Reliance

Ares doesn't come to the clearing for many days after that. I'm tempted to blame myself, but I could not have truthfully given him a more satisfactory answer than the one I did. I'm not going to lie to him.

I sit in the clearing, upon my customary log and pluck absently at the grass that grows long and lush at my feet. I have been short-tempered and snappish lately, even with Lilla and I can't seem to stop. It's as though I have a coiled spring wound tightly in my chest and every day it coils further, stretching my patience thinner and thinner, making my tongue sharp and caustic. I don't mean to drive people away, but they don't understand and I can't explain it to them. So they avoid me, which on the whole is a good thing, but sometimes I just long for companionship. For someone who understands.

Ares.

But he isn't here and I don't know when – or even if – he will return. I hadn't realised before how much I relied on him, or how much I would miss him should he go away. Now I know and it scares me a little. It can't be good that the only person I enjoy being around these days is a God. He can't really be my friend, can't be a part of my life – well, not a large part anyway. And that is what he's become; the one thing I look forward to, the one thing that I enjoy. The rest of my time is spent waiting to retreat to the clearing so that I can see him again and be at peace.

I can't let this continue. I can't bank my happiness on the mercurial whims of a God.

I slowly stand, resolve hardening in my chest. I'll stay away from the clearing; I'll try to find some other way to be happy. If I happen to see Ares again, then so be it, but I won't live every day just for the hope that I might.

This is easier said than done, I discover quickly. Just because I want it to be doesn't make it so; I still miss him every day, I still miss the peaceful walks and the turbulent arguments. I miss feeling truly alive. But I promised myself that I would try to make this work and so I try. I wrangle my unruly tongue into some semblance of control, restraining the biting comments that try to work their way forth. I smile and I laugh and I try to be happy. And I try not to miss him.

It's odd- I've spent the last year trying not to miss her and now I'm trying not to miss him. It seems that I will never be with the people I want to be with. They keep disappearing and leaving me here; I guess that's what happens when you're just the sidekick. When the star of the show leaves town the spotlight goes with them and all the normal people are left behind to pick up the pieces.

Every day is much the same in Potadeia; eat, gather water, wash clothes, eat, sleep and repeat. I tried to socialise, I really did. I tried to like the people my mother forced on me, tried not to be rude every time I turned them down, but it does get wearing after a while. Especially when the people you care about are nowhere within reach and no one else even comes close to being what they were.

I begin to wonder after a couple of weeks whether Ares has returned to the clearing at all. I have wondered this every day, mind you, but the urge to go there and find out is becoming overwhelming. Every day that passes it grows stronger, curiosity and longing tugging relentlessly at my bones. Whenever I draw water from the well I gaze into the forest, my fingers slackening their hold on the pail as I wonder. Is he there?

I force away the urge to find out and I continue to go about my existence with practiced pretence.