It would have been beautiful finished, it seems almost perverse that she woke up before it was ready.

There is no way for me to know how long she slumbered, her form had lain since before my fathers fathers recollections. As if rooted to the earth itself, immovable. Her flesh was flesh, soft and flushed with life, her breasts slowly rose and fell with soft gentle breaths. She would be warm in winter, and cool in the summer.

Legends and rumors arose from her state of being, and her stature and raiment. Large, as tall as two men, naked of clothing but armed with weapons that could neither be taken from her, nor budged in any way.

As the years passed, I had begun building her a roofed shrine. Some days travelers curious would arrive and stay for a day or two.

On this day, she and I were alone. I was terrified when she stirred. I had become accustomed to working around her, at times even standing upon her to set or fit or measure the stonework. I had imagined of course what it might be like to have this beauty wake and love me. Many of the men who came here had tried to tempt her to awaken, with caress, and some indignities as well.

I heard a movement, when I looked at her face, her eyes were open. Her mouth opened, and she yawned and began to stretch. As the ages before, she did not loose her weapons, the double headed spear, and dragon scale shield.

The beams and supports that held the stone roof work were swept away as if straw in a wind. I was nearly killed by the stones crashing down. Within the unfinished shrine, she bellowed in pain and rage as the roof came down upon her and around her.

She was cut, bruised, and very angry, but not mortally wounded. Again I was nearly killed as her limbs caught at the rock work and flung them from her. Nearly as quickly as the roof had fallen she had cleared her body of rubble. I watched in fear and amazement as she rose, bloody rivulets beginning to stream through the gray rock dust that now covered her form.

I could see her look around, then her gaze fell upon me, and I trembled. I still held my hammer and chisel. I could see that her first appraisal was that I was weaponed and possibly had caused her injury, then her gaze softened as she apparently understood that I was in the process of building around her, with my tools in hand, when she woke.

Her eyes were green like soft grass in the spring dew, her hair was dark like the night with no moon, only starlight twinkling. At the moment however her hair was rock dusty. She sneezed, she roared, and beat down one of the corner columns with her shield.

Again she looked around, and once again her gaze fell on me. It was then that she spoke to me. I had no idea what her words meant, I caught her meaning, as she looked at me and pointedly at the ruined structure around her. Apologetic would be an apt description of her demeanor, though she was obviously quite annoyed as well.

A short ways down a path, a fairly large stream gurgled at hand, and she noted that within a short time and strode for the water. I had never seen her from her back, no one alive ever had as far as I knew.

She had no modesty whatsoever, upon reaching the stream, she surveyed the area quickly then bent to drink, and within moments had begun splashing water about herself, cleaning the dust from her skin. I could see her pausing and dabbing carefully at those places where the rocks had cut her. Dappled sunlight caught her skin in shades and glows that mesmerized me, even in my state of fear, and I began moving towards her.

As I neared the bank, she had been fully immersed, and scrubbing her hair in the current. She noticed my approach, and her voice and eyes warned me to stay clear of her weapons. Then her gesture was clear that I was to come closer.

I stood at the edge of the water, watching her as her hand began twisting her hair, wringing excess water from her tresses and leaving it balled in a knot atop her head. I had seen some women do this, and they had used a stick to fasten it up. I could see her looking around, looking somewhat vexed that no stick was at hand. She looked at me in frustration, I could see that she was certain that explaining what she needed was beyond gestures and eye contact.

I dropped my hammer and chisel, and began smiling and nodding like some fool, and went off in search of a suitable stick for her hair. Within a short time I did find a smooth stick that would do, once I had used my knife to point one end. I returned to the stream, found her sitting on a grassy hummock in a spot of clear sun.

Her spear and shield were close at her hand and when I approached with a sharp stick in one hand and my knife in the other she made it clear that she was not opposed to using her weapons.

I sheathed my knife, and gently tossed the stick to the ground near to her, but not so near that she could have felt I was throwing it at her.

Her hair had fallen, as she sat drying in the sun, and I watched as she again twisted her locks and pinned them up. She watched me, as well, amusement apparent on her features. Obviously she was well aware that men were held in awe at the sight of her. She noticed, but did not seem to take notice.

She did notice however that I was wearing clothes, and that seemed to displease her, once she had finished with her hair. With voice and gesture she made me understand that I was to disrobe, and she wanted my knife.

I was not entirely pleased with this turn of events. I had seen her naked all of my life, and that she was awake and naked was a pleasing development, but that I was to be naked, felt rather demeaning.

As my own features must have made her aware of my own feelings, her voice and gesture turned what may have been construed as a light request into an imperious order, disobedience was not to be allowed.

I unbelted, and tossed her my sheathed knife with the belt, and removed my tunic.

With a quickness hardly believed she was up, and took my tunic from me. I gazed up at her face, she was not nearly twice as tall as me, but I felt very very small with her so close. Then she was off to the stream once again, and she bent and washed my tunic in the clear water. She looked back at me, as she wrung out the cloth, and then motioned for me to bathe myself.

As I stepped into the water, she headed back up to the sun lit spot. As I bathed, she took no obvious notice of me, but had my knife out and began to cut my tunic into pieces and strips. I was not happy. I was wet, naked and without any weapons.

I shook the water from my hair, and was slicking water from my skin, when I noticed that she was using my tunic to bandage her wounds. The rock fall had not caused mortal injury, but some of the cuts were deep, and bleeding rather freely. I felt foolish.

I approached her once again, my demeanor was somewhat abashed. As I watched, she was having trouble with a bandage on a gash on her shoulder. I offered to help, and she allowed it.

With her sitting, we found it rather easier for me to wrap and tie while she held a pad on her wounds. She smelled good, and being so close, in sometimes intimate contact, my reaction to her was reasonable, and she noticed, again, without noticing.

In a short time, she made it clear that she was satisfied with the bandages. She rose, went to the stream, and drank once more, leaving my knife and her weapons. When she returned, she noted that I had not made any attempt to retrieve my knife, nor touched her weapons.

She picked up my knife, with belt and handed them to me, and picked up her spear and shield.

I had spent many hours imagining names that she would be known by. Most people merely referred to her as 'The Goddess'. I was surprised when she looked down at me, touched her chest and said 'Li-Leander'.

I looked up at her, and touched my own chest, 'Darnal'.

She smiled, 'Lu-Darnal', pointing at me, then 'Li-Leander', as she touched herself once more.

I shook my head, 'Darnal, not Lu-Darnal'.

She looked somewhat bemused, then said, 'Leander' touching herself, then pointed at me, 'Darnal'.

I smiled, and nodded, 'Leander' pointing at her, and 'Darnal' touching my own chest once more.

Then she nodded, and smiled. Spreading her hand on her chest she repeated, 'Li-Leander', and then reaching down touching my chest, 'Lu-Darnal'.

I was catching on, so I said, 'Li-Darnal, Lu-Leander'?

She nodded, and smiled with a brief girlish giggle. Her giggle, made her seem less a menace, more warm and comfortable, and made interesting parts of her move in delicious ways. She noticed, again.

She looked around while I looked at her. She looked at me, 'Darnal', then motioned for me to follow her as she moved back up towards the wreckage of her shrine.

I caught up with her as she reached my rude encampment, she caught up both of my blankets, then spied my wineskin, and a loaf, and my cheese. She didn't leave me any.

After Leander had eaten, and finished my wine, she looked at my blankets, where she had dropped them to eat. Picking up one of them, she measured it against her body. She tried it as a tunic, but it would be too short, she tried it as a wrap, and decided that it was barely adequate. Leander motioned that she wanted my knife once again, and I handed it to her.

Leander quickly cut several strips from my last blanket, removed her wrap, and began cutting slits, and tying strips here and there. When she was done, she was dressed in an interesting, but serviceable dress.

There was left, a single strip, and a single large portion of blanket. She folded the large piece, then cut a slit at the fold, and handed it to me, along with the last strip. I tugged the ruined blanket over my head, and used the strip and my belt with sheath to tie my new makeshift tunic. Leander stepped close, and gently placed my knife back in my sheath.

Leander seemed to have a reasonable mood about her, feminine, certainly, yet kept a wild streak close. That became evident when she walked to the freshly ruined structure she had recently slept in for so long. She stood amid the scattered stones for several heartbeats. Then she began to sway and move. As I watched she began to dance to some inner beat and melody, round her shrine, several times. Wild, exotic, primal. When she finished she was panting, sweaty. Her hair had fallen and was about her face and body in a foggy black veil. Several of her wounds had begun bleeding again.

I dared not speak or move, the ruins were rebuilt, and finished.

Goddess she must be. How else could that wreckage become whole?

She looked at me, smiling. Then she stepped inside. She lay back on the dais she had rested upon for ages, closed her eyes.

Leander. Goddess.