Artemis Agrotera has a minion!

Athena the Shadow Owl

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A haunting melody echoed through the trees, its gentle call bending around their trunks as though the sound held a life of its own. Murmurs chased it, rising to a mid soprano and back with the will of the wind.

A second voice joined the powerful, high warble of the melody, and the living sound wrapped around those walking in the woods like the most inescapable snare. Stags froze in their tracks, and bears paused in their foraging to muse over the otherworldly noises of the nymphs.

A horned doe of pale hair and feline tail alone was resistant. Her cloven hooves made no sound upon the ground as she stepped, for each hoof was placed with the deadly precision of the Hunter. The brilliant light of the moon shone from above her eyes, and upon closer inspection, the face of Selene herself could be seen watching over this creature. Upon her back was a feathered bow, decorated with brass and crafted by the very hands of the Cyclopes.

She was very proud of this bow.

As the creature drew near to the mystical singers, their voices calmed, bringing life again to the wild woods.

“My ladies,” the silver doe asked, “Have you finished your preparations?”

Though she had only merely spoke, the nymphs wept with envy at the sound of her voice. Had the doe ever taken an interest in singing, she would have driven them all to madness. The twin of the Lyre had song in her blood indeed.

“Aye, Lady Artemis,” a blue-haired nymph of the river sighed forlornly, tears of the purest water sparkling down her cheeks. “Your camp was finished not a moment ago.”

“With your permission, we shall prepare your prize, my lady,” moaned a fiery red nymph of the maple tree. Amber sap flowed from her brown eyes.

Artemis gave her a meaningful, yet respectful, bow of the head to grant this permission. She turned as they did - one for the camp, to make fire, and the other back the way she came, for the great beast she had felled.

Goddess Artemis of the Wild and the Hunt shook her head and sighed. Nymphs were strange, impossible creatures.

The nymphs, as they had promised, dressed the corpse for her. The massive boar's hide, a terrible black expanse of bristle so dry it scoured the skin, and skull, a twisted mass so fearsome that even dead, the nymphs would not stand directly in front of it for fear of its attack, were given to her to decorate her seat at Olympus, and the flesh of the boar burned for them all to share. They had helped her hunt it, after all.

The horned doe shifted to a tall woman in a flash of silver light, and she gracefully took her allowance of meat from the serving nymphs with a murmur of thanks. She was careful not to speak very often in their presence, as their tears were long and frequent when she did. Even then, as her back was turned, she could hear their sad sighs and soft tears between whispered words of awe and wonder from across the fire-bed where the carcass lay.

She was just picking over the last of her share when the deep, rhythmic cry of a wild owl announced an unexpected visitor.

“I am a tad embarrassed, sister,” Artemis said, brushing the crumbs from her flowing robe. “I wish you had come much sooner.”

“Think nothing of it,” replied a grinning Athena, Goddess of Strategy and War, tearing chunks of boar flesh away from its bone with her teeth. “I'm just happy to have caught you. Those cloven feet move so steadily and softly it would seem to be an easy task, but that horned doe is mighty quick!”

“I have trained, you fool!” Artemis fired back with good humor. “What good would a hunter be with heavy feet and slow wit? Nay, what good would a doe be?”

“Lunch!”

Behind them, the nymphs whimpered. Though Athena's loud bark rung over her, Artemis sounded indescribable even with just a laugh.

“I assume you are here for a purpose, you addle-minded fool,” Artemis chided, wiping tears of joy from her eyes. “Unless you mean to tell me you arrived to drink my wine.”

“Of course I did!” Athena taunted, giving her sister's shoulder a punch. “Nay, it is true. I have good news to share.”

“Did somebody die?”

“You would like that, wouldn't you? No, I have won a contest.”

“Of what nature?” Artemis asked, brow furrowed suspiciously. “You know my love of sports.”

“As close to your bosom as a sweat-covered man, yes I do,” Athena chuckled.

“Well?” said Artemis, leaning forward impatiently. “What was it, then?”

Athena turned, grinning. Her eyes gleamed with a mischievous light. “A competition of giving.”

Artemis blinked. “Giving? To whom?”

“The people,” Athena said through a mouthful of meat. “Of Athens.”

“You would name a city for yourself, you vain fox. I must ask, however,” Artemis said, leaning against the cypress tree behind her and crossing her arms behind her head, “Why the change?”

Athena swallowed, but waited until she had another bite of food inside her mouth before she spoke again.

“You mean why did I give to the mortals instead of the reverse?” she asked. “You remember the city of Chorigisi, yes?”

“Is that the one you took?” Artemis asked angrily, spitting on her sister's cheek. “They had given to us all equally, and in generous piles. You mean to have that for yourself, Athena?”

Athena wiped the spit from her cheek with her hand and resumed eating as though nothing had happened.

“Nay, for everyone but Poseidon, for it was he that lost to me. And yes, that was the city I took.”

“We had both loved it, as did we all, but he had considered it more fondly. I had yet to repay him for the desecration of my maiden Medusa, so upon seeing him pining for the city from his seat upon the sea, I realized this was the opportunity I had sought.”

“It was a contest of a single day, and hardly more than five minutes. I had issued the challenge, thinking there was little a sea god could do for an already-thriving seaside city, but he nearly proved me wrong. When the crowd had finished gathering to watch us compete, he merely struck the side of the sea-cliff with his trident, and the ground shook. I had thought his gift to these people was an earthquake, but to my great surprise, a spring sprung up from the ground!”

“The people were joyous. By the sea as they were, fresh water was a commodity to come by. I felt ill at first, thinking I had lost, but the mortals quickly gave to disgust. The spring was salty! He had filled it with ocean water, the fool!”

Artemis could not have laughed harder. “Oh! A salty spring! How very useful!” she cried, gasping for breath.

It took her some time to calm, but when she did, Athena's interests had shifted.

“But, sister, you have not finished your tale,” she pleaded with a frown, and received a grunt in response. Athena had cleaned the bone and taken the opportunity to break it for what lay inside, preferring this activity to telling her story to her sister.

A plate to the top of the head later, Athena continued.

“I kept my laughter to myself, not wanting my sea-bound people to receive any trouble from our uncle, and threw a quill at the ground under the slope of his salty spring. An olive tree came forth from the earth, its roots digging deep into the useless ocean spring. Then I turned to Poseidon and the people of Chorigisi, and I said, 'This is my gift - an olive tree. Its branches shall bear year round, giving these people oil and food, its bark shall shed, giving them wood, and its roots shall turn that spring to drinking water.'“

“They were so impressed, I was brought a live cow! I gave it to your brother, Apollo. It was decorated so well, I felt he might like to have it. I hope no ill will has come between you since we have last met.”

“No,” said Artemis, shaking her head. “It is rare that my twin and I have fights. But, Athena, you won the contest with an olive tree?”

“Strange, isn't it?” Athena said, grinning. “I was going to give them weapons to take their neighboring city and increase their trade, but I suddenly thought of you. You, who had educated me on the roots of the mangrove tree.”

“Indeed I did, but it is the mangrove only that turns salt to water,” Artemis said with a smirk, leaning on her knees. “I should hope the greatly confused people of Athens never turn their axes to that magic olive tree you gave them.”

Athena laughed. “Don't make fun of me! You are the nature girl of the family, Artemis!”

“You have reminded me,” she said, looking over her shoulder at her whispering nymphs and dropping her own voice to a whisper as she did so, “of Erichthonius. How is he?”

“Ah, the gift child from Gaea,” Athena whispered back, nodding her head. “He is well. His feet are somewhat lame, but his mind and arms are strong.”

“Enough to make a secret mother proud,” Artemis said with a wink, earning a smile.

Athena nodded, and cast her bones aside. “I am afraid it is time for me to leave, sister - again, I have enjoyed your conversation too much and stayed too long.”

“Tis a shame,” Artemis teased. “Until we meet again, warrior.”

“Aye,” said Athena, eyes glinting mischievously again. “I should hope we do, for I do not know how to tend an olive tree.”

Artemis's eyes widened. If she was reading this invitation correctly, her beloved sister - someone she did not often see - wanted her to stay with her in Athens. “You are clever, Athena!” she cried, slapping her nearest arm with force. “I refuse to believe this was not your plan!”

“It was, on the spur of the moment!” Athena laughed, rubbing her arm. “I shall see you, then, and not learn a thing when you show me how it is watered.”

“There's more to it than that-”

“I am not learning, sister.”

“You are too foolish to learn.”

Artemis walked Athena to the edge of her forest, leaving the nymphs to clean up their mess. They happily bickered back and forth over who was the smartest between them the entire way.