falanx:

When Artemis comes it is with fire. Phaesphoria travels as if on the Sun chariot, holding soft wood wrapped in bark, smoke streaming from between Her fingers. She touches girls with burning fingers, scorching streaks into their hair. They dance in the light of a thousand bonfires, and they are fire-keepers, and they shelter beneath hemlocks, pine sap sticky on their fingers.

When She comes it is with fire. The scent of smoke precedes the scent of blood and steel; the deer, felled swiftly, roasts on a spit. She teaches girls how to keep warm with only flint and steel, only a magnifying glass, only one match. She blesses the plants of the forests with tinder, tells Her people that they will burn, and burn easily. She holds fire in her palms. She holds power in her fingertips. She holds life in her hands. 

In the winter, Artemis etches smoke onto the sky, delighting in the way the sun sparks over frost. In the winter, Artemis tracks down rabbits in the deep snow, and eats them hot from the fire. In the winter, Artemis blesses the houses of the pious with the fire they need for survival. 

In the spring, Artemis burns away the mud, relishing firm ground beneath Her running feet. Artemis-Hekate lights the way to the forest’s most prosperous season. Artemis hunts and kills and always She burns, in the light of each and every sunrise.