It happened one day while Actaeon, son of king Kadmus, hunted with his friends and companions, the youth from the palace, that late afternoon found them equally distant not only from their home, but also from the end of the hunt.
So it was that Actaeon bade his friends stop, for the day was almost done. "Our weapons and nets are drenched with the blood of our kill," he said. "Let us clean and sharpen them so that, on the morrow, we can continue the hunt anew, refreshed and ready. we have sported enough for one day."
A short time later, Actaeon, restless and excited from the thrill of the day's hunt, arose from his sleeping skins and took himself into the forest alone, mayhap to find tranquility amongst the songs of the nightbirds, the quiet rippling of the nearby stream, the soft caress of the evening breeze through the leaves and bushes.
It came to pass that, having gone some fair distance from the encampment, that sounds of laughter from tiny voices and the splashing of water caught his ear.
Curious, he pushed his way through the brush until, cautiously parting some branches near to a pool, he gazed upon a scene of wonder and beauty that not only caught his breath, but roused in him feelings he had not experienced for many a day.
For there, frolicking in the pool, diving beneath the surface of the pale blue water and standing beneath a cascading waterfall were five--nay!--six young maidens with skin as white as ivory, and long black hair that clung like tendrils to the smoothness of their wet bodies.
And, as he watched in the glowing sunset, there appeared a more wondrous sight---a woman beautiful and tall, standing a good head taller than those who sported in the pool. She it was who strode from a nearby cave, her form wrapped with a loose-fitting garment of white cloth, her feet shod with sandals of leather, while in her hands she carried a bow and quiver of arrows.
Actaeon grew short of breath, his eyes drinking in the loveliness of the woman who stood not more than ten feet before him, and yet he kept himself well-hidden in the brush.
So taken by her beauty, the gracefulness of her form, the striking musculature of her arms that he felt his ardor rise and within moments his manhood pained to be released from the confinement of his loincloth.
For a moment he turned from the scene before him and loosened his cloth. Hard and swollen, its length throbbing with desire, his staff sprang free.
Once more he parted the bushes with his hand, once more gazed he upon the beauteous creature beyond.
Now she sat upon a rock and gave her bow and quiver of arrows to one of the nymphettes who attended her. Another bent down and loosened the sandals, drew them from the huntress' feet.
