Darkness was around her, the feeling of panic as she ran made her heart thud in her ears. Snarls behind her pushed her forward but with each turn the beast seemed to cut her off. Hemera could feel its fangs nipping at her heels as she staggered between the rocks near the mountain. She made a quick turn around a bolder and found herself face to face with a wild man. Her whole body trembled as she backed up until she was corned with the large rock at her back. A lump found its way to her throat, turning to scrape her hands against the rock to climb up. Dred as she was pulled back to the earth, her hands raw and bleeding. Looking down the blood from her hands started to pool, the thick cold liquid creeping up and up. The beast bore down on her, its hands turning into long talons that glinted like metal in the light of the moon. She was caught, not able to move, as the metal craws swiftly pierced her heart…
Hemera woke with a start, blades of grass stuck in her hair as she covered her mouth with a shaky hand. She looked around frantically hoping no one was near enough to see her.
This time there was no one to rescue her, no hand for her to lead her back to her father. If the gods had not had mercy on her that would have been her fate, her life cut short because of her childishness to run into the night. She still knew the choices she made at seven had caused her peers and elders judgment, recklessness and fear would forever shadow their thoughts no matter how much she walked the line of propriety and customs.
She thought herself beyond such nightmares of shadows and beasts. It was of her people's nature to show passion, anger, but never fear.
Her breath let out in a rush as she composed herself. Looking around and gathering her basket of figs that she had collected earlier she bid her heart to slow. The sun was high in the sky as the clouds drifted lazily. It had been nine harvests since that night, and although some of the memory was clouded from being so young, Hemera held onto the feelings that filled her soul. The scene before her was one she knew well, an ocean of wheat fields that surrounded the city. Farmers took to their crop and over her shoulder where the Eurotas river was, the soil giving bounty to groves of olive and fruit trees. Her father loved the city, he was a man who thrived with people all around him, but for Hemera she took comfort in being able to have the warmth of the sun and the quietness of her thoughts. She always felt like there was a wildness that couldn't be pacified inside her, hard as she tried. So much of herself had changed since then, but as she stood up in the soft grass she still felt no desire to head back to the city and be amongst her people. But she had already retreated outside the city gates long past midday meal, her duties couldn't be put off any further.
She smoothed out her chestnut hair that seemed to escape the tie at the nape of her neck. Sighing she made her way back to the city with her basket in the crook of her arm as she drew a piece of parchment from under the fruit and dusting off flecks of dirt that clung to it. She wove through the market, shouts and greeting in her ears as she gave nodded her head in acknowledgement. She was nearing the training grounds where crowds formed to watch the warriors spar.
Had she not have dallied outside the city gates she would have paused to watch the familiar display of strength. One particular warrior caught her eye, the grace and ferocity of his blows matched his intense blue eyes that met hers. The last time she spoke to him was at the feast, a win in battle always roused celebration, and there was a change in their normal friendly conversation she could not place. She could always call him friend, though she supposed the Spartan would always look at her like a child. Never growing up in his eyes since he saved her from the man near the mountains. But whether it was from being too far into his cup or something else, his eyes held a warmth in them that Hemera couldn't seem to shake.
She felt foolish then, as he caught her eye without missing a beat from his fight, fleeing back to her task before the fight was finished.
ooOOOoo
Stelios watched Hemera hurry off, curiosity musing in his head. He was now a Spartan warrior, long past his Agoge and well-seasoned in battle. But he had not forgotten the night as he returned home from his time in the wilderness. As the wild man's eyes dimmed with his death, his spear slicked in crimson, he remembers the stern face of the small girl, her eyes holding a spark of courage. Far too young to be out in the shadow of Taygetos.
But she was no longer considered a child, young as she may be, she had grown and thrived. Ares called him away for years on end, but with his last return home he took notice to the spartan woman she has become and it sparked something he pushed aside, not wanting to dig deep into feelings he couldn't help feel lost in.
You're barely at a marrying age for a solider but you're far to old for someone who has a full life ahead of her.
Hemera may not look hearty in appearance, fragile wouldn't be a correct description or soft for that matter. There was something in her stare that dissipated any inkling of a weak woman, but like the air she could turn into a storm but also become the soft kiss of a breeze. She was a beauty, a trait from her mother Stelios guessed when thinking of her father, with dark hair that sparked like flame in the sunlight. Those sharp eyes saw more than others, a credit to her father who was known to be more perceptive than most of the councilmen. Though he had been away for what seemed like a lifetime, considering how much has changed in the city and looking at a no longer gangling youth of a girl, he knew that though she often schooled her tongue and palpitated her features there was a storm waging breaking. Hemera was a Spartan woman, the place she forged in their society, proving herself to be capable and level headed.
Any man would be lucky to steal her away in the night.
You would be a lucky man, a small voice in his head answered.
Stelios gave a wolfish grin as he helped his partner, who was now rubbing is sore head, off the ground. He glanced once more in the direction Hemera had run off to, for the first time in months he didn't push aside the feeling that she stirred in him and allowed himself to think of his childhood friend as something more.
ooOOOoo
Queen Gorgo was an intimidating site that would make even the most Powerful of men think twice before challenging her. Her gaze was drawn to her King and son in their lesson as Hemera quietly waited for her attention, still clutching the piece of parchment.
"I hope your father's travels were prosperous?" The Queen spoke quietly, smiling warmly as she turned to Hemera.
"Yes my lady, he found Thebes agreeable although he is glad to be home," Hemera said as she handed the Queen the parchment, giving a respectful bow.
"Tell your father he has my thanks," She said as she looked over the parchment. "The council has snakes that dislike a nosy woman concerned about the affairs of her country…
So, the Persians new King has his father's lust for power."
"My father said he heard rumors that their King has his eye on Greece, to conquer what his father failed to do," Hemera breathed.
Queen Gorgo looked back to her husband and son, "If that happens… we will do what we Spartans do best," she said. "War."
Hemera gave a knowing nod before she took her leave.
