Once Tate arrived at the top of the next ridge, he could see what was making all the music. It was a woman. But the woman wasn't what he stared at. It was the vast glistening lake just next to her. It seemed to almost stretch to the horizon. But how was that possible? It was too cold on Mars for liquid water to exist. Although, on the other hand, maybe it shouldn't have been that surprising, considering that he had already seen a lush green garden earlier when Zeus took Fianna.
Tate slowly slid down the gentle slope, hoping to not startle the singing woman. He wanted a closer look at that Martian lake. The closer he got to her, however, the more beautiful she seemed to become. And by the time he got the bottom of the slope, she had become the embodiment of every sexual fantasy he had ever had.
She turned and smiled at him, then continued to sing.
Tate was mesmerized by her. He wanted her. He needed her. If he had been clear-headed, he would have remembered Greek mythology once again. In this case, the sirens. Seemingly beautiful women who lured men to their deaths.
And that's exactly what this woman was.
