Cora was terrified. The trees were against her. The world was against her. The very air, once deliciously fragrant, now heavy and choking for her rapid breath. She looked helplessly at Apollo to do something. His silhouette against the morning light was more ghostly and insubstantial than throughout the night. The light from the sun seemed to magnify and reflect from him, so that his skin glowed an ivory moon. How had she become lost in him so quickly: knowing so little, being so different.

“I don’t want to be turned into a white stag,” Cora said. “What are we going to do, Apollo?”

“Nothing bad will happen to you. As long as you are not seen with me. It will go better for you if we part ways for now.”

“Part ways? Do you mean you’re going to leave me here in the wilderness in a world I don’t belong? And without even breakfast, I might add!”

The light was so bright she could barely make out his features anymore. Was he laughing at her, or in tears? She couldn’t bear the silence, and pressed on:

“Did last night mean so much less to you than it did to me?

“I will protect you, always.”

“Don’t go!” The words locked, but always breaking free. “Please don’t go!”

Blinding the radiance, a nova of light like a sunspot echoing through her eyes. She rubbed them and could see the outline of the bones in her hand from the brightness. And then it was gone — and then he was gone — the morning sun returned to the sky. Cora rubbed her eyes with her hands, bitter beyond words.

“Don’t go, don’t go,” she muttered.

This adventure turned out not to be an escape. She was not a new girl, after all. She was the same old fool who believed every smile and promise, casually given, and casually lost.

Cora had done her best not to think about her mistakes, but here in the wild tangled trees with their leering faces… old thoughts came tumbling to bury her and send her to her knees. Apollo had been no different than Konstantin after all. She had spoken those words first to him, begging him not to go after he was satisfied with her. And the worst thing about it was, the humiliation of asking for love which could only be freely given. She never really loved Konstantin, but she still begged for him to stay, because Cora needed to be loved.

Cora didn’t care about the whispering faces of the nymphs in the trees anymore. On her knees in defeat, she cradled her right hand in her left. She remembered what it felt like to only hold his hand a little while, and how much more she would have felt if he had only stayed. But maybe she didn’t really love Apollo either. Maybe she only needed to be loved, and thought the love of a God would give her a value that she could not find for herself.

“Don’t go, don’t go.” In a sing-song voice now.

Of course the answer must be to love yourself first. But as brave as she felt she had been with her feelings, she was not brave enough for that. She had been a fool too many times to forgive. She had known her wicked, petty thoughts that only she can know. She laughed at herself thinking how jealous she was of the white stag which Apollo might be going to even now.

The whisper of the wind in the trees was growing louder again. Cora looked up into the green eyes of the nymph carved into the tree. She was sure a face hadn’t been in that particular tree right beside before, but now the red leaves that were lips parted with a sigh.

“Oh you poor thing.”

“Don’t pretend this isn’t your fault!” Cora was too angry to be frightened. She didn’t even bother to rise from her knees.

“Hera instructed us, and we obeyed. That is the way of things here.”

“I thought Zeus was in charge of Olympus.”

“Technically, I suppose.” The nymphs chattered and laughed through the leaves. “Unless Zeus has been caught with another mortal, as he was again last week. Then we know that Hera will be in charge. At least until the next council of the Gods.”

“What’s it, ah…” Cora blushed and paused. “What’s it like for a mortal to be with a God? Nothing bad happens to the mortal, does it? Physically, I mean. They don’t burn up in a puff of smoke, do they?”

The leaves were a hurricane of laughter. When it seemed they would not answer, Cora asked:

“What’s Hera so jealous about anyway? If she thinks so little of mortals, why should she care what Zeus does for fun?”

Cora mentally congratulated herself on how tolerant that made her sound. Although of course she understood Hera perfectly well, and would have done the same to Apollo had she ever caught him.

“Because mortals are a threat to her,” the nymph whispered conspiratorially.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Hush Meliae!” Another tree hissed. “We are Hera’s servants, after all. We would not betray her secrets.”

“I’m sorry, Oreads,” Meliae said from beside her. “There is no reason Hera should fear mortals. They are dust in the wind.”

“What is Hera going to do with me, exactly?”

“Nothing much, dear. As long as she doesn’t catch you with one of the Gods, she will send you on your way back home.”

“I haven’t got a home anymore. Nowhere I want to go back to,” Cora said.

“Then you will find a home among your own kind.” The wind sighed with compassionate.

“So Apollo was right to leave. I am safer this way.”

“Apollo does what Hera says. If she says mortals are forbidden fruit, then you will rot of age before you’re plucked.”

“So he always does what his mother says, is that it?” Cora rose from her knees at last, turning in a slow circle to look at all the nymphs. There must be two dozen faces at least, all watching her and murmuring to each other.

“He is a good son, but now more than usual.” The second nymph Oreads laughed. “Apollo and Poseidon have been competing in a tournament of challenges for their father’s favor. They have been at each other’s throats for the last hundred years now, and it is finally coming to a close. Apollo would not commit himself to this competition so fiercely for so long, only to throw it away by angering Hera. With Zeus so fearful of Hera, and Hera so intent against mortals, there is no possibility of your love coming to bloom.”

“Who said anything about love?” Cora asked testily.

“And who could blame you if you did?” The soft murmur, an ocean wave. “Who could be more glorious than Apollo, God of the sun? Who else would you more long to touch, than feel the warmth of healing that is his gift? A gentle soul, Apollo is known for his music and song, but his words are no idle things. For in them too bears prophecy, a foresight to know what even the wisest Gods are blind to. Who could not love the light that shines from him?”

Meliae sighed. And with her the sigh of half the forest, nymphs swaying in their own wind. It seemed to Cora that the forest itself was in love with Apollo. She felt like such a fool for thinking his spell on her had been for her alone. He had his choice of any mortal or Goddess who looked upon him. The warmth of his touch was not a magic connection, but simply the healing that flows from his aura. And she felt like a stupid little girl to be swept away in such an impossible fantasy.

Yet in Cora glowed too a secret hope, that she dared not voice, even in her own mind, for fear of it melting with the light. For Apollo when leaving said ‘I will always protect you’. His words are not idle things, said the nymph, but they are bound in prophecy. How could he offer such a blessing without love to hold him to his word?

“The poor thing.” Meliae laughs. Cora doesn’t care.

“I’m not going back down.” Cora smiles defiantly back at them, shielded by her secret hope. “You’re not going to tell Hera that I’m mortal.” Then shouting: “Not a single one of you!” into the listening forest.

“And what will we tell her?” Meliae asks in a conspiratorial whisper, red leaves trembling with excitement.

“You’ll say that I’m a nymph.” Cora crosses her arms stubbornly. “You’ll say that I’ve been turned into a woman by Poseidon, who was trying to use me to play a trick on Apollo. I wanted nothing to do with the plan, and you can all confirm that you know me as Cora, the immortal nymph. Someone who belongs to stay here, just like the rest of you.”

“You are too friendly with this girl,” Oreads scolds. “We will do nothing to anger Hera.” The branches of the tree swayed in a threatening manner.

“There is no harm in this game,” Meliae laughs. “We feel for the girl, don’t we sisters? We will keep her secret from Hera.” The whisper rattled the branches. “And in return!” Meliae says, even louder. “You will bring us Apollo’s walking staff. A simple stick, he would never miss it, once he has you in his sight.”

The whisper was a storm again. The branches overhead dipped so low to the ground, the whole trunk swaying to sweep their upper boughs across the earth. Cora thought they might be attacking her for a moment, before realizing this was a sort of dance. It spread form Meliae to the others, all bending in different directions, shaking leaves into a blizzard. Even Oreads joined in, swinging and thrashing and celebrating with the rest.

Then Cora heard it too: the faint music which the nymphs were dancing to. A simple melody of a plucking lyre. Rising and falling, but returning always to a lower beat which stirred the hearts of the nymphs and drove them into dance. It was softly sweet in its longing, a grief full of beauty, a heart content not being whole.

The music soon faded again, but the nymphs kept dancing for several minutes to the sound only they could hear. When the wind of their whirling stills, the whisper returns to say:

“We will keep your secret, girl. Your prophecy has not yet been told.”

Apollo was known for his music. Was this him protecting her now?

“Do not forget the walking stick,” Oreads grumbled.

“I will do my best!” Cora promised.

Cora could see Hera’s crown before she saw the woman. A star on earth caught the light of the morning sun and held it within its giant diamond. The crown seemed to float through the air, not quite touching the perfectly straight black hair, which fell as an iron curtain to protect her eloquent neck. The approaching Goddess also seemed to float, taking the motion of steps, but never quite reaching the ground. Cora had never imagined such a beautiful creature in her life. But not quite beautiful like a woman, but more beautiful like a tiger, muscular and poised, stored destruction ready to be unleashed.

“Are you the reason for the alarm?” Hera asked Cora. If Apollo was simply afraid of his mother, then Cora couldn’t fault him anymore. Her words were a noose around Cora’s neck, tightening her throat into a pinhole of air.

“The alarm was a mistake,” Oreads was the first nymph to speak. Then repeating Cora’s story, told Hera that Cora was the victim of Poseidon’s trick.

“The girl is not to blame,” Meliae added. “Cora, the wood nymph, is one of our sisters, and your faithful servants. There are no mortals here.”

Hera nodded, and immediately the pressure of her presence relaxed enough for Cora to breathe. She touched her neck with her fingers, gingerly in case there was an unseen wound. Her skin was whole, but she was shaken to her core.

“I think we will all be relieved when their stupid competition is over,” Hera snapped.

“Your watch for the night is over, nymphs. Come, it is time to prepare the feast. We will see what trial Zeus has prepared for his sons today, and celebrate the glory of his power he has given them.”

Cora was in. She was going to be staying at Olympus now. She as going to live in the same palace as Apollo. She would see him about her day, and they would have all the time in the world to find themselves alone. And perhaps most magical of all, the idea of a waiting feast, to drink the nectar of the Gods and forget she ever was mortal at all.