Jezebel was a beautiful little girl. A cascade of wavy, tawny-black hair framed a perfect oval face, dominated by two enormous, matching eyes. Her dazzlingly white teeth revealed a perpetual smile of joy that infected everyone who approached her. Her slender body was perfectly proportioned and already hinted at her future, disarming beauty.
The amber color of her skin, inherited from her father, who hailed from the North, stood out naturally against the stark black of the local population, and when (as usual) she ran half-naked through the crowded city, she could be spotted at a glance from any vantage point.
One day, seeing her approach, one of the soldiers guarding the towers overlooking the market area exclaimed, "The little lightning bolt is coming." The ensuing roar of laughter from the entire garrison was so loud it interrupted the merchants' activities, and it would remain Jezebel's nickname until the end.
Jezebel was as beloved as she was irrepressible. From an early age, she had learned to elude the surveillance of her family and the guards, managing to venture beyond the city walls. She spent her childhood days exploring the lush and extremely dangerous nature along the river.
When she was late in returning in the evening, a rescue expedition was organized, duly financed and led by her wealthy father. The anecdotes of these expeditions would be passed down from generation to generation, like the beginning of the legend.
Once, they had seen her, covered in bees, eating honey from a hole drilled directly into a hive positioned several meters above her. When a soldier asked her how it was possible she was free of stings, she had candidly replied, "I asked the queen's permission before taking the honey."
Another time, they had found her cuddling a baby elephant in the midst of her herd, and it had taken an expert archer to get Jezebel's attention without provoking the adult elephants' reactions.
But the most important event/anecdote in Jezebel's childhood was when they had seen her laughing and leaping in the middle of a flock of black herons that circled her amicably and played with her. The City's high priest had interpreted this as a clear sign and, overcoming reluctance due to Jezebel's mixed blood, had asked her father to be a novice.
The "little lightning bolt" would become a priestess.