A young boy, no earlier than sixteen, sat at the edge of a cave opening in a cliffside, his feet kicking down the steep rocky wall, peering out past the jungle that he had escaped to shortly ago. A large fruit in hand that he had stolen from one of the nearby trees before scaling the mountain to retreat into the cave. A wide smile rest on his face as young Peter of Loxley watches as the people he once called master finally gave up on their search for him, finally feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment that he had only known once before, when he learned how to ignite a fire on the tip of his finger.
“Hahaha! I’m free!” Peter called, jumping to his feet, holding his hands up into the air, “I am my own! I can go anywhere, do anything, and it doesn’t matter who tries to stop me.” Peter lets out another cheer, his voice echoing through the nearby jungle, sending the local birds flying away, and causing his masters to jeer and peer but unable to find the source. The sound of his voice echoing down the cave behind him, causing him to turn and look further inside.
Taking another bite from his fruit, Peter begins to sing a small tune, a slave-tune he had come to know well from the fields, his voice bouncing off the walls, filling the entire cavern.
In the fields we toil, beneath the burning sun, Our backs bowed low, our spirits nearly done, Bound by chains of sorrow, our voices cry in vain, Yearning for the day when we'll break free from the train. But oh, in our hearts, a hope remains, To break the bonds, to shatter the chains, No more the shackles, no more the pains! Finally we’re able to leave their reigns! From dawn 'til dusk, our labor never ends, Our dreams of freedom, are our only friends, Yet in the darkness, a whisper stirs, A call to arms, our hearts it spurs. But oh, in our hearts, a hope remains, To break the bonds, to shatter the chains, No more the shackles, no more the pain! Finally we’re able to leave their reign! So let our voices rise, like thunder in the sky, For we'll never surrender, we'll never say goodbye, To the dreams of freedom, that burn within our soul, For in the end, it's freedom that makes us whole.
Walking deeper into the darkness, “I will be a great man, with all I have within, and they can never hold me again.” He reaches out his hand, placing it on the wall, using the slight glow that was now emitting from his other handto light the path before him.
“I’ll see the world, and then, the stars, the planets, and the moon! And then I’ll find a wife and have a son.” He smiles to himself, feeling a sense of freedom that he had not felt before, the thought of a family. A true family. No masters, no overseers, just him and his child, and a woman who loved him. The future overjoyed him. “My boy will grow strong, and wise, and free. I’ll teach him to stand, and live, and love.” His smile was contagious, as his heart soared higher and higher with every line of his future song. “And my wife will teach him to be a good man. And they will never, never, never, never, never have a master again!”
The cavern had opened up into a large space, a cavern so deep that the glow that had begun to form around him was barely enough to allow him to see the ground under him, and the ceiling above him. As his thoughts ended, his voice echoing throughout the chamber, “Ouah”, the cavern called back, in the same melody, and pitch as the voice that had been sung, adding to Peter’s glee, as he began playing with the echoes. A back and forth began, on and on this went, until Peter heard another noise, not his own call back. A low guttural growl followed quickly by a hiss as the floor beneath him began to tremble, and he stepped back with a jump, pressing against the wall, asking quietly and abruptly, “I-is someone there?”.
Peter always wondered why the masters of Sherwood never entered or excavated the caves on the island, the resources in them were reason enough, he thought, plus once finished, they’d make a good place to keep the slaves or already gathered resources rather than having to build new lodgings when the sailors came through; a natural shelter. But all that was explained to him was that he should never-ever look into the caves, for they already have masters. “Dingle berries.” Peter would respond, he never saw no masters go in or out of caves, as a matter of fact, he never saw anything go in or out of the caves, not even grass or weed.
It was at the return of another deep growl that vibrated his bones that he began to fear the cavern did have an owner already, his heart began racing, and his breathing growing short. He was not ready to die. Not after escaping the shackles and the whip. Not after seeing freedom for the first time. Suddenly, out of the dark black of the cave, he spotted a pair of orbs, amber in color as they appeared, and began moving towards him in a zigzag motion. Slowly. “H-hello?” Petter stuttered, taking a few steps back, his hand brushing against the cold, rough rock. He could hear the sound of the creature breathing, a hissing breath as it closed the distance, revealing the orbs to be eyes, but that was all he could make out, his light not strong enough, and he quickly took a few more steps back. Learning why his masters wouldn’t dare near the cave.
His eyes widened as he saw the eyes rise up, the dim light from his hand finally revealing to him the master of the cave as the dark face of a great lion entered its aura. A forked tongue flicked towards him from the head, which alone was the side of Peter’s chest, and gave another hiss. Slowly, the monster lowered itself, its nose brushing against him, sniffing. But! The young boy stood his ground, knowing that running would only cause it to give chase, and besides, all that was behind him was a fate he’d rather not return.
“Easy.” Peter whispered, lifting his hand up and resting it on the side of the lion’s face. He could feel the heat from its skin radiating through the palm of his hand, and a strange sense of calm washed over him, despite the situation. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the lion doing the same, causing the small flame on his finger which had given him light until now to abruptly go out, leaving them in complete darkness. Peter, however, didn’t mind. For a moment, the two seemed to be connected. It felt like he had found a kindred spirit.
“What are you?” he whispered, feeling the soft mane against his fingers, “What are you hiding here, in this dark, damp, palace?” the lion remained silent, its only reply was a soft mew, and then a nudge against the young man, knocking him off balance and onto the hard floor. His head landed on something soft, and he could feel his fingers dig into it, as if it was some sort of pillow. Whatever it was, the young boy was thankful, and quickly brought himself to a sitting position, his hand raising back to feel the lion’s mane again, only to feel something else, something much smaller. “Who are you?” Peter asked again, this time a little louder.
He could feel the soft, wet nose brush against him, followed by the lion’s rough, coarse tongue, and a deep rumble. He could smell the scent of the sea, of fish and water, and he knew the lion’s hunting grounds. On the other side of the island, where only a few slaves were allowed and most of the masters lived. Peter was curious, he was amazed, and his curiosity was getting the best of him. What did the lion have hidden, and what was it trying to tell him?
“If you don’t tell me who you are, then I guess I’m just going to have to find out for myself.” He could feel the lion move, as if it were shaking its head, and he felt his hand slip past its neck, down its shoulder, and would have kept going to its ribs had the lion’s body not diverted, surprising him. While he had never seen a lion before, he had heard tales and seen paintings of them from the sailors that stopped on the island during their voyage. “What is this?” Peter asked as he followed this bone up, up, and up, until he decided to light his finger once more, giving him sight, albeit not very much, but enough to see the lion’s body was more than any of the sailors explained, for it wasn’t just a bipedal creature, but held wings! Massive, expanding wings that were similar to that of a bat, Peter’s most hated critters, aside from the terrible biting centipedes.
“You’re… You’re… beautiful…” the young man’s words escaped his lips, and the lion turned its head, looking back at him, its eyes glowing the same amber color that they had when he first saw them, and the monster nodded its head, a smile secretly forming across its mouth as it says “Thank you.”
Peter could have sworn he had just heard the creature speak, but he shrugged it off, thinking that maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, “Are you the guardian of the cavern?” Peter asked, looking around, but only seeing the same old rocks and dirt he had seen before.
“In a way, yes. You could say I am the king of these caves. The others have tried to take what is mine, but none have ever succeeded.” The voice spoke again, and Peter turned his attention back to the winged beast, “What’s yours?”
“This island. All the land that you and your people have taken to destroying for your comfort.”
“My people?” Peter raised a brow, his fingers now feeling the soft, furry wings, “The masters? If you truly are king, why do you let them?”
The beast turns around, facing him fully, the wings folding around his body, the tip of its nose pressing against his chest, “They feed me, naughty among them, which appease me. I allow them land to call home as long as they do not enter the caves.”
Peter’s eyes widened, his mouth agape as he realized, the weekly rituals and the offering to the gods, this lion was no ordinary kat of folk-legend, but was who his masters worshiped. “Jarl Jeron.” Peter unconsciously let out as the lion winked and chuckled, a deep, bellowing laugh that vibrated the cavern, sending small rocks and dust falling from the ceiling.
“My name is known to you.” The voice said, its tone becoming more feminine, but retaining the deep, thundering nature that had caused the ground to shake. Peter had never felt so frightened, yet so fascinated. He was in the presence of the lion’s true form, the being that the masters had spent their whole lives protecting, and he was about to run away, scream, and call for help, but the moment he moved, the wings opened, and the face of the monster was replaced by that of a human, a young girl, no older than him, and a naked beauty.
“W-what?” was all Peter could let out, as the young woman crawled closer to him, her face now inches from his, a sultry smile crossing her lips.
“You’ve discovered my secret.” Her voice was low, and soft, yet carried a commanding presence. She lifted a single finger, placing it on his lips, her amber eyes watching his intently.
“Y-you’re beautiful.” He whispered, and she smiled, a chuckle escaping her lips, which quickly turned into a laugh, and Peter couldn’t help but smile, and join her in laughing.
“Thank you. I do try.” The young woman said, and her wings folded around them both, hiding him away from the outside world. “You’ve shown bravery, Peter, and courage. Most would have fled by now, or called for their masters. But not you.”
“Masters. They’re nothing. Barely humans themselves. Why should I call for them?” Peter said, his courage rising, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the young woman’s eyes. There was something about her, something he couldn’t put his finger on, something he couldn’t describe, but his heart told him that she was someone he wanted to know. Someone he wanted to be with. “Are you really a god?”
The young woman smiles and nods her head, “That is one name that I’m known by. But you can call me Jeron.” Her wings retracting from the boy and obscuring his vision just for a moment as Jarl Jeron escapes further into her home, and he follows, his eyes never leaving her body, now seeing that beyond wings she also holds a tail, similar to the scorpions that would occasionally pester the livestock or get in the slave quarters.
“Is it true, that you can grant any wish?” Peter asked, and Jarl Jeron paused, her tail hovering over her shoulder. She turns to him, and her expression is soft.
“There are some things even I cannot do.”
“Even if a man wished for more land, or wealth, or…” Peter was cut off as Jarl Jeron presses her finger against his lips again, shushing him.
“If a man truly desired land, and was willing to work and sacrifice for it, then he wouldn’t need a god.” She said as Peter locked eyes with her once again, this time realizing what had grasped him of hers the first time. Stars. He could see the night sky in her eyes. But this was broken when she looked away, causing him to look further into the cave with her, not able to see much before she placed a hand against the wall, and gave a whisper. The entire cave began to glow a bright orange, and Peter was forced to shield his eyes from the brightness. When he opened them, he could see the cavern had opened up, a massive room filled with gold, treasures, and weapons that were unlike anything he had seen before.
“W-what is all of this?” Peter asked, looking at the hoard, “Is this all yours?”
“Yes. These are my trophies, my rewards. Every piece, every treasure, every gold coin has been given to me.” Jeron would say, laying herself across one of the piles, looking back to Peter, seductively, “Or that I have taken.”
“You took all of this?” Peter’s eyes widened, looking back at her, a small smile crossing his lips.
“I’ve been alive for centuries, and this is what I’ve collected.” She said, her own smile growing.
“What is it you want, Peter of Loxley. I have granted men and women, kings and queens, anything their hearts desired, and they have all fallen in my grasp. So, what do you desire?”
Peter looked back at the treasures, the weapons, and the gold. It would have been any young boy’s dream to be in this room, but his gaze fell back on Jarl Jeron, her eyes still shining like the stars in the sky, the wings and tail resting on either side of her, her skin shimmering, her curves perfectly curved. Her beauty was undeniable, and as Peter stood there, he could feel his body begin to tremble, his legs grow weak, and his chest tighten, his thoughts returning to his mother, and his father, and the stories his father would tell him. How he met his mother, and the two fell in love, and their adventures. A life that Peter always dreamed about, and he could feel a single tear fall down his cheek, “I want a family.”
“A family.” Jarl Jeron repeats, her head tilting, curiously, “What is it you mean by a family?”
“A-a wife, and a child. Like my mother and father. My parents were sailors, you see. But they were taken advantage once they landed here on Sherwood. All I’ve wanted since they died, and I was taken by the masters of this island, was freedom. So I could go and hold adventures. Go and have a family, to love and to hold.” Peter took a deep breath, wiping the years from his eyes and clenching his jaw, “I’ve worked the fields and the docks. I’ve journeyed the long house, and befriended the horses.” His gaze never leaving Jeron, he could see her expression changing, “I’ve fought in the pits, and been whipped for disobedience. I’ve seen the worst and the best of what this world has to offer, and the only thing I’ve truly wanted, the only thing I’ve ever prayed for was a family. To find someone, a woman who loved me as much as my father loved my mother.”
Peter couldn’t believe the words that had left his mouth. He had never told anyone his dreams before. Never had anyone to talk to. But here, with Jeron, he could open his heart and tell her everything, and the smile that was growing on her face gave him comfort, “Is there a woman out there who would love a man like me? Wouldn’t the woman of my dreams think I was too scrawny, or ugly?”
“There are men, and there are women, and then there are Gods.” Jeron says as she approaches him, her hand brushing his hair back and bringing his head onto her chest. “The only woman I know who is worthy of you is one I have yet to meet.” Peter’s arms raise and slowly wrap around her waist, tears streaming down his face and tickling her body. He was overcome with emotion, and he couldn’t fight the urge to smile, his face pressing into her soft bosom.
“T-thank you.” Peter whispered, and he could feel a warm breeze, followed by a bright light, and when he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the cave, but laying on a field of grass, looking up at a beautiful clear sky. A shadow covered him, and he looked over, seeing Jarl Jeron, the sun behind her, the wind blowing her hair and giving her an almost ethereal appearance, “Is this real?”
“Of course. I’ve brought you to the edge of Sherwood.” Jarl Jeron smiled, holding out her hand to him, helping him up, “A ship of sailors, like your parents, will be arriving here soon. They’ll take you on your adventure, Peter of Loxley. And we shall see how you change the world.”
Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing, his jaw dropped, and his eyes wide, “W-why are you doing this for me?”
“A child with so much heart, and so much love to give. Your soul is pure, and it deserves more than to be a slave.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Peter couldn’t contain himself as he rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tightly.
“You will come to see, in time, that your destiny is not as a simple slave, but something greater.” Jeron whispers to him, “I’ve watched over the people on this island for generations, and for the first time, I have found a man worthy of my gift.” She gently pushes him back, holding his shoulders and looking him in the eyes, “And that man is you.”
Peter could only nod, the tears returning as Jarl Jeron held his face, and kissed him on the forehead, a warm sensation passing through him, and then it was gone, as was she.