Jub the satyr stepped lightly, quietly, along the faint path. He made no noise maneuvering around dry leaves and other fallen debris created from winter. The glade was not far ahead and he saw sunlight streaming through the open space in the heavily-wooded forest. This glade belonged to Azarah the nymph and Jub hoped to 'accidentally' run into her.
The glade sat just below the foothills of Mount Olympus and warm weather was coursing through the Greek countryside. Persephone had returned to the land and brought the beauty of Spring with her. For Jub, warm weather meant the nymphs would be out. And nymphs meant the chance for some light entertainment.
And speaking of nymphs, there Azarah was! Jub couldn't see her yet but his fur prickled in response to the strong singing voice floating through the trees. Jub's brethren preferred the high pitched voices of most nymphs but Azarah's voice, raspy and low, drew him like a siren's song.
He stopped just inside the treeline at the edge of the glade to fix his hair. He scraped a bit of dirt off his horns and straightened his tunic. He kicked at the trunk of a thick oak to knock remnants of mud off his hooves. Spiffy, confident, he emerged into the sunlight.
The singing stopped immediately.
"Zeus curse you!" Azarah yelled at him. Her tone was considerably colder than when she was singing. She swam away from him to the far end of the pool centered in the glade. Her lithe body slid through the water and her long silver hair trailed behind her. Jub felt desire rush through him at the glimpse of her light green skin, velvety-soft, disappearing behind a half-submerged rock.
"You looked quite beautiful, fair nymph," Jub called out, "And I have come to woo you!"
"A satyr wooing anyone?" she retorted, "That's a laugh. You're here for one thing, satyr, and you'll not be having it."
Jeb frowned, his body reacting to her nakedness even as she was concealed.
"It has been a cold, dry winter for me, nymph," he explained, "And I have needs. Certainly you can respect the call of nature. Instinct demands I obey nature and take care of my needs."
"Are you threatening me?" she demanded, cold fury in her voice.
"Not a threat, my lovely," Jub said, feeling his attempted seduction slipping out of control, "An ... encouragement." He stepped into into the warm sunlight of the glade and moved toward her end of the pool.
"I'm not your anything, foul creature!" Azarah retorted, "Here's encouragement to leave me alone!"
She grabbed a nearby rock and hurled it at him. Jub was forced to duck, startled by Azarah's accuracy. He glanced left and right of the pool trying to figure the shorter way to get to her.
Azarah lifted her fingers to her mouth and blew a sharp two-tone whistle. Jub was treated to a glimpse of a perfectly curved breast when her hand moved. His arousal died immediately, though, when a very large and very angry minotaur emerged from the trees on the far side of the glade.
I thought they were still fighting that war with the humans at Achaea, Jub thought. Even if that were true this particular minotaur was very much ready to fight a war with him here in this glade.
"You!" the minotaur bellowed at him, "Go! Do not come back!"
Jub needed no further motivation. He fled, angry at being rebuffed and hurt at the rejection. After all the natural order of things was for satyrs to have needs and for nymphs to satisfy them. Not this time, though.
Umak, the minotaur, smiled once he was satisfied the satyr was indeed gone. He looked away from Azarah, respectful of her nudity, and scanned the treeline. The birds resumed their chirping and things were noisy and normal again. Umak, skilled in tracking, didn't detect any animal sounds alerting to the presence of other trouble-makers. He listened to the sound of Azarah emerging from the water and donning her clothes. He turned to face her when he was certain she was dressed.
Azarah stood before him in all her radiance. She was tall for a nymph and had grace unmatched in this part of the forest. She wore a simple gray shift, with golden threads woven through the hem at her knees. She smiled at him, her brown eyes glittering with merriment, her straight white teeth in stark contrast to her kelly green skin.
How quickly this one recovers from that horrid Jub, Umak thought to himself. Joy poured from Azarah now that she had her glade and her forest back from the interloper.
"My hero," she said sweetly. Umak waved the comment away, feeling like Jub had gotten away with catching an eyeful. The satyr was simply more agile than he was and Umak couldn't make good on pursuit through the forest.
Azarah was about to make a joke in thanks to Umak's efforts when Umak's head snapped up and to the left. He squinted, his eyes probing the undergrowth.
"Did you ...?" he started to ask.
Azarah hissed a shush at him and nodded. She didn't hear so much as feel the scream of the tree. Someone was chopping wood. She focused her attention and could now pick up the rhythmic thwok of axe-work. It hurt her, cuts made on her soul, to know someone was cutting into a living being. A tree. In this woods.
Her tree. In HER woods.
Umak felt it too. He hunched over, shrinking his bulky profile, and moved in the direction of the sound with battleaxe at the ready. Azarah watched him stalk his prey and gave praise to Ares for Umak's skill. She did so quietly, though, since she preferred to not have the attentions of satyrs, much less the God of War.
She gave Umak a twenty-count head start and crept after him, flitting between the trees, remaining nearly invisible in the woods. She found soon Umak toe-to-to with a human. They were speaking quietly but the angry cloud of conflict hovered in the air. Both had placed their axes on the ground in a show of non-aggression but their stances indicated neither was opposed to a fight.
"The Archon has given me rights to this section of the woods," the man, tall and well-muscled for a human, was explaining, "I'll mark the boundaries and respect your side." He stood close to Umak, unafraid of the minotaur trying to intimidate him.
"You fail to respect any of the wood when you destroy the living trees," Umak rumbled, "And the Archon has given you what is not his to give. You will leave," Umak enunciated. Azarah thrilled at the gravel-sound of his command. This was a voice to be obeyed.
"No."
"Then, I will ensure you leave," Umak responded, taking a step back and picking his heavy war axe up off the ground, "And I will take your arms before you do. You will not hurt another tree after this."
The woodsman hefted his own weapon and spoke, his voice a rich baritone full of confidence, "You are invited to try, bullman, but I have taken five heads from warriors of your race. You don't look half as skilled as they were."
The self-assurance in the human's voice caught Azarah's attention. No one in this region had stood up against Umak. The denizens of the woods heeded Umak's word, though he didn't go out of his way to be a bully. He looked evenly matched here despite being taller and heavier. The human had also casually insulted him with the 'bullman' remark. Azarah imagined Jub using that word and shivered at the violence that would have ensued. This felt different. She did not want to rescue the minotaur even if it seemed like he needed it now. His pride wouldn't accept it but his grip of the situation was loosening. Unfortunately, action was required here.
Azarah stepped from her hiding place into view. Both human and minotaur turned toward the movement.
The human's eyes went wide, then narrowed. Umak looked crestfallen that Azarah felt the need to intercede on his behalf. Their hostility focused on her now.
She breathed to calm herself and walked toward the two. This would end right now.
"Human," she spoke, carefully selecting her words, "I know you have friends you would not want to see hurt."
She waited for his acknowledgement. He nodded after a moment.
"These," she gestured around her with graceful, sinuous arms, "Are my friends. I wouldn't see them hurt. Now, as Umak has told you, we are outside the bounds of the Archon's reach and this is not his land, nor was it ever. He has no claim here. You must see you're wrong."
"The Archon," the human said, turning to face her, "Can award any land to anyone on the peninsula. The whole of this region is his and perhaps he has left you unmolested until now. But now is now. This is mine."
Jub, hidden behind the budding leaves of an oregano bush, watched the scene with great interest. After Umak threatened him earlier, Jub had scampered to his hollow oak home, grabbed his bow, and came back to avenge himself of insult. He was surprised to see a human in this part of the woods and he had taken no action now, allowing the scene to play out. At first he had hoped the human and minotaur would do battle. Jub had never fought a war but there were enough songs about great conquests to make them sound interesting. Perhaps they'd fight, ideally resulting with that hideous Umak dead or dying. Jub may even be in a position to finish the half-bull off. He eased the quiver of arrows off his shoulder and onto the grass. Silent, he reached for an arrow, still spying while human and minotaur quarreled.
Then she came into view. The very air was torn from Jub's lungs. He had wandered the lands of Greece and beyond and he had never found a being with the grace and elegance of Azarah. She was perfection, breathed into life. This changed everything and while he still wished to see blood, Jub now had the chance to use his new treasure. The gods rewarded his patience with opportunity.
He remained hidden, silent and patient, observing the drama unfold and paying particular attention to how Azarah's shift clung to her hips.
"Perhaps we started the wrong way," the human said, "My name is Thomas Treefeller."
"I do not care to know your name, human," Azarah replied, "I do care that we find a resolution. That resolution does not include slaughtering trees. They are our friends and need not die." She nodded toward Umak, "Though it may end in your own destruction. This friend, unlike our trees, swings an axe too."
