Chapter Text
Leaning against a tree trunk, Lyra closed her eyes briefly, willing herself to remain focused. She couldn't afford to give up, not today. She crouched low among the dense undergrowth, her bow gripped tightly in one hand, the other resting on the quiver strapped to her back.
Sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves above, casting dappled shadows over the forest floor. It was a place she knew inside out, where she could find her way with her eyes closed. This forest was a sanctuary where she sought solace from everything else in her life. Where everything got too much, this was the place she knew would soothe her and calm her down.
Normally, this was the hour when game was most active. Today, however, the woods seemed unusually quiet. The usual rustling of leaves and the distant calls of birds were absent. Even the tracks she usually followed seemed faint and scattered.
She had been hunting since dawn, driven by the familiar ache in her stomach and the ever-present need to provide for her family.
With a sigh, Lyra moved cautiously forward, her senses attuned to every sound and movement. Her thoughts drifted to her siblings at home—hungry mouths awaiting her return, innocent eyes filled with hope. They relied on her, and she would not return empty-handed if she could help it.
"Artemis, goddess of the hunt," she murmured softly, sending a quiet prayer heavenward. "Grant me your favour this day. Guide my hand and lead me to prey, so that my family may eat."
There was no immediate answer, just the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird. Lyra sighed, steeling herself to continue. She had been in this position before—facing the uncertainty of the hunt, relying on nothing else than her skills and a bit of luck to provide for her family.
Hours passed with little success. The forest remained stubbornly silent, as if mocking her efforts. Lyra's frustration grew with each passing moment, her steps slowing as fatigue threatened to overwhelm her.
Soon enough, she found herself at the edge of a small clearing, where a few rays of sunlight managed to penetrate the thick foliage. Closing her eyes for a second, she allowed herself to soak up and enjoy the warmth that the rays brought.
As she lounged under the sun, taking a break during her hunt, Lyra squinted up at the sky and playfully called out towards the sun. The fatigue and frustration made her do something she wouldn't, even in her wildest dreams, imagine doing. She leaned her head back and looked up towards the sun.
"Alright, Apollo, if you're really the god of prophecy and light, then how about a little help here? I could use a sign—or maybe just a deer or two to make this hunt worth my while. I promise I'll make it up to you with a proper offering. Just don't let me go home empty-handed, or I might have to start begging Hermes for a swift escape from this endless search!" she sighed dramatically, leaning back and spreading her arms out in a gesture of surrender. "Or at least send me a sign that I'm not completely hopeless at this. Even a squirrel would do at this point."
She chuckled to herself, shaking her head at her own audacity.
Just as despair began to gnaw at the edges of her resolve, the crunch of footsteps on dry leaves startled her back to attention. Instinctively, she readied an arrow, her heart racing as she scanned the her surroundings carefully.
There it was. A small flicker of movement in the distance. Her heart quickened as she cautiously approached, her breath held in anticipation. Through a gap in the foliage, she caught a glimpse of a small deer grazing peacefully in a sunlit clearing.
A surge of relief and gratitude swept through Lyra as she notched an arrow and drew her bowstring taut.
The world narrowed to the steady thud of her heartbeat and the target before her. With a whispered apology to the animal and a small prayer to whatever god was willing to listen, she released the arrow, watching with practiced eyes as it found its mark.
The deer staggered, then collapsed gracefully to the forest floor. Lyra hurried forward to inspect her catch, her hands trembling slightly as she knelt beside the fallen creature.
She murmured words of thanks to Artemis for guiding her hand and providing for her family once more, as well as Apollo. Even though her prayer was more of a joke, it seemed like it was heard. And she couldn't be more happy and relieved about this.
As she knelt beside the deer, thoughts of her family crowded her mind. Her younger siblings would eat well tonight, and perhaps her parents would acknowledge her efforts, if only for a fleeting moment.
Yet beneath her sense of duty and the satisfaction of a successful hunt, a lingering ache persisted—an ache born of longing for acceptance and recognition beyond the boundaries of her modest existence.
*****
The sun had begun to reach its peak by the time Lyra emerged from the forest. Her muscles ached from the long trek home, the weight of the deer slung over her shoulders not making it any lighter.
However, the sight of their modest cottage nestled among the trees brought a flicker of warmth to her weary heart.
Pushing open the creaking wooden door, Lyra stepped into the dimly lit room. The scent of hearth smoke mingled with the faint aroma of herbs hanging from the ceiling hit her as soon as she crossed the threshold.
Both of her parents remained seated in their spots by the hearth, barely acknowledging her presence.
Her mother, poking at the burning coals, glanced up briefly as Lyra entered, her expression unreadable behind a mask of weary resignation. There was no smile of greeting, no words of acknowledgment for her daughter's return or praise for her successful hunt.
Instead, she turned her attention back to the meagre meal she was preparing, as if Lyra's arrival was nothing more than a fleeting disturbance in her daily routine.
Her father, a stern man with calloused hands and a gaze as sharp as flint, looked up from sharpening his tools as she approached. His eyes briefly flickered with approval as they settled on the deer slung over her shoulder, before this spark disappeared once his gaze fell back on his daughter and he nodded curtly.
"You caught one," he grunted, his voice devoid of warmth. "Good."
Lyra's heart sank, though she had expected nothing more. She had long grown accustomed to her parents' indifference, their praise reserved only for her siblings while she remained an afterthought, and her being relegated to the role of provider, her worth measured solely by her ability to bring food to the table.
Still, she had hoped, perhaps naively, for a moment of connection—a glimmer of pride in their eyes, or even a word of thanks. Anything. But she never received any of that. For her parents she was simply a means to an end.
It stung, but she pushed the hurt aside, focusing on the positive—her younger siblings, a ragtag group of four, that rushed towards her with excited chatter and wide smiles. They crowded around her, their eager hands reaching out to touch the deer with a mixture of curiosity and admiration.
"Lyra's back! Lyra's back!" exclaimed Alexander, a cherubic boy with tousled hair.
"We missed you!" cried his twin sister, Callista, clutching at Lyra's tunic with sticky fingers.
The other two echoed their siblings' excitement, their voices a chorus of gratitude and wonder that momentarily drowned out the distant hum of disappointment echoing in Lyra's heart. She smiled tiredly down at them, ruffling their hair and offering soft words of reassurance.
"Yes, little ones," she murmured, her voice tinged with both affection and weariness. "Dinner will be plentiful tonight."
It wasn't her biggest catch, but definitely high on the list. It was a rare treat for her to bring home a deer. Usually, she only managed to find few hares or birds, barely enough for her family to eat, never mind her. She mostly got scraps of what was left when they all got their own portions.
With a quiet sigh, Lyra relinquished the deer to her father's capable hands, watching silently as he began the process of cleaning and preparing the animal. Her mother's distant gaze never left the bubbling pot over the fire, her expression unreadable as she continued to move about the cramped space.
Lyra's fatigue melted away as she dropped to her knees to embrace her siblings as they swarmed her, now that her hands were free, her laughter mingling with theirs.
She tousled their hair affectionately before gently prying them off to help with preparing the stew, when her father waved her over. Her siblings hovered nearby, peppering her with questions about the hunt and marvelling at the size of the animal.
She set to work with practiced efficiency, skinning and butchering the pieces handed to her by her father with steady hands. Her siblings watched with wide-eyed fascination, occasionally offering clumsy help or fetching tools when needed.
Their genuine excitement and gratitude brought her comfort and warmth she missed, reminding her of why she endured her parents' neglect—to provide for those who truly appreciated her efforts.
She remembered to set aside a small amount of meat, remembering about the promise she made a few days ago to her best friend. He and his family needed it just as much, if not more.
By the time the last cut of meat was portioned out and cooking over the fire, the cottage was filled with warmth and the comforting aroma of roasted venison.
Lyra sat back on her heels, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Her siblings clamoured around her, chattering animatedly about the meal to come and peppering her with more questions.
As they ate together, sharing stories and laughter around the rough-hewn table, Lyra found solace in their company. Their genuine affection and unwavering support were her anchor in a world where she often felt adrift.
She savoured the fleeting moments of happiness, knowing that tomorrow would bring new challenges and the familiar weight of responsibility.
In that small, humble cottage, surrounded by the love of her siblings and the flickering glow of the hearth, Lyra found a fleeting sense of belonging—a reminder that even in the face of adversity, she was not alone, even if it brought her only little comfort.
But as the day went on, even a few hours later, she couldn't shake the feeling that this morning's hunt held more significance than usual.
Little did she know, her prayers had not gone unheard, and the events of this and the following days would set in motion a series of events that would change her life forever.