The Legend of Perseus: The Labors

Ch. 4

Ch. 4

Perseus sat perched in a tree.

It was coming up on an hour since he had climbed up there and the sun was starting to wane, the light beginning to fade as the twins traded places and the stars took over the sky.

His frustration was starting to mount as he could feel his time dwindling away slowly, minute by minute.

But as he contemplated calling it a day and giving up, the sound of a twig snapping in the distance immediately put him on edge. He leaned down, peering through the branches that hid his location, and located his mark.

Forty yards ahead, the shadow of something large could be seen growing bigger as it descended down the small hill where he had perched. The familiar tingle of adrenaline started to course through his veins giving him the simultaneous feelings of excitement and nervousness he had grown to love.  A pair of large antlers were the first thing he saw; he had to restrain himself from making a whooping sound at his luck.

He had thought he might find a hare or perhaps some other small game. For the past three days, neither he nor Heracles had had much luck in hunting. Their supply of meat was gone and they had been getting by on whatever they could forage as they traveled.

But as the buck came into view, Perseus felt a small shiver of excitement run down his spine.

The stag was large, the biggest he’d seen in months. If he managed to take it down, they’d be set for weeks and could focus on their task rather than worrying about food, something that had become a growing issue for the past few weeks.

He waited, controlled his breathing, slow and gentle, just as Heracles had taught him. The stag moved slowly, dipping its head occasionally to feed on the ground beneath him. Perseus had littered the area with small berries he had found a few days earlier, risking losing a valuable commodity for the possibility of a bigger payoff.

As it closed in, the deer’s head jolted up, a wild look in its eyes as it scanned for threats.

Perseus didn’t breathe.

He held himself perfectly still, praying to Artemis that he had not blown his chance at this prize.

Slowly, the stag lowered its head, returning to the berries scattered at its feet.

Carefully and with as much grace as he could, he reached into his quiver. He slid an arrow out with a deliberately slow pace as he readied his bow in his other hand. Synchronizing his breaths with his movements, he notched the arrow.

As he pulled back the string, he froze. The deer’s head shot up again. He could see the animal’s muscles tense as it prepared to bolt.

He held the arrow in place, a burning sensation running through his arm and soon after his lungs as he held his breath, refusing to move even the slightest and lose his pray.

As the buck began to lower its head again, he fired.