Year c. 600 BCE
Name key:Kalliphae /KAH-li-fee/ or /KAH-li-fay/ – a nymph huntress of the goddess Artemis, lives in the woods with her fellow nymphs
Megara /me-GAH-ruh/ or /MEG-uh-ruh/ – a potter’s daughter, lives in a town near Athens
The soft summer breeze brushed my shoulder, bearing on its wings the message of her approach. Turning around, I lowered my spear and laid it on the ground. She was walking along the stony bank of the river, its waves splashing quietly against her feet. In her hands, rested a calathus – a reed basket. As she drew near, I heard her humming a tune. Once she saw me, she ceased her song.
‘Hey, Kalliphae!’ she exclaimed. ‘Check out what I’ve brought you.’
She ran up the pebble beach to where I was standing between the trees, gazing down at the water’s edge. Before I could say a word, she reached into the basket and pulled out a bouquet of wildflowers, a splash of colour against the brownish walls of the container.
‘Where did you get those?’ I asked, burying my nose in the blossoms. Their scent reminded me of those calm evenings I had once spent in the meadows of Boeotia.
‘Found them by the road near the town.’
‘Thank you, Megara,’ I said, putting them back carefully. She set the calathus on the ground and stepped closer, wrapping her arms around me.
‘I missed you so much,’ she breathed in my ear. A moment later, she released me, a cold feeling lingering where her skin had touched mine. ‘I have so much news to tell you!’
We walked to a boulder that sat by the water, its bottom part embedded in the shore. She leapt onto its grey surface and held out her hand. I grasped it and she helped me up. We sat down on the edge, letting our feet dangle above the gentle waves.
She began to tell me all that had happened since we last met – how her father let her paint his amphoras, how they sold their pottery at the town market, how she had climbed up to the highest branch of the olive tree in her garden. My gaze wandered all over her slender figure, gracefully draped in a smooth chiton. She smiled; her freckles scattered like stars across her cheeks. I wished I could drink her beauty, bathe in it, bury my face in the curves of her neck. And she went on talking, her merry voice echoing with the river’s murmur in the forest around us.
Then, she asked me what I had been up to all this time. I told her about the hunting trip I’d shared with my fellow nymphs a few days before, and how a satyr had trailed us through the woods for half the day, until we caught him and threatened to eat him for dinner. She giggled. Her laugh, I thought, like a flowing creek of golden honey. To me, these stories were nothing special – they were all part of my routine. But Megara always listened to them with a sharp curiosity, a mortal drawn to the tales of the lesser gods.
She was looking at me with utmost attention. My face flushed; my skin felt hot. I fell silent. She was just a few inches away. I could hear my heart beating violently in my chest. Without thinking, I leaned in and closed my eyes. Our lips pressed against each other. I pulled away slightly, fearing her disapproval. Instead, she drew me back to her and kissed me again. A gush of warmth flooded me.
When we finally parted, I searched her eyes for even a bit of regret. There was none; she gazed back at me with a soft smile, her expression holding nothing but warmth. Yet, I was afraid.
‘Maybe we shouldn’t have done that,’ I mumbled with uncertainty.
‘Why not?’ she furrowed her brow slightly.
‘We’re girls.’
‘So what?’
‘You will be married off by your father eventually,’ I said, moving away. ‘And then there’ll be no way for us to be together.’
She caught my hand and held it firmly.
‘It doesn’t matter, Kalliphae,’ she replied. ‘We’ll find a way.’
A tiny spark of hope lit within me. She hugged me, and for a moment, there was no room for doubt – only the cradle of her arms around me. I did not understand then how wrong this match was – she, an ordinary town girl; and I, an immortal spirit bound to the wilds.
***
I returned to the camp after darkness had settled over the forest, Megara’s flowers in one hand, my spear in the other. The huntresses were already sleeping, scattered across the grass in a clearing where, through gaps in the canopy, one could glimpse Artemis’ silver chariot gliding through the night. I put my spear on the pile of weapons, then lay down in my spot, the bouquet resting on my chest.
I conjured up Megara’s face in my mind, the bronze waves of her hair. I recalled the taste of her, her scent, the way she walked, and how her hazel eyes turned gold in the sunlight. She was beyond anything that I could ever dream of. I fell asleep with her name on my lips.
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