Amber and Clay by Laura Schlitz (phonics books txt) 📕

the blood in a bowl, to cut up the carcass, to impale chunks of raw meat onto skewers for the feast. She did not like it, but she willed herself not to flinch. The sacrifice was for Artemis. It was an honor for the animal to be sacrificed, and an honor for her to stand by.

On other nights, the altar was used as a finish line for races by torchlight. Strong though she was, Melisto was not built for speed, but running with fire excited her, and she jumped up and down and screamed with the other girls.

The races strengthened the girls for one of the most vital of their duties. As Bears of Artemis, they marked the boundaries of the sanctuary with their naked feet. They were wild and pure, and Brauron was the borderland of civilized Athens: if the frontier remained holy, the core would hold. By circumscribing the boundaries of the sanctuary, the Bears safeguarded the city.

So they ran, following Korinna’s torch: beginning at the altar and spiraling around the sanctuary buildings. They crossed the stone bridge and beat a trail through the wetland, filling the air with their moist breath, flattening the dew-soaked grass. They carved a path through the trees, sometimes circling the low akropolis or passing down to the bay where the ships were anchored. In their early days at Brauron, the girls ran in short sprints, stumbling, wheezing, halting. By the next full moon, their pace had quickened; they had grown sure-footed and hardy. Even Melisto thudded along steadily, her fists clenched, her eyes fixed on Korinna’s torch. Somehow, she managed to keep up.

More difficult for her were the dancing nights. The girls sang hymns and paraded toward the altar, bearing wreaths and palm leaves tied with ribbons. Their movements, stately at first, grew wilder; they spun like tops and leapt into the air, arms outstretched. Melisto was self-conscious when she danced. She could not lose herself. She felt as if her feet were caught in a net.

The most difficult dance was the Bear Dance, the oldest and most sacred dance of all. It was composed of subtle gestures and circling steps, and the sequence was baffling. A girl who mastered the Bear Dance would find favor with the goddess; Artemis would protect her during childbirth. Melisto knew that her survival might someday hinge on how she danced the Bear Dance, but that only kept her from learning it. She watched jealously as the other girls practiced, holding their hands like claws. Sometimes a girl was possessed by the spirit of the bear and threw off her tunic to dance naked, no longer a child, but a wild animal, one of Artemis’s own. Melisto averted her eyes from the ecstatic girls. She could not imagine dancing like that.

She was happiest on the nights when Korinna led the girls down to the bay so they could bathe in the water. The children raced across the narrow beach, breathless and damp from running. Melisto splashed and squealed with the rest, but as soon as she could, she broke away from them, going deeper into the bay. She knelt down until the water lapped her chin, and let the small waves lift her, so that she was half afloat. She stared. The sky was flecked with stars, and the moon scattered white light over the water. When the black waves crested, there was glitter and foam and a noise like breathing. Melisto fell into a trance. She spread her arms and bobbed up and down, weightless. Something frantic and trapped inside her was laid to rest. She became invisible to herself. She knew only the rhythm of the rising waves, and the taste of salt on her lips.

5. THE BEAR

“What has sharp claws and feet like a baby?”

Melisto sat on the curving branch of her favorite olive tree. Elpis reached up and tickled her feet. “What has sharp claws and feet like a baby?”

Melisto sighed. She wished she had never taught the younger girl about riddles.

“What has feet like a baby’s, but sharp — ”

“I heard you the first time.” Melisto swung down from the tree. She reviewed her knowledge of animal feet. Most tame animals had hooves, not claws; hawks and owls had talons; foxes and dogs had round paws. She remembered Elpis’s love for rabbits and tossed out, “A rabbit.”

“Rabbit feet are tiny. The animal I’m talking about has big feet.” Elpis’s eyes gleamed: there was nothing she liked better than baffling Melisto. She held her hands apart. “Wide and fat.”

Melisto eyed the space between her hands. “A goose.”

“Geese don’t have claws.”

Geese did not have claws. “A tortoise, then.” Melisto recalled the tortoise that lived in Arkadios’s courtyard. Its feet were round, tipped with horny nails. “That’s what it is! A tortoise.”

“It’s not a tortoise. Do you give up?” Elpis waited; Melisto did not concede. “It’s a bear! I’ve seen it! It’s a baby bear, and it sits on its bottom like a baby, and its feet are wide and fat, but the claws are like needles. Korinna has scratch marks. She made the men take the muzzle off. She says we girls have to keep away from it, because in the Brauron story, a bear killed that girl and — ”

“Where is it?” interrupted Melisto. She had once seen a painted bear on a jar. It was something like a wild cat with a pig snout.

“It’s chained up in the stable. A pair of hunters brought it. For sacrifice. In honor of Artemis. They killed the mother and chased the cubs into a net. They brought them in a sack, but one of them died. We can look in the stall, but we can’t go in.”

Melisto broke into a run. She expected Elpis to dash past her; Elpis was light on her feet and could easily outrun her. But once they had cleared the strip of woods, Elpis spotted two other girls and veered off to share her news with them.