Chapter 2
The fire of pain from my back and neck wake me. I try to move, but I can't move anything. I fight down the panic that tries to set in, and then there is a re-assuring hand on my shoulder. It takes a second to realize that I'm strapped face down on a bed, to keep me from moving while Alfred tends to my wounds.
"I have you Master Bruce," Alfred says in his calm trusting voice.
"How long?" I say. The dryness in my throat makes my words sound like I'm croaking.
"Only a few hours sir." He said as he began stripping the latex gloves from his hands. He began loosening the straps that held me down. "I took the liberty and contacted Mr Fox. I told him that you would be unavailable for a few days." He said helping me to roll over and sit up.
I kept my eyes closed, and used the mental disciplines I learned early in my travels to control the burning pain from my injuries. After a few minutes the pain has become a dull throbbing, not the blinding fire that it was before.
"Contact Dick and Barbara see if they'll be able to take over for a few days. I'll have Tim cover the north end."
"Master Timothy's grades are falling in English Literature, perhaps your convalescence can coincide with is hiatus?"
Nodding, I said "He'll need the time off to get his grades up." I stood and slipped into the silk robe Alfred handed me.
I left the infirmary and gingerly walked to the main console of the cave. I begin typing a message for Diana telling her that I was unavailable for sparring and that I would contact when I was available. Why not just call her, tell her about your injuries, and to hear her voice would do wonders, she would understand. I push that thought aside and my finger hesitates over the send button. I failed to hear Alfred come up the stairs until he coughs discreetly. I hit the send button a little harder than intended to. I try to ignore the smile I hear come to Alfred's lips.
I spend the next three hours updating my records with the information I gathered tonight. I began a separate search of all animal attacks within the last year in Gotham. I exclude those that I know are from Waylon Jones, the Killer Croc.
The burning in my eyes forces me to look at the clock. It's almost 8 AM. Even though Lucious will be able to handle things for me, I should try and get a couple hours sleep. I slowly walk up the stairs to the grandfather clock. I check the monitor to ensure there is no one in the library. I push the grandfather clock open and step into the library. On an impulse I browsed the books, and found myself in front the historical section. I saw that they were in no particular order. I fought the need to organize them by the empire they represented. My hand stopped on one particular book. It was an obscure text I found chronicling the Amazon nation up until its disappearance. I absently touched the spine thinking of Diana. I had spent more than fifty thousand dollars on this book trying to learn anything I could about the rookie in the tiara as Stewart had called her that first day.
I took the book from the shelf and made my way to the stairs. I thumbed through the book as I climbed the stairs, and made my way to the master suite. I could feel the exhaustion starting to wear me down. I laid the book beside the bed and collapsed face down on the bed.
I am running hard and fast through the woods. Above me I can see her, the silver goddess crying for me to join her. I can hear the other voices singing out to the night and to Diana, the goddess of the moon. I long to sing out too, but I'm close enough yet. I run faster trying to get to the others, so I can join in the rejoicing. My legs burn with exhaustion, the pads of my feet are tender, my tongue hangs low outside my mouth, and still I push on. I need to be there, I need to add my voice to the song.
As I run I can smell them, the men, the women, the old, the weak. I can smell the fertile, and the infertile. It is an erotic scent that ignites another fire deep in my belly. The smell of jasmine burns into my nose, it lingers in my nose, and it smells of heaven.
I run harder, for they have begun the hunt. I can smell the fear rolling off the deer like waves on the seashore. It's running hard and fast, trying to escape, but we are to fast and too many. It stumbles and goes down. A large female is first to it, tearing into its throat, and then a male tearing into its haunches. We all join in, feasting on the deer that gave such a good chase. We sing out in victory, we sing out as one, we sing out to the moon, our Diana. To my Diana.
