A drop of water splashed onto the petal of a single red flower. It clung there for a moment as if it were hesitant to continue on its path into the soil, but it was soon joined by another and another, and together they all plunged into Demeter's welcoming embrace. The Earth stirred as it registered that the droplets of water were actually tears, desperately yearning towards the small child who was producing them. The willow tree under which the girl knelt unwound its twisted trunk and bent over to wipe the tears away with one leafy finger. The girl hiccupped but otherwise paid no mind to the distress of the environment around her: her attention was entirely focused on the creature that lay dead in front of her.
She hadn't meant to do it.
"Please wake up," her voice was full of sorrow as she tried again to gently move the creatures head back into the right position. Not the weird floppy angle that death had captured it in.
The tree rustled again as the tears came quicker, sending word to a small bird who had nested in the branches to go fetch the girl's mother. The tree was an old thing, it had seen many people take refuge beneath its wide canopy, but it had never before had a visitor who had acknowledge it. Not like the girl did. Every day the little princess with her unusual red hair that sung of power would wish the tree a good afternoon and then sit down with her homework, or a toy, or simply sit in peace for an hour, before getting up, said goodbye to the old tree and made her way back home. It was not just the tree who had enjoyed the girl's presence, which had brought a whole new life to the little sheltered part of the meadow in which the tree had made its home. The islands creatures often timed their outings in the opening to coincide with those of the little girl. The tree had noticed, for instance, how the old deer herd would pass through the meadow at precisely three in the afternoon instead of the usual midday grazing session. It had been no real surprise therefore that the Princess had soon found many friends within the meadow. But none quite like the small little Hummingbird.
Diana had loved the beauty of the little bird from the moment it had landed on the edge of the book she was reading. It had tilted its small little head and then looked at the page, as if asking what she were reading. So, she had explained, because it was her favourite book and she thought everyone should know about the story of Troy. The bird had listened intently until she had finished and then had disappeared. Disappointed, Diana had not expected the bird to return the next day and the next, always wanting another story. Soon the pair had run out of stories Diana knew – she was only 5 after all – so they had begun to create their own. The old tree had enjoyed nothing more than the afternoons when the pair had scrambled through her branches pretending to be giants or brownies, fairies of nymphs. Until today.
Today Diana had forgotten herself in her excitement. The pair were re-enacting the battle between the Gods and the Titans and were in the heat of the final battle when a bolt had leaped from the child's finger tips and hit the little hummingbird square in the chest.
"Diana," the word burned with a cocktail of emotions: concern, grief, a touch of fear, but above all else pure relentless love. The little girl could barely bring herself to look up at her mother; her eyes, the only pair that matched Hippolyta's own, reflected a tempest out at sea.
"I didn't mean to momma, I..." she looked down at her hands in pure fear. It was the one emotion Lyta never wanted to see on her daughter's face again. Kneeling down beside her darling little girl, she gathered her into her arms and brushed the red hair from her sodden cheeks.
"I know you didn't, korítsi agápi mou. You just didn't realise your strength. It is the same as if I did not stay my hand before hitting your Aunt in training, or if the river ran so fast the fish couldn't swim. You will learn korítsi agápi, you will learn."
It took Hippolyta close to three hours to calm her daughter down enough to help her bury her first real friend. They decided on placing the little bird between the two big roots. Lyta carried her baby home that night, as Diana rested her chin on her mother's shoulder and watched the tree grow smaller and smaller in the distance.
She swore never to visit the tree again.
YOU ARE READING
Wonder Woman: The Birth of a Legend
Fanfiction"There are many myths that surrounds Wonder Woman's birth, her early life, and how she came to us at a time we so desperately needed her. But whenever I ask she simply smiles and asks which story I would like her to tell. I don't think us mortals wi...
