Nocking an arrow, I kneeled behind the leaves of the ferns, quiet as my Da taught me, as he’d taught all his sons.. I took a deep breath, observed my surroundings one more time. Another thing learned from him, and one I’m glad for. I loved hunting, but found it to be a game of boasts among boisterous men I had no desire to partake in. Loud-mouthed comparisons and masculine flexing didn’t appeal to me. But the hunt itself was always a pleasure, the dance between hunter and prey, taking from nature only what was needed. 

 

So here I was, minding my surroundings.. Many a hunter’s been done in by tunnel vision, and it wasn’t going to be me, I told myself. Sitting downwind from the boar, I smelled its musk on the air, and promptly decided that today I was a breathing-through-my-mouth kind of person. It was rooting through the dirt in a small clearing, unaware of my approach. It was a large beast, and I could barely refrain from rolling my eyes. It was large enough to catch the eye of the men in town, which would lead to annoying conversations. I didn’t look forward to them questioning my ability, pointing out my frail physique. Not that this bothered me. It was simply frustrating not to fit in with them. I’d given up on looking like one of them a long time ago, found comfort in personal grooming they did in drinking and roughhousing. And archery. 

 

I pulled the bowstring back, felt the feather of the arrow graze my cheek. Took another deep breath, and I whispered a small prayer, thanked the boar for its sacrifice. Hoping to get a killshot, I adjusted my aim ever so slightly, and released. For a second, there was absolute silence. The arrow whistled to the air softly and I felt the whole world hold its breath. The arrow struck, but not as true as I’d hoped. The boar turned to face its pain, and for a brief second it’s beady eyes locked onto mine. This was bad. Very bad. I wouldn’t be the first man to be gored by an angry boar. A part of my brain was upset at the thought of what people would say. “He had it coming, going hunting with that physique,” they’d say. “It wasn’t really a surprise.” Why was it so important to them for me to be big, imposing, and muscled? I'd never felt the desire in his life, and it would be what people focused on after my death. 

 

I stood upright, my crouched position offering me no more advantage now that it’d discovered me. I quickly drew another arrow and let loose, but the beast was charging already and the second arrow missed entirely. I braced myself for its approach. It thundered towards me faster than an animal should be able to, and I flexed my legs, and tried to jump aside. Then, everything froze. 

 

I fell on the ground, but no boar passed me by. Nothing much of anything happened. I looked around and saw the boar just stand there. No, I corrected myself, it hung in the air, only two of its hooves partly touching the ground, frozen mid-charge. I looked around. Nothing moved, at all. The whole forest was dead silent. A cloud of leaves hung still in the air where the boar had smashed through the underbrush. I picked up a leaf, and released it. It hung still in the air. 

 

There was a soft sound behind me, like “whump” but backwards. I turned around, and saw a beautiful woman. She seemed to be more real than the world around her, more full of colour. She made everything feel dull by comparison. She looked regal in a way most regents could only dream of, with features seemingly sculpted, cheekbones so sharp you could cut stone. I knew in that instant I was in the presence of a deity. She radiated an intensity, a knowledge of the world no mortal could match. She held in her hand a bow seemingly made from living wood, on her back a quiver full of matching arrows with golden fletchings. I felt… woefully inadequate. My personage was not impressive to anyone, but to this one god specifically I felt distinctly unworthy.

 

Her verdant eyes looked at the boar, and then at me, and I feared for a moment that the goddess of the hunt herself was going to chide me for my incompetence, my failed hunt. I resigned myself to it, to the fact that even the gods were disgusted by my failed “manhood”. She looked me in the eyes and I’d never forget what she said next.

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

 

I shook my head. A voice like a springtime whisperwind had cut through the air to say… what?

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, walked up to the boar and knelt down next to it. Looked at the arrow that had failed to find its mark. 

 

“This your doing?”

 

“I’m… I’m afraid so…” I hesitated. I had no idea how to address a God. No title seemed appropriate. “I’m sorry, your… graceful...ness.”

 

She looked back at me with a furrowed brow. “Don’t call me that.” She gestured at the boar. “Not a bad shot. Would have been a kill if this one hadn’t been deviant.”

 

I looked at the boar. That was… unexpectedly high praise, I thought. She stood up and looked… tired, and exasperated? I was expecting something else. Anger, maybe. Or praise. But she looked like a mother about to tell a child that the dog had died. She sat down on a nearby log and motioned to it for me to join her. I was not going to deny a god.

 

“Do you know who I am, mortal?”

 

I nodded, trying not to seem too eager. I’d looked up to the Lady Artemis for most of my life as the ultimate idol, the goal to aspire to but never reach, for several reasons. 

 

“You’re Lady Artemis. You’re the goddess of the noble hunt.”

 

She nodded, as if teaching a class.

 

“That’s right. But more than that… I… Let’s try this differently. Why do you think I’m here?”

 

I chewed the inside of my cheek. I’d been wondering that myself.

 

“You are the goddess of the hunt. Are you here perhaps to… save me from a failed hunt?”

 

She shook her head. “A death during the hunt is as noble as any to me, mortal. I’ve no reason to intervene.”

 

“Then wh--,” I started, but she seemed to not be in the mood to let me finish. 

 

“I’m also the protector of maidens, mortal.”

 

That took a minute and a half to sink in. My brain must have shut down for a moment and a half, my eyes glazed over as what she said bounced around inside my skull for a moment. I must have misheard her, I thought, but her voice was clear as the freshest spring in this frozen moment in time. Perhaps to her, that word did not mean what it meant to me, but that reasoning also failed itself. Her eyes told me as much.

 

“I’m…”

 

“I’m afraid you’re dying, mortal. Or about to be, at least. But a maiden about to die during the hunt, especially one as skilled as you, deserves a chance.”

 

“But I’m no… But… What chance?”

 

My stammering seemed to amuse her, and she looked at me with a slight smile on her lips, muttering to herself. I couldn’t make out what she said, though I thought hearing her mention something about my eyes, about my cheekbones. 

 

“Mortal, I am offering you the chance to join my choir.”

 

“But I…” I stammered. What she was saying was having a lot of trouble reaching me through the fog of conflicting thoughts in my head. I couldn’t be… But what if… Lady Artemis herself…

 

“What would I… How would... “

 

“I need hunting companions, mortal. And someone to care for my dogs, my bow and myself when I am resting.”

 

“But you said…”

 

“I seek handmaidens, mortal. Do you wish to be one of my handmaidens,”

 

“Could I be?”

 

“Would I offer if you could not?”

 

I blinked once, then twice. There was a flutter in my chest that turned into a roaring fire as the decision almost made itself. 

 

“Yes. A thousand times over.”

 

Artemis smiled, now. She seemed glad things had gone this well. I felt… Something. A pulling at my muscle, my skin, and felt myself change in indescribable ways, ways I’d always been certain had been out of reach.

 

“Good girl,” she said, and the fire in my chest sparked to her words. I must have been crying.

 

“Now, I’ll need one more thing from you, mortal.”

 

“Anything.”

 

“What would you like to be your name?”