In the Shadow

The Goddess assured Athena that the Crazy Horns would be suitably punished for turning away from Hecate and casting out her messenger. Athena was wary of the Goddess' retribution. She did not feel any particular animosity towards the Crazy Horns, but she supposed it was out of her hands. The Goddess had to punish all tribes that did not submit to her. It was politics, not personal.

And so Athena began to readjust to civilization. She had been returning to Ouroboros once a month for the past decade, and the routine had never changed. She turned in her reports for the Goddess, and she was debriefed by the Sibyls. Then for a day and a half she ritually imbibed alcohol and smoked bufo. Usually she also danced at the dance hall, and lounged in the baths. Every month she looked forward to returning, but in all that time it never occurred to her what it was really like to live at Ouroboros, in the shadow of the Goddess' pyramid.

Athena was given a place to sleep, a clean cot in a spartan bunker. She shared a room with seven other Daughters. There was evidence in the room that other women lived there, pictures and paintings on the walls and clothing on the other cots, but for a week Athena did not see her roommates.

She lived by the schedule she kept with the Crazy Horns. Every day she woke up as the sun rose, even though she could no longer see the sun when she awoke. The bunker was different from her animal-skin tent. But it didn't matter, six AM was when Athena awoke and some part of her wanted to keep it that way. She wanted to be awake as much as possible. She was scared of the time she spent sleeping. When she was sleeping so many things could be happening and she would have no idea.

Was she sleeping when the Crazy Horns plotted their betrayal, her expulsion? She must have. Had the Goddess refused her request for medicine while she slept her alcohol off? It felt that way. When she was among the Crazy Horns a starving diamondback slipped into camp one night and ate a family and their livestock; two children a woman a man and two bighorners. They found it the next morning in the family's tent, lethargic from its meal. Athena was asleep when the diamondback attacked. She was asleep when her husband died.

When Athena wasn't sleeping she was wandering aimlessly. For a long time her purpose was clear, at least she had thought it was clear. She healed the Crazy Horns, and aided them in decisions. She stole their healthy children away and replaced them with sickly transplants. She made sure they worshipped the Goddess. Until the time just before her expulsion from the tribe her purpose had been so clear, and even near the end she still knew where her loyalty lay. Now that she was relieved from her responsibilities loyalty wasn't enough. She felt lost and aloof. She felt no more welcome among Ouroboros than she had felt among the Crazy Horns in the weeks prior.

Which wasn't to say that Ouroboros wasn't beautiful and inviting. The work of the Goddess and her Daughters (and a few Hounds) had rendered the area a lush paradise, where once previously-extinct plant life flourished. There were orchards and orchids and roses and tall golden grasses that rippled melodically in the wind. Whenever she was hungry Athena walked over to the apple trees and plucked a huge ripe apple, washed it in one of the many fountains and ate it, core and all. Often she let the juices drip down her face, smearing her face-paint. It was heavenly.

Sometimes she talked to other Daughters. Occasionally she helped them garden but she felt clumsy and oafish tending the plants. They hardly needed tending anyway. Most of them were genetically modified to repel predators and the ones that weren't were covered in pesticides. The gardens required little upkeep beyond trimming and harvesting. She did not feel talented enough in those respects to take the place of another Daughter, or a Mr. Handy.

Towards the end of her first week back she watched the children of the Goddess play. Boys and girls too young to be Hounds or Daughters, most of them "recruited" from tribes across the wasteland. A few were even descended from the Crazy Horns, the babies Athena had stolen away from their biological parents to be raised in the shadow of the Goddess' temple. She watched the children play and learn. All in one moment she was filled with overwhelming love. As she watched children with facial features she knew all too well learn multiplication, an abstract concept completely foreign to the tribal way of life she felt vindicated. She watched them play, these young children totally oblivious to the suffering of the wasteland. Children that had been rescued, not kidnapped, from a hard and desperate life struggling for survival in uninviting badlands.

Athena watched the children play for awhile longer then returned to her bunker. To her surprise she encountered one of her roommates. She was a short, curvy girl, pale complexion and a short brown haircut. Her face paint was patterned after flowers, daisies maybe. She was folding clothes to store in the trunk beneath her cot. She greeted Athena as she walked in.

"Oh hey, you're the new roommate, right? My name's Sunflower," she extended her hand for a handshake but when Athena took her hand she pulled Athena in for a hug.

"Hi, my name's Athena," she answered, overwhelmed but grateful. It was the most connection she had made with anyone since returning. This woman who had only just begun to share a living space with her, accepting her without reservation, completely and utterly openly accepting her was a revelation to Athena. No tribal would have such unselfconscious acceptance. The respect of a tribe like the Crazy Horns was earned not given, and even though she'd earned the respect a of the Crazy Horns a long time ago their hard and unfriendly way of life had come to dominate her reality.

"It's kind of weird to be back," she admitted to her roommate, "I was a Harpy for so long, out their in the tribes. I guess I just feel kind of useless now."

"Honey, you need to relax!" Sunflower admonished her, "We're all Harpies who had to leave their tribes for one reason or another.," Sunflower flashed a big, dopey smile, "My tribe was conquered by the Legion. Six-Guns, who sleeps over here," Sunflower pointed at the cot covered in ragdolls, "her tribe was wiped out by a sudden outbreak of influenza. Abuela's tribe," she indicated towards the cot that Athena realized had a rifle tucked between piles of clothing, "all got mercury poisoning. We've all been assigned to live here until there's something else for us to do, but I think mostly we've been forgotten about. We started to consider it retirement after awhile. You should come join us!"

"Join you do what?" Athena asked.

"Join us performing the ritual!"

Athena always looked forward to returning to Ouroboros, she liked the drinking and the dancing and the smoking. The rituals paraded around under the disguise of religion, but Athena always knew in the back of her mind that really it was a reward for service to the Goddess. The Harpies were the lowest rung among the Daughters, and had the most difficult job. It made sense to reward them every once in awhile with a little partying. Athena knew that all Harpies did the rituals when they returned, but she had underestimated the scope of the Goddess' efforts. New Harpies returned every day to turn in their reports. And every day they engaged in the ritual, and Athena and her roommates were there right alongside them. Athena began to slip away into a drug-fueled haze, and she couldn't have been happier.