Chapter Fifty-Seven
I was itching to hunt, itching to ride Erebus, itching to have time by myself to pray or simply close my eyes and sleep, but the cold air was fraying tempers, and bickering ensued.
There were issues over those not pulling their weight or taking more than their fair share of meat at mealtimes.
Mothers feared for their sons, knowing they would not return when the snow fell, and the task of comforting and appeasing them fell on me.
Aina arrived at my door before dawn.
“I need an ibex horn.” She did not bother with greetings as she allowed herself in.
“Ibex horn?”
“To reinforce the limbs of the bows. It will be stronger than what I have. Longer too. One animal should be enough for a half dozen weapons.”
Ibexes were not creatures we saw daily in Ninniya, but they were common enough on the other side of the valley where the terrain was rockier.
It was a full day’s walk away, but I saw the determination on Aina’s face.
If I did not go with her, she would go on her own, and right then, I was grateful for any excuse to leave the village.
“You will need help to carry such an animal,” Damaris said, appearing in the hall behind me. “And I could do with a hunt.”
So the three of us left.
The cold air stung, and the higher we climbed, the stronger the wind buffeted us.
My strength had grown considerably by this point, for I would not have managed such a journey the year before.
Still, I was about to suggest we head back and wait for spring to fetch Aina’s precious horn when she spotted a herd of ibexes above us.
There were at least twenty of the animals scattered on the mountainside, finding stable footing on the jagged, sloped rock faces. With spring long gone, even the kids were sizable, but I knew without question which animal Aina had chosen.
The horns that protruded from the beast’s head rose upward to double the animal’s height before curving down his back. Those two horns alone would be enough for Aina to strengthen over a dozen bows, and the meat would provide us with a feast grand enough to abate some of the bickering. So I hoped.
I did not speak but looked at Aina. In her eyes, I saw it: that desperation to be the one to make the kill. Lifting the bow of her own creation, she fired an arrow up the mountainside.
* * *
Aina’s pride, more than the elation of the kill, made the walk back to the village bearable.
“I wish Mother had been there to see,” Aina said for what must have been the twentieth time. “I am going to make her a bow next. She has used mine and is a solid shot. She just needs more practice. I’ll make one for each of you too if you would like them?”
“That is very kind, Aina,” Damaris replied. “I would like that very much.”
“I know you have yours from Hirtus, Otrera,” Aina continued with barely a pause for breath. “But something could happen to it, and where would you be? I think it is necessary for you to have more than one. Don’t you? Otrera? Otrera?”
It was only the repetition of my name that alerted me to Aina’s question, yet even then, I did not respond. Instead, my eyes were fixed on the road to the village. Or rather on the people walking upon it. Noting the reason for my silence, Aina shifted her questioning.
“Why would people be walking to the village?” Her tone reflected my own apprehension.
“I do not know. Damaris, is there anywhere they could be heading? A distant temple perhaps?”
Damaris shook her head. “This road ends here. There is nowhere else to go.”
“Perhaps they are lost?” Aina suggested.
“Perhaps.”
My bow was slung over my shoulders, and my fingers tingled with the urge to pull it around. Damaris wordlessly shifted her position, taking my share of the weight of the ibex so that I could reach for my weapon.
We continued to walk back toward the village, the group below us in the valley oblivious to our presence.
The longer we watched them, the more deliberate their choice of path appeared.
They had not turned back or even stopped to scan the horizon in search of some missed track.
Soon they would be upon our village, our homes.
The thought knotted in my stomach. I could not let that happen.
If people were to find out what we had done, news would spread, and one polis or another would see we paid the price. I could no longer watch and wait.
“I will go to meet them,” I told Damaris and Aina. “The sooner we turn them back onto their correct path, the better.”
“We should come with you.” I could have predicted Aina’s response.
“No. Stay here. Keep your arrows nocked. If you see me go to do the same, then fire.”
My bow remained slung over my shoulder as I separated from my friends and headed down the hillside.
The sun was behind the travelers and the sky full of the soft magenta hues that Astraeus so frequently produced on colder days. Often, when I glanced at such a sight, I would offer a prayer to the gods for filling my life with such beauty. Yet that day, the thought did not cross my mind.
As I drew closer to the group, one feature became apparent. Other than the children, every person wore a veil and a long chiton. They were women. Over half a dozen of them.
I did not try to hide my presence, and it was clear when I had been spotted.
Several women and children pointed in my direction, and for the first time since I had begun watching them, their pace faltered.
While they slowed, I sprinted toward them and placed myself squarely on the road, blocking their path to Ninniya.
“Where are you headed?” I said.
The women huddled together, whispering furtively.
Only one looked directly at me. Her eyes, which were fixed on my bow, were flecked with green and yellow.
They were the only features I could see, for her veil was swept over her hair and across her face.
I opened my mouth to repeat my question, but before I could, the woman spoke.
“Are you one of them?” she asked urgently. Her accent was local. Less than three days’ walk away, I suspected.
“Are you lost?” I asked, paying her question little mind. “Where is it you are hoping to go?”
She stepped forward again, her eyes widening as she repeated her question.
“Are you one of them? One of the women who rose up?”
I shifted my attention up the hill. My bow remained empty, yet Aina and Damaris were ready. The woman’s gaze followed mine up the hillside, where she saw the women with weapons trained on them. She let out a small gasp.
“Tell me who it is you are looking for,” I tried again.
“You are them,” she said, tears filling her eyes. She lifted her hand to her veil and pulled the fabric from her face. A split in her bottom lip had swollen her mouth to an ungainly size, while her jaw was mottled with black and blue bruises. She turned to the group behind her. “Do it,” she said.
My hand darted for an arrow, but no sooner had I touched the shaft than I realized what they had wished to show me.
One by one, the women dropped their veils.
Each of them bore wounds. Wounds that we ourselves had worn so often.
Eyes swollen so greatly they were almost closed shut.
Noses at disjointed angles, where they had been struck by a fist or an elbow or thrown against a wall.
It could have been a glimpse of my past.
“You are the ones who fought the men,” the woman said again. “And we have come to join you.”