He studied her, then scanned the dimming sky. “I’m afraid we’ve no choice now. Come, let us return to Olympus.”
She nodded, pure anticipation stealing her breath. She waved farewell to the nymphs and placed her arms about Hermes’ neck. He carried them both, swift as the wind, to Olympus. When they arrived, the Council Chamber doors were closed. And still, she could hear yelling from inside.
Hermes set her down and moved to the door, but she stood back.
Hermes glanced at her. “Persephone?”
She shook her head. “I shall retire… I cannot face....” She did not finish, she could not. Instead she ran to her rooms, far from the Council Chamber and any hope of seeing him.
Was he here?
She picked up the comb Demeter had given her, brushing through the tangles in her long hair. It calmed her, busying herself. But once her braid was tied, her thoughts returned to him.
Time had passed, yet her heart held onto him. She did not draw breath without thinking of him. She did not dream without feeling his presence at her side. His voice, in memory, was sweeter than any she’d heard. And she did not want to be without him. She knew what she must do… but was she brave enough?
“Be brave, Persephone.” His words brushed over her.
She stared at her reflection. “I will,” she murmured. In no time, she’d tied her heavy white cloak, filled its pockets with apples, and crept from her room, down the hall, past the doors of the Council Chamber and down the steps of the mighty Temple.
Night was quickly falling, but she could not wait.
There was no sign of Hades’ chariot in the fields. The horses that came to meet her were tawny and sleek. Apollo’s steeds perhaps? She raised a hand up, offering an apple. As the horse chewed its second apple, she pulled herself onto its broad back. She gripped its wheaten mane and nudged its side, remembering all that Hades had taught her. The horse responded, setting a brisk pace as they descended the mountain path.
The plains greeted her, stretching without end. The sun’s rays retreated, stretching long fingers of black and gray in their wake.
She squeezed the horse with her knees and tangled her hands in his mane. The horse quickened its pace, flying so swiftly that Persephone bent low over his shoulder. Her hood blew back and pulled her hair free from its braid. She looked to the light, following its path as they raced across the plains.
The tall grasses whispered to her, welcoming her as they brushed against her calves. The sun was gone, blocked by the towering trees that edged the plain. Patches of light dappled the plains, but not enough. She would not reach the rocks, or his cave, before darkness reached her.
Still she tried, tugging the horse towards each break in the dark. Until there were none.
The grasses faded, kissed by neither sun nor moon. She looked up into the blackening sky. While the stars had begun to sparkle and dance, the moon would clearly be of no help. The slightest sliver, the thinnest crescent moon, offered no protection on her journey.
The rocks rose up ahead. Their jagged peaks offered her no menace, only comfort. His cave, her home, was close now.
And then all fell silent. The grass hushed. No bird or owl called out. Nothing but the whistle of the wind against her face.
She felt a rush of cold upon her back, and closed her eyes against it. She had no reason to feel fear. She was so close.
The horse shied, pulling against her and rising on his hind legs. She clung to the animal, whispering frantically, “Shhh, there’s nothing to fear here. I promise. Help me. Help me, and I will free you soon enough.”
The animal danced sideways, flicking his ears back again and again. She stiffened, and glanced back – knowing she shouldn’t.
In the creeping gloom that followed, she felt him – Erysichthon. But she could not see him.
She nudged the animal, pleading with it to hurry.
The horse bolted, tearing forward and knocking her back. Her hands flailed, snatching at the horse’s mane before she was knocked off.
Closer, so close she could see the cave.
The horse reared once more, managing to toss her from its back. She fell, landing heavily and knocking the breath from her lungs.
“You should be careful,” Erysichthon’s voice caused her to shudder.
She sucked in breath and rolled, ignoring the ache in her side and the tear of her tunic. She did not look at him, but pushed herself up and forward, to the cave.
His hand grabbed her cape, twisting the hood and jerking her sharply back. The strings, tied securely, dug into her neck and pinched her throat. She pulled back, yanking the tie and releasing her from the cape. She ran, frantically, to the mouth of the cave. With one step she was inside, her tunic grabbed by three sets of pointed teeth and dragged to safety.