Actaeon, the skilled hunter and grandson of Cadmus, moved silently through the underbrush, his keen eyes scanning for the slightest movement. Today, the forest was alive with the sounds of chirping birds and the distant calls of wild animals. As he ventured deeper into the woods, the world seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

Unbeknownst to Actaeon, he had stumbled upon the sacred bathing place of Diana, the chaste goddess of the hunt and the moon. Her nymphs giggled softly as they played in the water, their laughter echoing through the glade. Diana, her dignity and privacy violated, was unaware of the hunter's innocent presence.

"How dare you invade my sacred sanctuary?" Diana exclaimed, her voice resonating with the authority of the heavens. Actaeon stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest as he realized the gravitas of his mistake. He opened his mouth to plead his innocence, but words failed him.

With a voice that echoed through the ages, "You shall wear the form of the hunted, since you dared to gaze upon the huntress," Diana pronounced. In an instant, Actaeon felt his body shift and change, his limbs elongating, his skin sprouting fur until he was no longer a man, but a stag.

The forest was a blur of green and brown as Actaeon leapt over roots and ducked beneath branches, his mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion. His heart ached with the knowledge that his loyal dogs, unable to recognize him, were relentless in their pursuit.

His breath came in ragged gasps as the dogs closed in, their eyes wild with the thrill of the hunt. In those final moments, Actaeon looked to the sky, a silent plea for mercy that would never come. The tragic irony of his fate, a hunter turned prey, was complete as darkness fell over the forest, and his cries echoed into the night.