about.
Labrius called her over. “One of our people can find you a pallet in his cottage for the night,” he offered. Then with a twinkle, he added, “You’ll need a good night’s rest if you’re to beat Orion tomorrow.”
Everyone at the table laughed loudly at the joke.
“She’ll need a hundred nights’ rest to do that!” his handsome son called, and the laughter redoubled.
“I don’t need a roof over my head,” Atalanta said sharply. “I’ll sleep under the stars.”
“Surely not,” said Labrius. “What about the mantiger?”
“I’ll shelter high in a tree,” she replied. “The thing may have wings, but it’s too heavy to roost.” What she didn’t say was that she hoped that Urso had found her trail. But if he had, she knew he’d never come openly into a place like Mylonas.
Snatching up her bow, arrows, and spear, she stomped off into the nearby woods. There she found an oak high enough to keep her from the ground animals but with a canopy deep enough to discourage the mantiger’s attention should it still be close.
Climbing the tree easily, she settled down in a crotch, making certain that her quiver of arrows was slung on a branch within easy reach, and that both bow and spear were at hand. But it was hard getting to sleep with so much loud singing and laughing going on back at the village. The people of Mylonas were celebrating as heartily as if Orion had already slain the beast and taken its hide as a trophy. But at last she drifted off, only to be awakened by a soft whistle.
At first she thought it must be a breeze blowing through the trees. Then she realized the air was still; what she heard was a pipe tune.
Tucking her knife into her belt, and taking her spear in hand, she shimmied down the tree, following the sound.
Suddenly a familiar musk invaded her nostrils.
“Urso,” she called as her feet touched the ground. She turned, and in the dim light of the shrouded moon, she saw him.
He wasn’t alone. Curled up on the ground under an ash tree, he had rested his head in the lap of a figure she recognized. For a moment jealousy pierced her like a poisoned dart.
When he saw Atalanta, Pan lowered the pipes. “Ah, the little huntress,” he said in that low, musical voice. “I wondered when you’d show up.”
“You again!”
“You could at least try to sound pleased to see me,” Pan said. “Why, the nymphs and shepherds throughout Arcadia rejoice at the very sight of me.”
“Well, I am neither nymph nor shepherd, and I can do without the sight of you,” Atalanta said.
Pan smiled. He didn’t have good teeth. “Is that so?” He scratched Urso behind the ear and the bear made a deep-throated noise that was almost a purr. “You can do without me but obviously not without your fellow humans. I said that would happen, remember? The lure of one’s own kind is hard to resist. Are you enjoying their company?”
“Enjoying isn’t the word I would use,” Atalanta said. “But at least we are all after the same thing—the beast that slew my father.” She set the butt of the spear into the ground and leaned on it.
“Very high-minded I’m sure,” said Pan. He patted the top of the bear’s head. “But what do you think that great bully Orion would do if he found Urso here?”
“I’ll see to it he doesn’t find Urso,” Atalanta said. Then watching the bear rub his muzzle up against Pan’s cheek, she said softly, “Urso seems very comfortable with you.”
“We’re old friends. Do you object?”
“He can do what he likes,” Atalanta declared with a shrug, though she knew she did care, desperately. “He doesn’t need my permission.” She suddenly found herself irked with the forest god. “Or yours.”
“It’s not a matter of permission,” said Pan. “It’s a matter of nature. You have been fighting human nature trying to live like a beast in the forest. Now Urso is fighting his animal nature in order to be close to you. His very blood tells him
Labrius called her over. “One of our people can find you a pallet in his cottage for the night,” he offered. Then with a twinkle, he added, “You’ll need a good night’s rest if you’re to beat Orion tomorrow.”
Everyone at the table laughed loudly at the joke.
“She’ll need a hundred nights’ rest to do that!” his handsome son called, and the laughter redoubled.
“I don’t need a roof over my head,” Atalanta said sharply. “I’ll sleep under the stars.”
“Surely not,” said Labrius. “What about the mantiger?”
“I’ll shelter high in a tree,” she replied. “The thing may have wings, but it’s too heavy to roost.” What she didn’t say was that she hoped that Urso had found her trail. But if he had, she knew he’d never come openly into a place like Mylonas.
Snatching up her bow, arrows, and spear, she stomped off into the nearby woods. There she found an oak high enough to keep her from the ground animals but with a canopy deep enough to discourage the mantiger’s attention should it still be close.
Climbing the tree easily, she settled down in a crotch, making certain that her quiver of arrows was slung on a branch within easy reach, and that both bow and spear were at hand. But it was hard getting to sleep with so much loud singing and laughing going on back at the village. The people of Mylonas were celebrating as heartily as if Orion had already slain the beast and taken its hide as a trophy. But at last she drifted off, only to be awakened by a soft whistle.
At first she thought it must be a breeze blowing through the trees. Then she realized the air was still; what she heard was a pipe tune.
Tucking her knife into her belt, and taking her spear in hand, she shimmied down the tree, following the sound.
Suddenly a familiar musk invaded her nostrils.
“Urso,” she called as her feet touched the ground. She turned, and in the dim light of the shrouded moon, she saw him.
He wasn’t alone. Curled up on the ground under an ash tree, he had rested his head in the lap of a figure she recognized. For a moment jealousy pierced her like a poisoned dart.
When he saw Atalanta, Pan lowered the pipes. “Ah, the little huntress,” he said in that low, musical voice. “I wondered when you’d show up.”
“You again!”
“You could at least try to sound pleased to see me,” Pan said. “Why, the nymphs and shepherds throughout Arcadia rejoice at the very sight of me.”
“Well, I am neither nymph nor shepherd, and I can do without the sight of you,” Atalanta said.
Pan smiled. He didn’t have good teeth. “Is that so?” He scratched Urso behind the ear and the bear made a deep-throated noise that was almost a purr. “You can do without me but obviously not without your fellow humans. I said that would happen, remember? The lure of one’s own kind is hard to resist. Are you enjoying their company?”
“Enjoying isn’t the word I would use,” Atalanta said. “But at least we are all after the same thing—the beast that slew my father.” She set the butt of the spear into the ground and leaned on it.
“Very high-minded I’m sure,” said Pan. He patted the top of the bear’s head. “But what do you think that great bully Orion would do if he found Urso here?”
“I’ll see to it he doesn’t find Urso,” Atalanta said. Then watching the bear rub his muzzle up against Pan’s cheek, she said softly, “Urso seems very comfortable with you.”
“We’re old friends. Do you object?”
“He can do what he likes,” Atalanta declared with a shrug, though she knew she did care, desperately. “He doesn’t need my permission.” She suddenly found herself irked with the forest god. “Or yours.”
“It’s not a matter of permission,” said Pan. “It’s a matter of nature. You have been fighting human nature trying to live like a beast in the forest. Now Urso is fighting his animal nature in order to be close to you. His very blood tells him
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