talk, my beautiful Nightshade. Just enjoy the moment."
And enjoy it Zoë did. There was a time for everything, a time for duties, a time for hunting, and right now, it was a time meant for her and her mate only. They were in the wild, alone, with only each other, and a wild creature and her mate answered to nothing in their own territory. Zoë's hand wound into Artemis's lush, auburn hair in a moment of fearless confidence, and she could feel the smile on her goddess's lips against her own as she dragged her close again.
"Tonight, my love, you are mine," Artemis breathed against her lips, "and I am yours."
Zoë smiled.