The Huntress Of Names

Once, her name had been Arjuna, back when she was a beggar, in the shores of Midranesh, before the river god was killed.

Now, she traveled through the cosmos in a transparent bubble of light. She alone dared to reach the far away cold absent spaces, there in the folds of infinity where galaxies and black holes collided and new baby worlds were born.

She even dared to go beyond, into the frozen borders of the void where the Wolves of the Deep lived and gnawed at their claws with poisonous teeth... In her little hands she held the trembling infant planets, she gave them names, granted them voices, defended them from those who even the gods themselves feared.

The Huntress of Names was bold, she slept on the floor on soft pillows. At her right rested a tiger with a lazy paw on her belly; at her head a turtle chewed discarded bits of nightmares; at her feet a phoenix stretched red and blue wings over her legs; at her left the dragon sat, vigilant, alert. They protected her in her slumber. The Wolves of the Deep were numerous, they flew in packs far and wide. They contaminated with death everything that crossed their path. When they howled the worlds trembled, the gods huddled together in fear.

Her place of origin had disappeared, thorn by the wolves, before time itself came into being, she had been thrown into the cosmos by a dying river god.

Now she carried with her flaming bows and arrows, she learned no spells, made no prisoners. She was the top explorer of the cosmos. Sometimes she arrived too late, many times she counted her losses.

Yet she granted the gods their wishes, they knelt to her, she delivered. She demanded to be paid in secrets: the words of creation, the music, the equations.

Astonished by her arrogance the gods complied every time, behind her back they plotted her demise.

The dragon, the tiger, the turtle and the phoenix knew all there was to know about the gods. They kept a tight watch and waited, waited patiently for Ragnarök.