She grew up on Themiscyra, in a world of women, unquestioning, carefree.
The gifts given to her mother were hers as well, flight, strength, speed, healing. She was blessed by the gods and loved by the Amazons and never thought of Man’s World, so far beyond the bounds of her world.
Until he came, standing in the sky off the island, setting no foot on Themiscyra, but asking to see the Queen.
And her mother came, lifting into the air to greet him with his name. “Clark.”
“Diana.”
He glanced at her, hovering, curious, intrigued.
“Does he know?”
“No.”
He?
*