Atalanta

by Jennifer Saint

She was my sister, mother, guide and teacher all in one, and just like her, I wanted to fear nothing.

He glanced at me. ‘You were sent by Artemis. It was Hera, the queen of the immortals, who gave this task to me. I won’t defy her.’ But Hera wouldn’t save him, I thought. Artemis had shown me that the gods could be as ruthless to their favourites as they were to their enemies.

I had left my forest for this quest, convinced it would be a feat of heroic glory. But the bulls, the earthborn warriors, the monstrous snake – none of it had been our battle. Somehow, we had been spectators to Medea’s victory instead.

It was their rage, I thought, the anger for their stolen girl that made them punish every man they saw.

I needed to remember who I was, who I had always been. A woman who was unafraid.

I didn’t have to be an obedient follower of Artemis, jumping to serve her every command; I didn’t have to be a hero in the mould of Jason or Heracles or the angry boar-hunters at Calydon. I wasn’t going to try to shape myself to be like one of them, a ruthless, self-serving, glory-seeking man. I was something different to them all.

The oracle warned that I would lose myself, but the opposite is true. I am more myself than I have ever been. I am wild, I am free. I am Atalanta.