Horkos

Chapter One: {LAMB}

WARNING: Unless you've purchased the published Ichor,  none of this will make sense. Do not continue reading unless you've purchased and finished Ichor, which is available for FREE on Kindle Unlimited and available in paperback on Amazon in many countries. 

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As the gods continue the grievous cycle of human enslavement, where they vie for frightened souls with blades and chauvinistic pride, we break into their houses and steal their wine. Two huntresses always attend the arenas with Artemis—this year, Hound and Laconia stay with Artemis—but the rest of us go on an adventure.

Four hundred and fifty years ago, my best friend and I started the tradition.

Willow, who is the unified leader of the huntresses when Artemis isn't present, is three years older than me and we are the two eldest huntresses in Artemis's regime. We've been around since the first twelve years of human enslavement, and it is the two of us who are the masterminds behind our tradition.

The tradition started like this.

One day, when Artemis told us we didn't have to accompany her at the arena, a tradition blossomed like a dogwood tree in early spring. Our first victim in our wine-stealing escapades was the god of wine, Dionysus.

Dionysus was, and still is, enamored by Willow. Willow isn't only the oldest amongst the huntresses, but the prettiest, too. She has a smooth, dark complexion that contrasts with blazing blue eyes and tightly braided black hair. She has the type of beauty gods rush towards.

Four hundred and fifty years ago, Dionysus tried everything within his power to convince Willow to leave the huntresses and join him as his favorite concubine. On one particularly drunk morning, he tricked Willow and me into coming over to his house for an emergency. Before we arrived, he forgot he contacted us, and he left for the arena. When we both walked into his empty mansion, where rows of wine bottles sat unattended, the tradition started.

Still, none of the gods' slaves stop us; instead, they encourage the thievery with a glimmer of resilience that the world is too ignorant to believe humans have. Some gods are foolish and believe humans lost hope hundreds of years ago. But they haven't. They open the doors leading us to the wine cellars, and a brazen few will drink with us and alert us if their master arrives home earlier than intended.

I hate the arenas, but I love stealing wine from the gluttonous gods. They have too much, anyway.

Today, after debating between Phobos or Apollo's house, we stand in front of our matron's twin brother's splendorous abode with eager, sticky fingers. Willow stands in front, and she tilts her head to glance at me. My best friend grins, raising her high cheekbones to the sky, as she turns to the dozen huntresses waiting for her orders.

Willow's cadence is both soft yet firm, a genuine leader amongst a crew of misfits. "Raven," she orders and looks at the tallest huntress, with hair as dark as her moniker bird. "Take three girls around back. Sika, you take another three to the left wing." Willow glances at me and smirks. "Lamb, take your pick of three women and go to the right wing. I'll lead another group around the perimeter. Whoever finds the cellar first gets dibs on the oldest bottle."

We know the humans living in Apollo's house would let us enter and steal whatever we wish, but the fun is within the secrecy. The huntresses' grins grow. There are four groups, and each designated leader takes two younger huntresses. Sika is quick to grab Dýnami and Fawn; Willow chooses Diamond and Bassett; Raven takes Akita and Blade. Shikari and Copperhead are left, and the two youngest huntresses wait for my guidance.