Atalanta

by Jennifer Saint

The goddess strode towards her, spear flashing at her side. ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ Her voice was cold. Callisto lifted her chin. I felt a pang of sympathy for her, but more powerful was the churning dread at what would happen next. ‘The storm, last summer,’ she said, and the final piece fell into place in my mind. ‘Zeus, the wielder of thunderbolts. You didn’t hear his approach, you didn’t know he came here, concealed in the chaos.’ Artemis snorted. ‘So you welcomed him here, in our forest?’ ‘I thought he was you. He took your shape, your form. In your voice, he called to me, urging me to follow, to take shelter from the rain. Thinking it was you, I went where he told me, and when he took hold of me and I saw who he truly was, there was no way I could escape.’ I swallowed, remembering the dazed, panic-stricken girl that had scrambled down the banks to my cave. The bruises on her arms, her torn dress, the blankness in her eyes. ‘All who follow me must abide by one condition,’ Artemis said. ‘I had no choice.’ But we all knew there was nothing to be gained by pleading. Callisto knew it as well as any of us. Tears sprang up in her eyes, her arms wrapped around her swollen body as she sank to her knees, weeping bitterly.

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