Atalanta

by Jennifer Saint

I saw the tracks of the other hunter immediately. Aura and I usually had the mountainside to ourselves. I’d chosen the least hospitable slopes, those with the most perilous faces, the most dense and prickly shrubs, where shade was hardest to find. Where we wouldn’t be disturbed by anyone else. Whoever it was hadn’t left many traces, but enough for me to recognise at once. I slowed my pace, coming to a halt and turning slowly, checking every direction for where he might be. Aura sat poised on her haunches, nose to the air. She whined a little at something, some remnant of a scent maybe. I held out my hand to her, a silent command to stay still. Then I nodded and she slunk forwards, both of us treading as silently as we could. I was curious to know who had made it up here, who else would venture so far when the lower reaches of the forest were home to a wealth of scampering animals, ripe fruits and cool water. Up here, you were more likely to encounter a prowling lion than a deer. I wasn’t afraid – whoever it was, it didn’t matter. But I could feel something poised in the air, a moment suspended, the last breath before everything would be different. I’d felt this before, before I joined the Argonauts. It gave me misgivings. I didn’t trust in the future the same way I had back then.