Young Writers Society

Bleating, dirt; bleeding, dirt. Screaming, slipping, scattering rocks.

I was charging down a steep incline towards the edge of a cliff with no regards for my own safety, all to stop my brother’s beloved nanny from an untimely death. As I flew along, nettles scratched at my shins, and my sandals tore up clumps of soil as I tried to keep up with my own weight.

If it had been under any other circumstance, I would have relished the sensation of the wind rustling my damp hair and the sight of the ocean’s waves gilded by the sunset, but as I was soon to be plummeting to my death, all I could focus on was the wiry goat running gleefully along the cliff’s edge. I knew those rocks like the back of my hand— which from years of weaving and farm work I knew quite well— and it was clear that Cleo would slip and fall at any second.

At that point, I had tried everything from calling her to offering her treats, but her untoward behavior persisted. I was almost ready to let her go to her death. Still, she was Cy’s goat, and I was sure my brother would never speak to me again if I just stood by and watched as she strutted off of the cliff’s edge.

I stopped at the edge of the thicket.

“Cleo,” I said. “Come here, please.”

She took another step towards the cliff edge. Rocks went scattering down into oblivion.

“Cleo,” I called again, this time louder and sterner.

She took two more steps, and then she began to run again.

“Cleo!”

I stalled for a second, blinking, baffled, and then I was dashing along the very edge of the cliff, slivers of distance away from Hades.

Just as Cleo was about to go plummeting to her death, I dove. My chest skidded painfully against the stone-littered ground; my lungs groaned in protest as I landed heavily on Cleo’s backside. With my arms wrapped tightly around her, I rolled her over and tossed her as far as I could before jumping to my feet and seizing her by the scruff of her neck.

“You stupid, stupid thing! Why could you not just stay put like you were supposed to? The sun is setting, I am covered in mud, we have a field of thorns and barley to hike across before we get home, you have ruined my tunic, and my legs won’t stop stinging for a month!

‘By the Gods, I hate goats. If Cy had listened to me when Pa died and sold the farm to that bastard innkeeper, Pano, we could be living by the ocean in a nice little cottage selling shell jewelry and fishing.”

With that and a string of curses, I set off towards home. Already in a foul mood, with my entire body aching and burning and a goat bleating as I dragged her along behind me, I was convinced the day couldn’t possibly get any worse. Oh, how horribly wrong I was.

By the time I made it back to the farm, a small fire had been lit in the hearth and the rest of Cleo’s ornery relatives were locked away behind the fence. I entered through the door in the kitchen, hoping that the abundant spices that my home always smelled of would lighten my mood, but I was met by the worst thing possible: visitors.

My brother had never seemed to understand the purpose of a door. It was almost always left unlocked, and neighbors never bothered knocking. After all, there was nothing worth stealing in a poor goatherd’s home. Thus it was that I unwittingly found myself crusted in dirt and blood, my soot-black hair matted like the thicket I had just waded through, and a dark frown creasing my already solemn features, standing before the innkeeper and his dim-witted son, Lithios.

It was a well-known fact that at twenty years old, Lithios hadn’t been married off yet. He was handsome enough, with dark, aquiline features and was known for his admirable religious zeal and piety, though even more so for his dumbness. The man couldn’t tell a dog from a wolf if his life depended on it.

“Good evening, sirs!” I said.

I glanced over at Cy, who was leaning by the hearth with a knowing smirk on his face. The innkeeper was in a similar mood.

“Is this your sister?”

His grin splitting even wider, Cy pushed himself from the wall and came forward to take my hand.

“Yes! Theo, meet Pano, your future father-in-law.”

I’m sure at that moment I looked like the stupid farmgirl I was expected to be. My eyes widened in surprise and my tongue turned to thick glue. I followed Cy’s gaze to where Lithios stood next to his father, staring at me with equal measures of lust and disgust. In my defense, at least I was just dirty. He was revolting in every way.

“My father-in-law,” I said through gritted teeth. “How absolutely delightful.”

Cy had been threatening to marry me off for months, empty as our pockets were, but the fact that he had propositioned Pano - and the fact that he accepted! - was too much to bear. Men were disagreeable. Lithios was vile.

I looked into his dark, seedy eyes, over at my brother’s self-satisfied grin, and over at my bed in the corner of the house. Three men were standing in my house, one of them my brother, one of them an old man, and one of them half an ass, but I was tired and angry and for a few more days, I was the lady of the house.

Without saying a word, accepting the marriage or otherwise, I walked over to my bed, threw myself onto it, and began screaming into the pillow.