While I have a few minutes of down time I thought to post an additional chapter. I'd like to say that I can return to a regular habit of a chapter every few days but I just don't know. Writing and posting Atalanta's Story has been a type of therapy so I appreciate that you like the story. I also want to thank Bill Durr who encouraged me and Ashleigh.

Atalanta, Sam, Nikki, and Hank visit the Medawhiia tribe and as usual something happens unexpected. As usual Atalanta finds herself in the mix of something she didn't start.

Chapter 24

“I’m sorry you got stuck showing me the reservation,” I said as Nikki and I we walked towards Poe to wait until Sam was finished.

“No problem,” she waved off my apology, “I’ve wanted to see Eloise and Ben but just couldn’t seem to find the time.”

“What do you suppose they are talking about,” I inquired and then laughed at Nikki’s raised eyebrow. “Yeah I know it has something to do with me, but what have I done now?”

“What have you done now?” Nikki echoed as we walked through the door at Poe, “I have no idea what kind of mischief you’ve been up to today,” she mocked.

“Haven’t you heard the latest,” Ayla spoke up from Kimba corner where he was lounging with the rest of the team.

Why, what did you hear,” Nikki teased.”

“Well girl what I heard was...bad, but I defended you. No way I said, even she wouldn't do that...you didn’t, did you.”

“Yeah I kind of blew up Circe's magic door,” I replied followed by a round of laughter the loudest coming from Nikki and Ayla.

“Oh come on dish out the dirt.”

I then recounted the tale drawing an outrageous revue of events,

“So,” Nikki replied dabbing at her tears, “you blew up her door,” her voice straining to talk past her laughter, “and then offered to build her a new one. It’s a wonder she didn’t give you a new one,” stressing the last three words.

“Hey,” I declared, “it was an accident.”

“I’m beginning to wonder,” Jade howled through tears of laughter, “if Whateley will survive three years of you.”

“That’s not fair,” I pouted poking a finger in Jade’s rib, causing her to erupt into more laughter.

“Atalanta, don’t let them get to you,” Hank his tone soft, “it could happen to anybody,” he continued a smile playing at the corners of his mouth revealing a cute little dimple in his cheeks.

Whoa where had that thought come from?

“…Not. No kidding,” he grinned as his dimples deepened, “Atalanta you are one of a kind.”

“It will be different for Mrs. Carson to be riding someone besides us,” declared Chou.

“Exactly how did you manage it,” Billie asked me.

“I’d like to know that myself.” Sam had just walked in through the threshold and quickly continued, “You ready to go,” she asked me.

“Oh, no it is the hole for you.”

“Don’t worry we’ll bake a cake and put a file in it,” another person declared.

“It’ll be over before you know it,” Jade jeered, grinning.

“Knock it off,” Sam commanded, adding, “You ready Nikki?”

The comments that followed include jibes at me for leading poor Nikki astray before Sam restored order. In the silence that followed, Hank’s words echoed loudly.

“Would you mind if I came along?” Sam shrugging told me and Nikki to get ready while she called Mrs. Carson for the okay.

Samantha Everheart grinned as she walked beside the two girls and Hank as they kept up a constant stream of chatter. She was surprised that Mrs. Carson had approved Hank to accompany them. The question in her mind was what had prompted Hank to ask.

She got real enjoyment as Atalanta introduced Fey and Hank to Mr. Hawthorn formally. Fey executed her part exchanging pleasantries with the old tree as if they were long lost kin. Hank watched with Sam, from a distance.

When we had resumed walking I asked Sam, “So how bad was I drawn and quartered?”

“Bad enough but I predict you’ll survive,” Samantha smirked.

“What other choice do I have?”

“Just one,” Sam parried before adding, “You know you’re doing nothing to ease anyone’s perception of you, don’t you?”

“Does it matter?”

Sam shrugged, “Probably not.”

The air was crisp and sunny not a cloud in the sky though each of us wore a light jacket against the chill. Even though it was unseasonably warm the threat of winter in New England was very real.

Hank fell into step beside me while Sam and Nikki led the way.

“What was it like for you,” I asked softly.

“What was what like,” he returned whispering.

“The whole sex change thing: and growing up as a girl.”

Hank turned his head to see if I was serious, “Funny nobody has asked me that,” he returned wistful, “and you would think with as many male to females somebody would be curious.”

“It could be,” I replied lightly, “that they felt it was a downgrade to be turned into a girl: maybe jealous.”

“It maybe that,” he laughed softly, “but to your question; if I answer yours, you have to answer one for me.”

I nodded, “Deal.”

“Expectations,” he began, “it was about expectations … and reputation. Almost all little girls have expectations of Prince Charming; a white knight saving the damsel in distress. Getting married and our wedding day and the perfect dress and having babies,” he intoned in a sing song voice as his eyes looked to a far off horizon.

“Sorry,” he said shaking his head, “… anyway those expectations no longer apply and I have to set new expectations. If I had my choice I would have remained a girl,” he concluded.

“Me too,” I replied, “I would have chosen to remain as a boy but I can’t say I’m unhappy in this body either. I have a lot of new friends and my Mom and Manny helped me to set expectations, though to be truthful my expectations as a boy were more inferred than talked about. But I don’t understand why that would be that way.”

“I think I can help with that,” Hank responded. “Traditionally women are the caretakers of the family; they are the ones that organize family reunions, give support to the ones that are experiencing grief and loss. The keepers of family lore and heirlooms and the ones that remembered important dates and brought flowers for those that have passed on.” He paused to let the information sink in, “Women hold the family unit together because they are the ones that have babies and it’s very important to remember that the man can leave, deny being the father; the woman cannot. We have that responsibility for life. So a lot of energy is spent on the effect of choices and expectations.”

“Wow,” I interjected, “Mom and I had the talk but it never went into that detail.”

“I’d be surprised if she did,” Hank assured me, “Mine was reinforced almost daily by my Mom, girl cousins, aunts, and classmates as I grew up.”

“So you fit in, and didn’t feel out of place?” I asked as we descended deeper into the forest.

“Not at all, what about you what was it like growing up as a boy?”

I gave that considerable thought before answering, “I grew up an Army brat like you and I didn’t make many friends. Our relatives were strewn all over the country so I didn’t bond with any cousins: boy or girl. I was expected to stay out of trouble, get good grades, and go to college. That’s about it,” I shrugged.

“You never felt out of place or wondered what being a girl was like?”

“I felt out of place at school, where the other students had a history with their classmates. Dad was gone most of the time, I had few friends but no long term ones, so most of the time it was Mom and me. I like to read and learn new things and when we got to a new base Mom would take me around the historical sites. I liked comics, online role playing games and swimming. I pretty much hung around the house, helped Mom and entertained myself.”

“You know,” I continued, “We both changed before, at, or during puberty so in a sense other than appearances and mentally, we were never fully our birth sex.”

“Yeah,” Hank agreed, “If we had changed at 17 or 18 and fully developed I can see us having more problems adjusting.”

“I just thought of another expectation…,baby!” I exclaimed snapping my fingers. Hank cocked an eyebrow at me; smiling.

“No, you blockhead,” I snapped. “As a boy we were expected to suck it up and if we didn’t …”

“You were labeled a sissy,” he cried beaming.

Humph! Men really are clueless.

“Wrong!” Hank’s smile disappeared replaced by lines creasing his forehead. “But don’t feel bad most men wouldn’t get it either,” I teased smiling while wondering at my choice to massage his male ego.

“I’ll give you another hint,” I smirked.

“…Hints,” He snorted and countered smiling, “What is with girls never coming to the point.”

“If you guys would shut up and listen,” I parried, “we wouldn’t have to hint. We could just come tell you, but then it will just go over your head so we have to let you think it was your idea.”

“If you girls didn’t always have to get the last word in …”

“We do not.”

“Do.”

“Do not.”

“Settle down back there,” Sam growled grinning.

“Where were we?” Hank asked mumbling.

“Dare you to say that fast ten times,” I laughed.

“No thanks, once was hard enough.”

“I was giving you an expectation that boys are expected to suck it up and be a man and the name you’d be called if you didn’t and you said …”

“Sissy,” he grinned at me.

“And I said wrong. Tell me something Hank, growing up, what soft cuddly name did your parents call you? I’ll give you a hint; it wasn’t sissy.”

“Baby,” he cried triumphantly.

“Bingo,” I exclaimed adding, “for boys it is a singular pejorative as in “a baby” but for girls it is a collective compliment as in baby girl.”

“That is an interesting thought on expectations we grow up with,” Hank mused, “and just one example of the changes on perspectives we changelings go through.”

I agreed.

“Now I have to get all worked up and offended and beat up on anybody that calls me a baby,” he threatened. I grinned at his use of hyperbole. “And you …”

“And me,” I prompted.

“And you dream about your wedding day and the perfect dress and making babies.”

My belly did flip-fops and the blood drained briefly from my extremities, the hot denial dying in it’s infancy. Other than Mom’s warning about pregnancy this issue of love, marriage, and a family had not been a topic we discussed. It was not even on my radar.

But it was now.

I quickly checked in on my body’s response to those ideas and the lack of negative feedback unnerved my self-image.

Concerned at my lack of response Hank spoke, “Atalanta I didn’t …”

“You didn’t,” I interrupted, “why do you think I took self-defense training? I just had never connected marriage with it; that’s all.”

“Good, it is a lot to take in.”

“It is,” I agreed and went returned to the task at hand.

The forest journey went quickly; and I was surprised at the green still left on the undergrowth and the maturity in this part of the forest. In some points briars and bushes threatened progress, in others the canopy of branches were high enough and the hardwood spaced far apart enough to conduct battles on.

The forest was full of life both with chlorophyll or blood coursing their veins, watching the intruders silently, the flesh and blood ilk watching at a distance.

I noticed our heading as due north, except for a detour to the east of a couple hundred yards, and then back on the due north heading. I didn't say anything but I felt tingling on my shoulder and filed it for later exploration.

Nikki stopped at the top of a rise as we viewed the town laid out on the valley; a meandering stream in the distance crisscrossing dropping down the from the sheer granite cliffs that hemmed in the town from the north. More of the mountain range poked at the sky farther west and south. While to the east and southeast the sod rolled in a series of undulations towards Whateley, Dunwich and eventually Berlin.

Chimney smoke drifted lazily in the afternoon air; below traffic was increasing most of it foot traffic, or horse drawn wagons, though the occasional automobile or more often trucks prowled the streets. Overall it felt and looked no different than a thousand other small towns in America. It had one main street that intersected with side streets that ran north and south warranting only a blinking caution light.

At the far end of the intersection perched a gas station repair shop and blacksmith. Across the street was the veterinary with the medical clinic located next door. Beside the clinic were the town hall/ tribal council building and across the street sat the general store containing mostly hardware and hunting/fishing supplies.

I also saw a department store that sold clothing and household goods, a grocery store and electronics. Past the intersection I saw an attorney's office, a craftsman supply, a building supply and an electrician and plumber business. I had a better view from the hillside than I had from ground level on Monday.

Across the street and on their side of the road was most likely town maintenance judging from the equipment scattered here and there, with the jail and tribal deputy’s office lining up next. Farther to the west a small red brick school building rested serenely in the morning light. Farther still, but close enough to take advantage of the stream's fall from the cliff a huge waterwheel was erected that served to grind flour and meal as well as serve as a backup power station. On either side of the streets laid out neatly were plots of land and housing.

“They are expecting us,” Nikki declared, “Let's go on down.

We followed a worn path across a foot bridge that led to an intersecting street which Nikki turned on, and stopped at the third residence before walking up to the door. Before she could knock the door opened and a middle age, tall, athletic woman walked out on the porch walking with cat-like grace. Beside her was a wide-shouldered, barrel-chested bear of a man.

“Welcome Your Highness.”

Your Highness?

“It's Nikki,” she corrected softly, “You know Sam?” Eloise and Ben nodded.

“This is Atalanta,” she continued pointing at me.

“Glad to meet you,” I said.

“You look … just as I had you pictured,” Eloise drawled, her eyes narrowing. Nikki and Sam exchanged quick glances.

“And this is Hank who wanted to come along, to keep Atalanta company.”

“Ah I see,” Eloise responded her face masked as she wrapped her arm around Ben, “Behind every good woman …”

Ben smiled good naturedly at their inside joke. I felt heat creep into my cheeks at her suggestion.

“That’s what Mom said, too,” I replied evenly.

“Smart woman,” Eloise replied adding, “Come on in, sit down and we’ll talk.”

I followed the Connors inside while Sam and Nikki hung back with a few random words drifting to my ears. Hank was on my heels. The house was furnished functionally and comfortably; a coat rack beside the door, a sofa, chairs, end tables and a TV in a far corner with a center throw rug and coffee table on it. It was as I remembered it.

Eloise led the way to the combination kitchen and dining area and where I again noted modern appliances. I was reminded once more at the differences between this village and the ones I had seen back home. The Medawihla tribe seemed to have its foot firmly planted in the 21st century.

“Coffee, tea, or water,” Eloise asked her guests.

“Nothing for me,” Sam declined as she didn’t posses a human digestive tract.

Nikki and Hank wanted water. “And coffee for you,” Eloise said pouring me a cup while speaking, her back to the group.

Sam and Nikki again exchanged quick looks at Ben and Eloise and then at me. As she handed me my cup our eyes met and an understanding passed between us.

“I have something to tell you all, but I need your word to keep it to yourself for the time being,” I started once everyone had seated.

Sam being a part of the staff responded, “I’ll have to reserve judgment but as long as it doesn’t compromise my ability to do my job I will remain silent.”

“Good enough,” I declared and I went on to relate the details from last Friday until Monday evening.

“So while everyone thought you were in a safe house, you were out traipsing around the wilderness,” Nikki accused, “Why didn’t you let the school and Mrs. Carson know where you were?”
Sam looked on with interest.

“An ambush was set for me using the school’s van and they had a school ID of me for identification. What would you think?” I countered. “Besides,” I added, “your father signed off on it. Leaks at the school had implications for all student safety and I’m sure your safety entered into it. And it worked, we found the leak.”

“Really,” Sam asked leaning forward, “Who was it?”

“As I understand it, it isn’t a person but a backdoor into the internal emails generated with an unauthorized address included. While it was centrally accessed the Trojan was installed with the system. I think they are probably sorting that out now.”

“Does Mrs. Carson know about the security leak?”

I measured my response, “I don’t know; I have been out of the loop since my team brought me in.”

Sam wanted to know where I spent Monday night.

I demurred, telling them I didn’t have permission to share that information for the time being.

Eventually I got their round of questions answered and then we got down to the reason for the trip.

“Now tell me a little about yourself and why you feel a need to be a huntress. And tell me something about this bounty program,” Eloise smiled.

I told of my lost canyon transformation and the subsequent adjustments and my dreams of Atalanta and the running dreams. “I think Atalanta is my exemplar and she was a hunter, as am I. Atalanta also has my old name, Alan, in it. Back home the shepherds paid a bounty for lions and wolves and such and I have also done some wildlife tagging. The folks at Whateley seemed to feel that after being shot I am an imbued paragon now. ”

I then rolled up my sleeve revealing the owl relief etched in my arm.

“That looks like a birthmark.”

“It is a birthmark,” I declared, “though it is only a few week old.”

“I believe,” Ben interjected, “we can probably work out something in tagging and relocating wildlife. The state and federal wildlife agencies have been pressuring us for a population count. We’ve been reluctant to agree because of our unique nature.”

Eloise continued asking, “Do you know, or has anyone told you what Ben’s referring to by our unique nature?”

My dumbfounded look said I didn’t.

“The Medawihla Tribe is a tribe of Weres, Ben is a Were Bear and I’m a Panther.”

“Oh,” I answered surprised, “that’s interesting. Though,” I turned to Ben, “my first impression of you was as a bear of a man,” I smiled at him.

“And you reminded me of the big cats I’ve seen in New Mexico,” I continued turning back to Eloise.

He grinned back at me and replied, “We keep a low profile and with good reason; we don’t like outsiders prowling around. With your experience we can satisfy both the concerns of our people and the various groups and agencies.”

“It’s something I’m good at.”

“I don’t like having anything to do with the government,” Eloise groused.

“I grew up an army brat so I never gave them a thought, but now that I’m classified as a mutant I’m starting to develop distaste as well,” I declared.

“I don’t like it either,” Ben agreed, “but now that we have our own police department the sheriff leaves us alone. Sooner or later the Feds will override any of our objections: if we don’t do something they will.”

“I know,” Eloise sighed, “but I still don’t like it. Still see what you can find out about it.”

“Excuse me,” I interjected as my shoulder image flared and rising to my feet, “but my other mother is calling me.” A curious entourage followed as I rushed to the door and outside to the covered porch which faced west.

A flash of color and movement alerted me, and as I walked briskly across the floor to the steps I heard a familiar screech. To my left and in the direction we had come, I saw a great owl perched in an evergreen.
Harvard!

He or was it she screeched again.

“Owls in the daytime are a bad omen,” Ben remarked.

I wasn’t listening, sprinting across the front of the house and confronting several cords of firewood blocking my path. In full stride my feet hit the tops of several stacks and gaining momentum with each step I launched head first into a full grown bull moose that was in a headlong charge.

His prey was a seven or eight year old girl in full flight screaming for all she was worth.

The full force of my 125 pound body slammed into his 1,000 pound frame. His charge broke as my right hand clutched one enormous antler creating leverage and twisting his head and neck in an unexpected direction with his body
following. As he went to one knee my legs swung around and clamped around his neck. I brought my free hand down hard on his nose.
He bellowed in pain.

My free hand reached into my boot and came out with a six inch dagger poised to strike his jugular vein. My hand froze in an overhead strike as Ben’s frantic shout reached me.

“Stop! He’s a Were moose. Dustin,” Ben’s shout warned me.

I swung free landing on the balls of my feet, knees bent and knife extended with my eyes flashing fire. I watched poised as the moose morphed into a moose of a man standing a foot taller than me with wide shoulders and long arms and legs.

After he had fully changed I sheathed my knife; I stepped up close and suddenly struck him on his neck with the edge of my hand. He folded like a beach chair on the ground.

Eloise began explaining, “That is Dustin Bull, a cousin visiting from a tribe from out west. He’s been nothing but a pain since he arrived, but his death here as an ambassador would be hard to explain.”

I nodded my eyes still riveted on the prone form.

“Atalanta, none of that takes away from your heroic actions at saving this little girl from certain harm and possible death. I don’t know what started this, but his actions are inexcusable. He is no longer welcome here. Ben,” she turned to her husband, “you know what to do.”

He nodded, “I do.”

Sam, Nikki, and Hank were standing off to one side watching me closely.

Dustin began to stir and climbed groggily to his feet shaking his head vigorously and automatically. With his long face and bushy tufts of hair he made a comical sight and suddenly I knew.

“Hey moose jaw,” I taunted.

His body tensed and he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Moose jaw, a little thinned skin are we? Well moose jaw,” I drawled evenly, “just so you know if Ben hadn’t stopped me I would have cut your throat. As far as I’m concerned it’s over with, but if you want a rematch now is the time to speak up.”

The challenge hung in the suddenly still air.

Ben broke the stalemate when he forcefully guided Dustin toward the street disappearing around a corner with a hand on his shoulder.

I turned to Eloise’s fixated gaze, “What?”

“You really would have killed him.”

“His jugular was the size of a rope,” I agreed.

By mutual and unspoken agreement we walked back inside the house. Once we were seated Eloise asked, “Tell me about your other mother.”

Blushing I replied, “I didn’t think anyone heard me. The owl showed up first as I was hunting the people who kidnapped my Mom and guided me to her, and then saved my life when one of the kidnappers shot me. I believe she’s connected to the Five-Fold Court. I think she’s Athena, but she wants to remain somewhat a mystery, so I have tagged her as my other mother."

Ben had come in while I was explaining; remaining quiet, listening attentively, he finally spoke, “What do you know about the Five-Fold Court?”

“I know there was a court for each direction and each was affiliated with an element and the center court is what held the whole thing together.”

“That pretty much sums it up,” Eloise responded, “but the center court enforced its decisions through an enforcer. We believe whoever she was; was killed and over time the Court lost it’s effectiveness before splintering into various factions and then fading into history’s dustbins.”

An image flashed across my mind too fleeting to capture.

We then hammered out an agreement whereby I would spend Sunday through Thursday with the Donners.

“Now Atalanta I want to call and talk with your mother. If she’s not all right with you staying here, then I’m afraid you’ll have to spend Christmas in your room.”

I took the phone she handed me and called home, “Mom it’s me,” I said when she picked up the call.

After we exchanged pleasantries I handed the phone to Eloise and they talked for a half hour and I was sure that I was being dissected. Next she talked briefly with Sam who then handed the phone back to me.

She gave me the required talk about being a good guest; “Atalanta I miss you so much.”

“Mom I miss you too and I wish I was with you too.” We hung up to the words of ‘I love you.’

Eloise and Ben followed us outside as we had to leave to go back to the Academy.

“What happened back there,” Nikki asked. Atalanta perplexed her; she and Team Kimba were no strangers to violence and had dished out their own share of violence. It was the speed, suddenness, and the finality of her actions that flummoxed Fey. Atalanta showed none of that in dealing with Tatiana and the New Olympians.

“You mean about the moose,” I asked smiling gently.

“Yes, the moose,” Nikki pushed out a pent up breath, “You meant to kill him,” she stated.

“Yes and I would have if Ben hadn’t stopped me.”

“But why,” Nikki stammered, “you didn’t show that level of aggression at the school with Tatiana or the New Olympians.”

I stopped walking placing my hands on my hips and facing my three companions, “It is pretty damn simple,” I drawled evenly. “The short answer is, I reacted as I was trained; the school has rules that exclude death by combat. A child’s life was in danger in this instance and that includes no mercy rules.”

The silence deepened as they digested my words and apparently came to an agreement, “That makes sense,” Hank smiled at me; dimples and all.

I relaxed, “Thanks,” I replied softly.

Nikki and Sam led the way while Hank walked beside me, “Don’t take it personally Atalanta; the truth is people don’t know how to take you. You set this school on its ear even before you arrived on campus.”

“I guess I have,” I replied looking at the surrounding forest, “things just seem to happen around me and I act.”

“Yes you do.”