Chapter One

The forest lay quiet on the island of Rhodes, the gentle running winds swayed the leaves here and there, it was the only sound that could be heard within the area, until dry leaves began to rustle on the ground, a sign that an animal was passing through.

A giant boar came grinding against the dirt with its hardened hooves. A wild boar, with a skin that seemed to hard to pierce through— so it seemed. It dug through the path with its enormous thick tusks, grunting gently, as it approached a gathering of bushes, it sniffed it, then began to munch relentlessly.

The green was fresh, as was every other on the island.

It continued enjoying its delightful meal, oblivious to anything unkindly, that would be lurking nearby. And so it was.

Above the tree where it ate, a figure was was crouched upon a branch, observing it. A young woman named Anthea. A warrior by her appearance.

She had soft silky black hair that were shoulder length, some strands partly running across her face, golden bracelets around her wrists, along with other ornaments used to decorate her garment, gave her a ceremonial look.

She wielded a spear in her left hand, wooden bar and a sharp metal end that could seemingly pierce through the stem of the hardest tree. She held it with a somewhat fiercely tight grip.

She was peering intently and maliciously at the beast below, with unwavering eyes that seemed to never blink.

She watched with disciplined silence, one that could be felt, not even a breathing sound could be heard. Her could be compared to that of a cheetah, if it didn't supersede it.

She clutched on to her spear far tightly than before, ready to make the move.

The clouds began to part, giving way to the sun which backlit her image, casting a shadow upon the ground below, the shadow was now visible. The boar stopped munching, like it was taking notice.

Anthea could notice its gradual state of awareness, it was now or never.

She leaped of the branch, holding her spear in position for a stab with both hands, releasing the entirety of herself for a victorious instance. It almost was.

The boar paced out of her way just as she landed, crashing her weight hard into the dryness of the earth, she moans upon impact, nearly as if she would shatter it with her weight.

She struggles to her feet, trying find balance, when her eyes instantly pick up the sound of angry grunting. She darts her eyes to find the boar on the opposite direction, as it charges with sheer force towards her. She rolls out harm's way, just as the boar makes impact with the tree's stem, leaving her spear at the spot, her only means of defense.

She was quick to her feet this time, the state of the situation called for immense agility and swiftness, or death would be the price for lacking. She caught quick breaths, the danger she plunged herself beginning to don on her.

The boar was hefty, strong and apparently ferocious, not the kind of animal you would to get upset, or mess with, knowing your of survival were low, talk more of defeating. Anthea obviously didn't put the odds into consideration, and she was pay dearly for it.

The boar grunted more fiercely as it made another attempt at running Anthea over, but the Swift young woman dived out of it path, only delaying what seemed inevitable.

She was indeed fearless, else she would have ran off for help, but she had come to prove a point, perhaps an assignment, that was about cost her life, but nonetheless, she was determined by some reason unknown to go through with this suicide act.

She made a quick glance at her spear lying in the dirt, gleaming in the sun, it seemed to be speaking to her to make haste, and so she did. As the boar came charging once more at this fearless beauty, she made a drastic dash for her spear, reaching it just moments away from a cruel fate, as the boar was just inches away.

Summoning great dexterity, she runs up the tree's stem, with fierce speed, rebounding off, making a quick turn in midair and landing on the back of the boar, same time, driving the spear straight through the head. A deep grunt accompanies, the ensuing panic, but within seconds, the falls to its side, the grunting gradually drowning out as it succumbs to the inevitable.