Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story, they belong to Renaissance pictures. No copyright infringements intended.

Authors note: No living being has been harmed during the production of this work. However, the lifespan of various pencils has been reduced, due to chewing off their ends (that really is the food needed for creative writing).

The very first kill

Fall had touched nature and turned the leaves yellow and crimson, as if the forest was on fire. The roads of Amphipolis lay dusty and empty. The community had gathered in the only stone building. But there was no chatter, no laughing could be heard like usually. Silence was hanging in the crowded house like a curse.

It was the day of the harvest. A feast should have been prepared, a celebration in honor of Demeter, the godess of crops and fields. There should have been wine and plenty of food. There should have been joy and dances and a strong hope that the next year would be a good year. Usually.

But this year was different. The goods had been enraged by something, many thought - or didn't care, others believed and had put a draught on the land. Rain had been scarce throughout spring and summer and the sun had scorched the corn on the stalk.

The little that had been harvested would hardly reach until the middle of winter. The community in the hall therefore prayed for a miracle and struggled to come to terms with the dreary prospects they had. Some would die, many would be weak and sick and all of them would starve.

A girl of ten or eleven summers stood between the grown ups. She had raven black hair down to her waist and was thin like a rod. Hunger burnt in her bright blue eyes. She bent over to talk to her little brother, who had pulled on her hand.

"What is it, Lyceus?"

"I am hungry, Xena," he whispered shaking his useless corn doll, "You said there would be a feast."

In Xena's eyes appeared a new spark of determination. She had told her little brother that he would not go to bed hungry, so she would see to it. She looked for help, only to see her mother – head bent and crying and her older brother Toris sitting on the floor, with an empty face.

Toris, though only fourteen had already succumbed to the despair of the village people. The work in the fields had somehow dried him up – inside and out. Xena wanted to push him awake and shake gloom and hopelessness out of his eyes.

"Lyceus," I am going to find something to eat," she said.

"I am coming too," Lyceus' squared his little jaw, mimicking his sister, "I can be very useful."

Xena smiled. "I bet you are. But someone has to take care of mum," she said and her quiet voice allowed no contradiction, "Look," she pointed to Toris, "he can't do it. He is too tired."

Lyceus looked at his brother: "Yes, he said he won't play with me, because he is too tired." He nodded seriously: "I'll do that – I'll take care of mum!"

"And Lyceus, one more thing, don't tell mother what I am doing, she is just going to be upset."

Xena had already made up her plan, when she approached her mother. "Mother!" she startled Cyrene, "I am going to fetch some water. Lyceus is thirsty."

Her mother only nodded and sunk back into her misery.

The villagers usually drew their water from individual wells that they had dug in their back yards and on the village square, but most of them had run dry during the hot summer. A little bit away from the village was a stream that still carried water. However, Xena had not planned to fetch water from either of these sources. She had enough of this muddy brown liquid. She wanted to hike up the mountain to Pan's spring. It was the only place within walking distance that still had clear and icy cold water – a luxury these days.

On the way there, she would definitely find food and if it only would be a handful of berries or mushrooms. She rushed home to pick up her little toy bow just in case. As she was about to close the door behind her an idea struck her. Carefully she sneaked into Toris' chest and got a handful of arrows out. Hopefully he would not find out before she had a chance to put them back. He would be mad.

She ran – all the way up the mountain. Even so it would take ages to get back home. Roots and fallen trees would not stop her and as her power threatened to leave, she imagined Lyceus' thin face and the shadows beneath his eyes. He deserved a feast. She wanted to see a smile on Cyrene's face and just a glimpse of the old Toris.

They all deserved a hearty dinner, with juicy meat and goblets full of crystal clear water, wine for her mother and and … a stomach filled so absolutely that the thought of desert would make you burp. Xena imagined a night slept through without hunger waking her in the middle of the night and the burning desire to chew on – absolutely anything. These thoughts carried her through the forest -thoughts of food.

Closing in on the spring she became careful. Wolfs and bears were roaming those ground and other yet more dangerous creatures on 2 legs, alone and in groups were bound to be here too. A clear spring would attract them all and though the little girl was determined she was not stupid.

She approached the little lake that spread under the spring on tiptoes, and followed its curve to the big stone where the water sprang from the mountain. She fumbled on her hip to remove the flask as she saw the doe. It was tiny with glossy light brown fur and thin legs. Its neck was bent over the water and its muscles moved gracefully.

Xena squatted on her heels. The wind was coming towards Xena, hiding her scent from the sensitive nostrils of the beautiful animal. Thoughts of desire and regret rushed through the little girls head, but she pushed them away. Here was her chance for dinner and she would take it – whatever the price.

She disengaged the bow from her shoulder and pulled an arrow out of her quiver. She put the arrow on the string and squinted over her stretched thumb like Toris had taught her. With a deep breath her fingers released the arrow.

Maybe that the doe had heard the air swish in the arrows tail, maybe that the wind had changed for a break of a moment or maybe it just moved out of instinct, but the arrow missed its heart by a few inches. It shrieked as the point pierced its skin and jumped on all four legs. Xena felt sorry for the animal, but she had not the time to focus on it. The bow in her fist she followed the wounded animal.

The doe would die and Xena had to be there. She zigzagged through the underbrush, following the trail of its panicky flight. Adrenalin rushed through her, as twigs snapped into her face and brumbles pulled at her sandals.

She heard the rugged breath of the doe and her own heartbeat. Without thinking she pulled a second arrow from the quiver and put it onto the string. She had hardly enough time to find her stance let alone aiming. But the scream of the animal told her that the arrow had found its target.

With a few leaps Xena gained on the doe and saw it fall. Its forelegs buckled and caved and its head sank to the ground in a bizarre arc, like a sad last reference to the forest. Its hind legs were still thrashing wildly and then it was over. With a last frantic yelp the doe's body rolled to the side and air and blood gushed out of its snout.

Xena moved closer hesitantly. Her hand touched the soft skin carefully. She fell on her knees and hugged the animal. There was so much blood. Tears streamed down her face. Shame and grieve where overwhelming the feelings of the hunt. She broke a twig from a nearby fir and dipped it into the blood. She thanked Artemis and shouldered her prey. She wanted to do more for the animal, but she did not know what. And all the time she cried bitter tears. She had killed for the first time and whatever reasons she had had for doing so seemed invalid at this moment. The beautiful innocent animal was dead.

Xena found her way back to the spring and washed off some of the blood. She filled her flask and headed for home. On the way home the doe proved to be much heavier than Xena had believed. Though she had tied its hooves like a seasoned hunter the carcass weighed her down. The way appeared longer, so much longer. Sweat trickled down Xena's brow and the exertion leveled the girl's emotions. The guilt receded and a quiet peace settled. The girl was looking forward for dinner.

As she finally reached Amphipolis the blazing sun dipped below the horizon. Xena had needed hours. By now – she thought – the whole village must be on the lookout for her, and her mother would be worried sick. But the roads of Amphipolis were quiet. Nobody waited for her at home, nobody scolded her for running off.

Irritated Xena dragged the deer to the stone hall and opened the door. They were all still there. Only Lyceus looked up as Xena entered.

"Xena," he yelled and jumped to his sister's side, "a feast!"

One by one eyes moved in the girls direction, measuring the thin little girl in the blood stained clothing, finally settling on the carcass of the skinny doe. Of course if Xena had brought a bear down to the village it would not have been enough for a feast, but something about the girl touched the villagers.

Maybe it was the spark of hope she ignited, with her fist clutched around the toy bow, her face smeared with blood and tears – but a fierce determination burning in her blue eyes.

To see the pure joy of Lyceus was somehow contagious and a smile tugged on the faces of many a villager. Pretty fast the doe was skinned and grilled over a fire in the village square. People congratulated Xena on her hunting success and brought out their own stocked up supplies. There was a tankard of wine and a freshly baked bread, goat cheese and wild fruit – all piled on a make shift table, a board and two saw horses. Somebody brought a lyra and Xena could hear drums. And though there was not nearly enough food for everybody there sure was a feast – regardless if there was anything to celebrate.

Lyceus and Xena were toasting each other with the water from Pan's spring as Toris approached his younger sister: "Well, you probably think, you're the big hot shot now, but as much as I am concerned, you were just lucky to kill that stupid animal. And didn't I tell you not to steal my arrows!"

- END -