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

But the risk was too great. Usually the girls put themselves to bed, but on a night like this one, the priestesses might take a head count. Korinna would guess where she was, if Elpis did not tell. Melisto steadied the knife in her hand. She gripped the harness and slid the knife under it, flat against the bear’s fur.

The bear squirmed. It never liked being interrupted when it was suckling, and its skin under the harness was tender. It understood that Melisto was not playing, but trying to interfere with it. It twisted free with such force that the rope skinned Melisto’s fingertips. She yelped and stuck her hand in her mouth. When she pursued the bear, it swiped at her with its left front paw, leaving a row of bleeding scratches on her leg.

The stable filled with white light. Melisto jumped when the thunder crackled. The bear ran and scurried up the post. Again the air glared white, and Melisto saw everything: the silver waterfall that rimmed the stable roof, the dark gleam of the iron chain, the bear’s panic-stricken eyes.

She hunkered down next to the stable wall. She wished she had thought to bring food for the bear. She might have distracted it, as the sacrificial animals were distracted. She banked the straw around her naked legs and waited, shivering and listening to the storm.

Time passed. The sound of the rain on the roof was no longer deafening. When Melisto heard the bear scrape-sliding down the post, she made herself keep still. She whispered, “Artemis.” Now that she was here, in the stable, she had no doubt what the goddess wanted. Patiently she waited for the bear to come.

It padded across the stable floor. First it checked its dish, flipping it with one paw and huffing with disappointment. Then it wandered over to sniff her. Melisto murmured love words and extended her arm, fingers drawn together. The bear licked her and fitted its mouth around her hand. She allowed it to suckle until it was almost asleep.

She meant to attack suddenly, taking the bear by surprise, but the bear sensed her decision even as it dozed. She attacked; it revolted; the two things happened simultaneously. She grabbed the harness and threw herself over the bear, straddling it, using her whole weight to hold it still. It screamed with outrage as she shoved the knife under the harness and sawed with all her might.

She could not hold the bear. It hauled itself out from under her, dragging her several feet across the stable floor. She could not hold the bear, but she kept her grip on the harness and the knife. She had gained an advantage: the bear was not only pulling against her, it was forcing the knife through the rope. As the bear writhed and fumed, the blade bit through the last strands.

The harness was cut, but the rope was still embedded in the bear’s fur. Melisto snatched at it. There was a noise like cloth tearing as the bear scrambled to its feet and yanked free.

Melisto stood up. She felt as if her whole body had been skinned raw. She flung down the knife. It hadn’t been an hour since she was afraid to touch it. Now she didn’t care what happened to it.

She stumbled to the stall door. The rain was falling lightly: a steady patter. “Come on!” she urged the bear. She shoved the stall door open, dragging it over the muddy ground. She flew straight ahead, into the rain, and the bear followed — whether because it viewed her as a mother or because it tracked her as a fleeing quarry, she did not know. She only knew that it was close behind her. Now she must lead it away from Brauron, beyond the boundaries of the sanctuary.

She ran. She, who had never liked running, who had always hated her clumsy slowness, ran as if her feet were winged. Her limbs were as tireless as a god’s; the blood rushed under her skin and she glowed. The bear, confined for months, ran alongside her. It bounced and curvetted, the hind paws overtaking the front paws with every stride. Melisto sketched a wide loop around the dormitories. When she crossed the bridge, she stopped and looked over her shoulder, not knowing if the bear could swim. The bear splashed into the spring and clambered up the bank. She shouted, “Bear!” and sprinted onward, leading it farther afield.

She dodged around trees and through the grassland. All at once she glimpsed the bay in the distance. Without thinking about it, she had brought the bear to her favorite place. She looked behind her and saw it was sniffing the roots of a tree. Soon it would begin a new life and find its own food. She called, “αρκτσς!” and it raised itself up and looked for her.

An idea stirred within her. She dragged her chiton over her head and stood naked and tingling in the rain. She raised her hands as if they were paws adorned with needle-sharp claws. Tipping her head back, she let the rain wash her: arms and nipples, neck and belly and thigh. A tension gathered in her throat and emerged as a growl; she bared her teeth and felt the hair on her arms spring erect.

She pounded the wet ground with her muddy feet and shook her arms, swaying. She was dancing, and she was a Bear, one of the goddess’s own. She had no need to stop and think what step came next. She could not make a mistake. She was aware that the bear was watching her, and the rain had intensified. The storm was strengthening around her.

Then the sky split, like a thin plate shattering: each fragment edged with white fire. The thunder that followed was earsplitting. Melisto sprang straight up in the air. She rushed downhill, heading for the strand, where