The mist wrapped thick around her ankles, like some overly attentive cat.
Long quiet steps,
bare feet on concrete.
Daphne made her swift way down the dim alley. Every moment she remained sang with exquisite danger and thrummed with paramortal fear.
Moments of movement,
free from chthonic feet.
His sister had to have seen her. His servants would seek her.
Lead within her chest,
slid from fear to thrill.
Smiling fierce she pressed.
He would always hunt her. Though the earth became her captor, she remained, at least, free from he.
Her curse could be unrung,
on certain fogged nights.
Still, at least, was he, tethered to the Sun.
The Moon Maiden loosed her shot, sent her arrow fletched in radiance. Daphne in defiance threw up her arms and planted her feet.
Moonlight lit the laurel tree.