to return to the deep forest to begin the cycle of life afresh. But he also knows that you need him, that without his help you may die on this hunt.”
Urso got up and padded over to Atalanta, nuzzling her with his big wet nose.
Pan stood as well. On his bowed goat’s legs he was the same size as Orion, towering over her.
Atalanta looked up at him. Suddenly something became clear to her. “You know this beast, this mantiger, don’t you?”
The woodland god wrinkled his long nose and stuck out his tongue in distaste. “That creature doesn’t belong in my Arcadia. It carries the stink of the eastern deserts. If you can rid the woodlands of it, you’ll have my blessings.”
“So it is from far away,” Atalanta mused aloud.
Pan nodded.
“Is it possible the gods brought it here then?”
Pan spat to one side, and where it landed a yellow flower popped up. “If it’s oracles you want, go to that boaster Apollo. Or if it’s wisdom you’re looking for, badger that know-it-all-tell-it-ever Athena. I’m only here for good times and fun.”
Atalanta was surprised at his anger toward his fellow gods. But she thought it best not to mention that. Instead she said, “You seem to know a lot about what Urso needs.”
“Of course. That’s because we are brothers.”
“You’re not a bear,” Atalanta pointed out. “And I was the one raised in the same litter with him.”
“Nevertheless, this is the last journey he can make with you,” Pan said. His face was suddenly sad, pulled down like a beeswax candle melted in the heat.
“But we’ll still see each other, won’t we?” asked Atalanta. “He’ll still come to visit me?” She clutched the spear so hard it made a print in her palm.
“No, child,” said Pan gravely. “After this hunt, the cords of Fate that bind you together will be severed forever. He must go and start a family of his own, while you must find the family that you lost.”
His words made the hairs on the back of Atalanta’s neck stand up. She looked left, then right, as if a predator were nearing.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her mouth suddenly dry. “What family?”
By way of reply, Pan lifted the reed pipe back to his mouth and blew a long, low note that washed over her like a soft mist. It muddled her mind and she felt herself sinking to the ground, eyes closing.
When she opened them again, she was back in the tree and Urso was stretching up and licking her leg.
She sat up stiffly. Pan was gone. If, she thought, he’d ever been there at all. Suddenly she was sure the entire conversation had been no more than a dream.
Scratching the top of Urso’s head, she whispered, “Good night, brother-bear. Thank you for standing guard.” Then she curled into the crotch of the tree and slept once more.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE RACE
I T WAS AN HOUR past dawn when Atalanta woke. Her body was stiff and there was a terrible taste in her mouth. Climbing down from the tree, she found Urso had already left.
Better that way, she thought, with the Mighty Hunter so near. She brushed away the bear tracks with her foot. Going back to the village, she located the well, and hauled up a bucket of water, which she splashed liberally over her. Then she stretched her legs, first one and then the other, to ensure that her muscles didn’t cramp in the middle of the race.
It wasn’t long before people began emerging from their houses. In spite of their long celebratory evening, no one wanted to miss the fun.
They’re here, Atalanta thought, to cheer Orion on.
As if answering his name, Orion suddenly came out of the door of Labrius’ house, stretching his arms and yawning. Even this unheroic display was enough to prompt a loud round of applause. He filled the bucket from the well and drained it in one long draught.
Just then Phreneus emerged from one of the humbler cottages. Looking from the tall huntsman to Atalanta, he shook his head.
I suppose, Atalanta thought, he means I might as well go
Urso got up and padded over to Atalanta, nuzzling her with his big wet nose.
Pan stood as well. On his bowed goat’s legs he was the same size as Orion, towering over her.
Atalanta looked up at him. Suddenly something became clear to her. “You know this beast, this mantiger, don’t you?”
The woodland god wrinkled his long nose and stuck out his tongue in distaste. “That creature doesn’t belong in my Arcadia. It carries the stink of the eastern deserts. If you can rid the woodlands of it, you’ll have my blessings.”
“So it is from far away,” Atalanta mused aloud.
Pan nodded.
“Is it possible the gods brought it here then?”
Pan spat to one side, and where it landed a yellow flower popped up. “If it’s oracles you want, go to that boaster Apollo. Or if it’s wisdom you’re looking for, badger that know-it-all-tell-it-ever Athena. I’m only here for good times and fun.”
Atalanta was surprised at his anger toward his fellow gods. But she thought it best not to mention that. Instead she said, “You seem to know a lot about what Urso needs.”
“Of course. That’s because we are brothers.”
“You’re not a bear,” Atalanta pointed out. “And I was the one raised in the same litter with him.”
“Nevertheless, this is the last journey he can make with you,” Pan said. His face was suddenly sad, pulled down like a beeswax candle melted in the heat.
“But we’ll still see each other, won’t we?” asked Atalanta. “He’ll still come to visit me?” She clutched the spear so hard it made a print in her palm.
“No, child,” said Pan gravely. “After this hunt, the cords of Fate that bind you together will be severed forever. He must go and start a family of his own, while you must find the family that you lost.”
His words made the hairs on the back of Atalanta’s neck stand up. She looked left, then right, as if a predator were nearing.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her mouth suddenly dry. “What family?”
By way of reply, Pan lifted the reed pipe back to his mouth and blew a long, low note that washed over her like a soft mist. It muddled her mind and she felt herself sinking to the ground, eyes closing.
When she opened them again, she was back in the tree and Urso was stretching up and licking her leg.
She sat up stiffly. Pan was gone. If, she thought, he’d ever been there at all. Suddenly she was sure the entire conversation had been no more than a dream.
Scratching the top of Urso’s head, she whispered, “Good night, brother-bear. Thank you for standing guard.” Then she curled into the crotch of the tree and slept once more.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE RACE
I T WAS AN HOUR past dawn when Atalanta woke. Her body was stiff and there was a terrible taste in her mouth. Climbing down from the tree, she found Urso had already left.
Better that way, she thought, with the Mighty Hunter so near. She brushed away the bear tracks with her foot. Going back to the village, she located the well, and hauled up a bucket of water, which she splashed liberally over her. Then she stretched her legs, first one and then the other, to ensure that her muscles didn’t cramp in the middle of the race.
It wasn’t long before people began emerging from their houses. In spite of their long celebratory evening, no one wanted to miss the fun.
They’re here, Atalanta thought, to cheer Orion on.
As if answering his name, Orion suddenly came out of the door of Labrius’ house, stretching his arms and yawning. Even this unheroic display was enough to prompt a loud round of applause. He filled the bucket from the well and drained it in one long draught.
Just then Phreneus emerged from one of the humbler cottages. Looking from the tall huntsman to Atalanta, he shook his head.
I suppose, Atalanta thought, he means I might as well go
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