Atalanta licked sweat droplets from her upper lip as she lifted her spear
and took careful aim.
The Calydonian boar ignored her; it let out something between a grunt and a bellow, lumbering toward two rather panic-stricken members of the hunt. Telemon and Peleus were both unarmed, having already thrown their spears and missed the deadly beast.
It was nearly upon them when Atalanta hurled her spear toward the target. It flew true, embedding itself into the side of the huge boar's head.
The Calydonian boar howled and pulled back, distracted momentarily from his victims, who quickly fled.
Enraged and half berserk with pain, the boar jerked forward in pursuit, then pulled back abruptly with another roar as Amphiaraos' spear pierced his side.
Heleas jabbed at the boar, but was quickly impaled by one massive tusk. And when Angaeus sought revenge for his comrade, he was thrown to the ground. His neck was snapped by the angle at which he landed.
Meleager took swift action, landing his first two spears in the neck region and the burying the third deep into the beast's temple. The resulting cry was thick with anguish.
The boar fell onto his side; the sounds of his pain grew louder and more distraught with each passing second.
Atalanta bit back a sudden pity for the pathetic beast. Her position among the men was already precarious at best, and sympathy for the animal responsible for the slaughter of many Calydonians would be seen as yet another weakness in her already flawed, female self. She had no use for arrogant male bastards, but it was their world and she had enough sense enough to play along.
And so she watched, jaw set and face blank as the creature born of Artemis' wrath was beheaded and skinned. Later, Atalanta knew, the carcass would be stripped down to the bones. It would feed many.
Still, it made her oddly queasy when she thought about the she-bear sent by Artemis to raise her. It had been solely the goddess' benevolence that saved her life, when King Iasus of Arcadia left his daughter to die on Parthenian Hill after discovering she was, well, a she.
The bear provided for Atalanta until she was six, when by chance a hunter found her and took it upon himself to care for her. In his home she blossomed; developing an uncanny skill with weaponry and a distance- devouring lope that made her foster father wonder if her father was winged Hermes himself.
"Lady," Meleager broke into her musings, head bowed with exaggerated respect. "Though I have slain the boar, you have drawn first blood." He gestured grandly at the pile of boar-parts, looking strangely pleased with himself. "Accept the spoils and share in my glory, for you have also saved the lives of two of our party.
Atalanta didn't have time to respond, much less formulate a decorous ceremonial reply before dissension in the ranks begun. Most that did not agree with Meleager's decision to award a woman the plunder kept their disagreement to low muttering, but Phexippus, Meleager's uncle, broke in loudly and with furor.
"The whore has bewitched you into giving the honor to her," he spat. "Nephew, if you do not want the prize, then give it to me, your senior!"
Meleager's expression grew cold, more likely from his desire to win Atalanta for himself than a genuine wish to uphold her honor. Before Phexippus had any idea what was happening, Meleager pulled out a knife and stabbed his uncle, once in the heart, and then again between the ribs.
Phexippus bled to death on the ground, quickly joined by his brother when he pursued vengeance.
But Meleager too died when his mother, hearing of the carnage, burned in a rage, the charred stick that allowed him to live. Then Atropos severed the thread of his life, and like a candle whose wick has run out, he passed into the realm of Hades.
Atalanta slung a canvas sack containing the head and hide of the boar over her shoulder and headed home to make an offering to Artemis. She looked back at the blood and corpses, and shook her head slowly. "Men."
The Calydonian boar ignored her; it let out something between a grunt and a bellow, lumbering toward two rather panic-stricken members of the hunt. Telemon and Peleus were both unarmed, having already thrown their spears and missed the deadly beast.
It was nearly upon them when Atalanta hurled her spear toward the target. It flew true, embedding itself into the side of the huge boar's head.
The Calydonian boar howled and pulled back, distracted momentarily from his victims, who quickly fled.
Enraged and half berserk with pain, the boar jerked forward in pursuit, then pulled back abruptly with another roar as Amphiaraos' spear pierced his side.
Heleas jabbed at the boar, but was quickly impaled by one massive tusk. And when Angaeus sought revenge for his comrade, he was thrown to the ground. His neck was snapped by the angle at which he landed.
Meleager took swift action, landing his first two spears in the neck region and the burying the third deep into the beast's temple. The resulting cry was thick with anguish.
The boar fell onto his side; the sounds of his pain grew louder and more distraught with each passing second.
Atalanta bit back a sudden pity for the pathetic beast. Her position among the men was already precarious at best, and sympathy for the animal responsible for the slaughter of many Calydonians would be seen as yet another weakness in her already flawed, female self. She had no use for arrogant male bastards, but it was their world and she had enough sense enough to play along.
And so she watched, jaw set and face blank as the creature born of Artemis' wrath was beheaded and skinned. Later, Atalanta knew, the carcass would be stripped down to the bones. It would feed many.
Still, it made her oddly queasy when she thought about the she-bear sent by Artemis to raise her. It had been solely the goddess' benevolence that saved her life, when King Iasus of Arcadia left his daughter to die on Parthenian Hill after discovering she was, well, a she.
The bear provided for Atalanta until she was six, when by chance a hunter found her and took it upon himself to care for her. In his home she blossomed; developing an uncanny skill with weaponry and a distance- devouring lope that made her foster father wonder if her father was winged Hermes himself.
"Lady," Meleager broke into her musings, head bowed with exaggerated respect. "Though I have slain the boar, you have drawn first blood." He gestured grandly at the pile of boar-parts, looking strangely pleased with himself. "Accept the spoils and share in my glory, for you have also saved the lives of two of our party.
Atalanta didn't have time to respond, much less formulate a decorous ceremonial reply before dissension in the ranks begun. Most that did not agree with Meleager's decision to award a woman the plunder kept their disagreement to low muttering, but Phexippus, Meleager's uncle, broke in loudly and with furor.
"The whore has bewitched you into giving the honor to her," he spat. "Nephew, if you do not want the prize, then give it to me, your senior!"
Meleager's expression grew cold, more likely from his desire to win Atalanta for himself than a genuine wish to uphold her honor. Before Phexippus had any idea what was happening, Meleager pulled out a knife and stabbed his uncle, once in the heart, and then again between the ribs.
Phexippus bled to death on the ground, quickly joined by his brother when he pursued vengeance.
But Meleager too died when his mother, hearing of the carnage, burned in a rage, the charred stick that allowed him to live. Then Atropos severed the thread of his life, and like a candle whose wick has run out, he passed into the realm of Hades.
Atalanta slung a canvas sack containing the head and hide of the boar over her shoulder and headed home to make an offering to Artemis. She looked back at the blood and corpses, and shook her head slowly. "Men."