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Weekly Contest #323
Deianira had risen with the sun, donning her chiton and fastening the thick himation around her slender shoulders. With chestnut hair plaited down her spine, she slipped out of her house built of pale stone and brick before her parents could redirect her attention. Pails hung from each fist as she padded through cobbled-stone streets. The town was just waking, the soft flutters of women rising for their daily chores as the men dressed to sell their wares. The bakery in town was already puffing smoke from its chimney, and from the high point ...
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