Ever since I was young, they told me my crescent-moon mark was beautiful. Special. Unique.

“The mark of Artemis!” they cried. “We have been blessed with a Hunter!”

Of course, I didn’t knew what they meant until Mother told me tales of brave Artemis and her Hunters, tracking and slaying monstrous beasts. They were intelligent, courageous, strong, and a dozen other powerful traits. But what fascinated me most was their immortality. Or, shall I say, half-immortality.

They could live forever, so long as they didn’t die in battle. Old age wouldn’t affect them like it would to normal mortals, so they would look as young as the day they pledged allegiance to Artemis forever until they died.

The village celebrated when I was born, for they believed Artemis favored them enough to give them a Hunter. And I foolishly believed that Artemis, goddess of the moon and huntress of the gods, would do me no harm.

But I was wrong. So very wrong.

*note*

Kay, I know that this has almost nothing to do with the prompt, but when I started it, I just kinda wrote without thinking. It ended up like that, so yeah.