Two Chances

Prologue

It was a nice spring day, the sky blue and clear of any clouds, Apollo's bright sun chariot casting a warm light that lured the newly grown grass to poke farther out of the soil.

Sadly, Hermes was unable to enjoy this wonderful day. He was too busy. The amount to packages he has to deliver… the mere thought made him shudder. Then, there are the two hundred more messages and letters, plus another 30 more people waiting for him.

So there he was, zipping back and forth, all around the place, in his winged sandals. This was one of the most tiring and busy days the young god had experienced.

Finally, at about an hour before sunset, Hermes delivered his last message of the day. Flying slowly back to Olympus, taking his time, knowing the Mist would make him invisible or look like some kind of bird, he saw a young girl around the age of twelve wobbling as she tried to carry a heavy bucket filled with cold water from the well.

This girl was different; even from this height, Hermes could see that. She was fair, unlike most of the other Greek girls, who were dark-haired. Her hair was like gold, bronze, and fire weaved together, a mixture of golden blonde, brownish orange and fiery red, spilling down her back to her waist. Her skin was the color of honey and milk, and as Hermes swooped down a bit, he could see that her big eyes were always changing colors, from purple to blue to brown.

Currently, her face was red with strain and her cheeks were puffed up as she struggled to pick up the bucket without spilling half the water inside.

Just out of the goodness of his heart, Hermes decided to help. He changed his physical appearance to look about the same age as her and he touched down some distance away behind a tree so she wouldn't see him appearing.

"Do you need help?" Hermes asked, causing the girl to jump and drop the bucket, causing some of the water to slosh out.

The girl pursed her lips and turned around, forcing a smile onto her face, making her look strained and extremely annoyed.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice pleasant enough.

"My name is… err… Deacon! Yeah, it's Deacon," Hermes said nervously, solely regretting deciding to come down here. He had only chosen that name because it had meant 'messenger', and that was basically exactly what he was.

The girl narrowed her eyes. "You don't sound so sure."

"I'm very sure!" Hermes nodded a bit too eagerly. "My name is Deacon!"

The girl's eyes were still narrowed but she told him, "Since you wanted to help, come on. Let's get this bucket back to the house before my mother's temperature gets too high."

"Is your mother sick?" Hermes asked as he hurried over and they hauled the bucket up and trudged slowly back to the stone-and-wood cottage not far from the well.

"Why should I tell you? You're a stranger."

"Well, I told you my name, so I'm no longer a stranger."

"That doesn't matter."

"It's doesn't?"

"No," the girl looked at him with an annoyed expression as they reached the front door of the cottage. They entered into a cozy room. But before Hermes could look around, the girl dragged him and the bucket over to another, smaller room.

This room was very warm, with the windows shut tight and a fire crackling at the hearth. There was a large bed in one corner of the room and on the bed was a pale, sickly woman, a damp towel on her forehead, her face beaded with sweat as she took deep, heavy breaths, like she's struggling to breathe. Which she probably was.

"That's a bad looking fever," Hermes commented as the girl took the towel from the woman's forehead and dipped it into the bucket before wringing out most of the water and replacing it onto the woman's forehead.

"She's been like this since 3 days ago," the girl murmured, wiping some of the sweat on the woman's face with the towel.

"Why don't you find a healer or something?"

"We don't have the money. Not yet, anyways. Father should be back from his trip in a week or so, but before that, I can't do anything about it," the girl glanced sadly at the woman, who must be her mother.

"Have you prayed to the gods?"

"Of course I have! Every single one of them, even Aphrodite, though I'm not sure how she could help with my mother getting better."

After that, the two of them were silent. Then, Hermes walked up to the girl's mother and touched her cheek gently. It was burning hot. He prayed to (or told) Apollo to heal this woman before he turned and walked away, out of the hot, stuffy room.

"I should be going," Hermes told the girl, looking into the distance at the setting sun.

"Yeah, you should," she agreed. "It's getting late. Do you live far from here?"

He shook his head. "No, not really." That was a lie, but since he could just teleport there or fly back to Olympus, it couldn't really be considered far away.

"Why haven't I seen you before then?" the girl asked, frowning.

"I'm not sure," Hermes replied uneasily. "Well, then, goodbye." And he began walking away.

"Wait!" the girl suddenly called. When Hermes turned around and looked at her questioningly, she blushed lightly and said, "Thank you for, you know, helping me. It was nice meeting you."

Hermes grinned and waved. "It was nice meeting you too, Miss… Oh, that reminds me, what's your name?"

The girl suddenly ran forward and handed Hermes a small bag. It was filled with small cakes and other snacks. "Thanks," she said again, "and my name is Alina. Alina Bronte."