A Good Run

It is dusk and Thoas is at the gates along with a thousand other Athenians, old men and children and women of all ages and Thessily tries to keep running, but her legs no longer listen and in truth, she feels they have earned that right. Her vision is blurred by tears and sweat and poison that she does not recognize Thoas until he has come out to meet her, calling her name.

She hears tears in his voice.

She falls into his arms and he cradles her to the ground, her head in his lap.

He kisses her brow and speaks a prayer to Dionysus, to Demeter and to Kore.

Through lips that are parched and cracked, she whispers to him. "We won." She says and though she can barely hear herself speak, a cheer comes from the crowd at the gate. She tries to turn her head to see what has roused them and Thoas brushes hair from her cheek and shakes his head.

"Phidippides has arrived." He tells her softly. "He brings the same news."

"He can run." Thessily says. It hurts to smile, but she finds one anyway.

"Yes, he surely can."

She shivers, but not so badly as before and tries again to turn her head. This time, Thoas relents and she sees that Phidippides is before the crowd, his helmet in his hand. She sees the fatigue take him as he turns towards her, watches as he falters and drops his helmet. He staggers another step, falling to his knees. The crowd behind him surges, then stops.

Phidippides reaches them on his knees and holds out his hand.

Thoas has to take it and put it in Thessily's own.

Phidippides' hand is dry, too dry and there is no heat in it any longer. "I've seen you before." He says. His voice is ragged and hoarse. "Running with me at night."

"Yes." The word passes her throat more air than sound.

"What is your name?" He asks.

"Thessily."

He smiles a broken smile, through lips as damaged as her own and he puts his head on the ground near hers. "It was a good run." He says.

"Yes." Thessily says, the last of her air slipping away. "It was."