It was a wonderful day to be on the beach. The sun was blistering and the water was frigid. Lor-Ryd was content with sitting on the sand, watching her handmaids play in the water. Today she sat on the side as they played, though on most days she would splash with them. She had a feeling she would need her strength. She wiggled her toes in the sand, and stroked the grains with her finger tips, making ripples and stripes across the sand.

Lor was a middle goddess, and the daughter of a high god. She was a well-bred goddess and tried not to act less than she was. But when it was just herself and her servants, she allowed them to relax and tie their hair from their faces. And in return, they told no one of the games she played with them.

The women were often found at the beach. Never, though, were they found to venture more than a few feet into the water. They were fire goddesses after all, so water was not a safe venue for them. And so when a man fell from the sky into the water, Lor’s maids hesitated to act. But Lor jumped to her feet and ran to her maids, touching their shoulders as they stared at the reverberating splash in the crystal waters.

“Why are you standing about in that useless manner? He has not surfaced! He must be rescued!”

It was Kay-Lite who spoke, grasping at the embroidered folds of her dress in a helpless gesture. “Ryd, we cannot go into the water! We would sink and drown in our dresses! And to remove them would be unthinkable!”

Lor did not hesitate to show her fury. “Then he will die and then we shall have quite a tale to tell my father upon his return!" But her maids, though they shifted in their discomfort, did not make efforts to save him. So she pulled at the fastenings of her engraved chest plate. "And if you shall not, I shall!” Then she ripped off her long, over dress with ease and flew into the waves. 

Her maids rushed after her, but could not gather a firm grip upon her before she had taken a dive. Her red under dress fluttered as she dove down, collecting water and sinking with her. Their cries were loud and constant and assailed Lor’s ears when she had resurfaced.

“Lor-Ryd!”

“Ryd!”

“Please come back, Ryd!”

But she disregarded them and, fighting the weight of her saturated gown, searched for the man. Once he was in sight, she clasped him about the chest. He was unconscious, much to her dismay, making him a dead weight as she swam.

As she began to abandon any hope of ever returning to the shore, her maids appeared beside her. And grasping her arms, they helped her reach the sand.

On the shore, they lay the man out to examine him. Silence followed as the four women stared down at the sopping figure. The maids had to vocalize their feelings.

“He looks like a mortal!”

“Is he a human? He does not look like any kind of god I have ever seen. His clothes are so simple... And torn! I do not think we should touch a mortal human.”

Lor silenced them with a raise of her hand.

“It does not matter if he is the lowest of human, or the highest of gods. He is not out of danger yet. He is not breathing well, and those gashes seem fresh and deep. We must take him back to the temple.”

“The temple!”

“Ryd, we have never had a mortal inside the temple before!”

“And no gods other than those of the flame have ever been past the ceremony rooms!”

“Your father would not approve!”

“Be still! Do you not see the wounds? He bleeds! He suffers! We will carry him back to the temple! He will remain a guest until he is well. If he recovers quickly, he shall be gone before my father’s return and there shall be no reason for him to know.” As improper and she felt it to be to keep such a secret from her father, she felt it her first duty as a goddess to save a dying man.

Looking nervous and terrified, her servants were slow to pick up the man. But they obeyed their mistress and carried him back to the temple.

It was not until after he had been dried, bandaged, changed into warmer clothes, placed with great care into a soft bed, and the servants threatened into compliance that Lor got a good look at him.

He was very tall and strong. Still slender though, and with olive colored skin. The thick black hair hanging just a bit over his forehead made him look very distinguished. He had very chiseled features, from a strong brow to a square jaw. His hands were toned and muscular. It was obvious, now that she looked, that he was in peak condition (save the wounds) and would be very strong, were he conscious. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. And dwelling with the gods, one saw a good deal of handsome men.