and flesh and other things too awful to name.
“Jump!” Hippolyta croaked, and leaped over the edge of the well, dragging Tithonus with her.
Above their heads the colossal jaws crashed shut like the sound of trees breaking in a storm.
Hippolyta caught her breath as she hit the water fifteen feet down. She was plunged into a cold dark, and the waters closed over her head.
The River Styx, she thought as she sank, the river that runs around the Underworld, would not be this cold.
Then her feet touched the slimy bottom of the well, and she pushed against it and propelled herself up again. When she broke the surface of the well water, she flailed around for something to hold on to. After a moment her fingers found the rope and the clay jar that had been used for bringing up water.
Tithonus too broke the water’s surface, and before he could sink again, she grabbed the braided collar of his tunic and pulled him close.
Just then the monster stuck its snout into the well’s top. But its head was too big, and it could not force its way down. In frustration it roared and roared, and the well’s echo nearly deafened them. Hippolyta fought the urge to put her fingers in her ears and instead hung on to Tithonus with one hand, the clay pot with the other.
The monster gave one more awful roar, then stomped away.
“Thank you, Artemis,” she whispered.
“I’m freezing,” Tithonus said. Indeed his teeth were chattering.
“Just a few minutes more, till we’re sure that monster’s gone,” Hippolyta said. “Then we’ll climb the rope out of here.” She looked at Tithonus, who was now shivering uncontrollably. “You can climb a rope, can’t you?”
He nodded.
She wondered, though. Exhausted, frightened, cold, even she was going to have trouble climbing.
“You’d better go first,” she said. “I’ll be behind you all the way.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
COMPANIONS
T HEY CREPT OUT OF the farmyard under the light of a full moon, thankful to find the sea monster no longer around.
“Gone to find easier prey,” Hippolyta said to the shaking boy.
His teeth were clattering so hard he couldn’t answer, though he nodded silently.
“Good boy,” she told him. “Now let’s find some rocks where we can hide out. Our clothes will dry as we walk.”
He nodded again.
“And perhaps the serpent, satisfied with what it finds elsewhere, will go back to the sea for a while.”
He smiled briefly.
She smiled back.
Neither of them gave a thought to the monster’s other prey but stole quickly and gratefully away from the farm.
When Hippolyta awoke in their nest of rocks, morning sun blazing overhead, Tithonus was gone.
She was immediately seized by a sense of alarm and reached for her weapon. Then she remembered she had none.
“Tithonus!” she hissed in an urgent whisper, then listened hard for an answer.
She was greeted by silence.
Cautiously she eased her way out of the small cave into the full glare of the morning sun. There, on the plain below the rocks, was a small figure kicking disconsolately at a stone.
Hippolyta checked all around. There was no sign of anyone. And no sound of any monster. She sighed with relief. Then she clambered out of the rocks.
The noise she made surprised her. Even more surprising was that Tithonus had gotten out earlier and she’d heard nothing.
A warrior, she reminded herself, never sleeps.
She bit her lip. She had not acquitted herself well. The monster hadn’t been slain. Her prisoner had escaped. Well, at least he hadn’t gone far.
She hurried down the rocky slope, calling his name.
This time he heard her and looked up with a faint smile.
“What are you doing out here?”
He shrugged. “Looking for food.” Then he paused. “I haven’t found anything. And I was … afraid to go too far. In case … you know.”
She did know but didn’t want to comfort him. “Well, you won’t find loaves of bread and joints of mutton lying around on the ground.”
“I’d settle
“Jump!” Hippolyta croaked, and leaped over the edge of the well, dragging Tithonus with her.
Above their heads the colossal jaws crashed shut like the sound of trees breaking in a storm.
Hippolyta caught her breath as she hit the water fifteen feet down. She was plunged into a cold dark, and the waters closed over her head.
The River Styx, she thought as she sank, the river that runs around the Underworld, would not be this cold.
Then her feet touched the slimy bottom of the well, and she pushed against it and propelled herself up again. When she broke the surface of the well water, she flailed around for something to hold on to. After a moment her fingers found the rope and the clay jar that had been used for bringing up water.
Tithonus too broke the water’s surface, and before he could sink again, she grabbed the braided collar of his tunic and pulled him close.
Just then the monster stuck its snout into the well’s top. But its head was too big, and it could not force its way down. In frustration it roared and roared, and the well’s echo nearly deafened them. Hippolyta fought the urge to put her fingers in her ears and instead hung on to Tithonus with one hand, the clay pot with the other.
The monster gave one more awful roar, then stomped away.
“Thank you, Artemis,” she whispered.
“I’m freezing,” Tithonus said. Indeed his teeth were chattering.
“Just a few minutes more, till we’re sure that monster’s gone,” Hippolyta said. “Then we’ll climb the rope out of here.” She looked at Tithonus, who was now shivering uncontrollably. “You can climb a rope, can’t you?”
He nodded.
She wondered, though. Exhausted, frightened, cold, even she was going to have trouble climbing.
“You’d better go first,” she said. “I’ll be behind you all the way.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
COMPANIONS
T HEY CREPT OUT OF the farmyard under the light of a full moon, thankful to find the sea monster no longer around.
“Gone to find easier prey,” Hippolyta said to the shaking boy.
His teeth were clattering so hard he couldn’t answer, though he nodded silently.
“Good boy,” she told him. “Now let’s find some rocks where we can hide out. Our clothes will dry as we walk.”
He nodded again.
“And perhaps the serpent, satisfied with what it finds elsewhere, will go back to the sea for a while.”
He smiled briefly.
She smiled back.
Neither of them gave a thought to the monster’s other prey but stole quickly and gratefully away from the farm.
When Hippolyta awoke in their nest of rocks, morning sun blazing overhead, Tithonus was gone.
She was immediately seized by a sense of alarm and reached for her weapon. Then she remembered she had none.
“Tithonus!” she hissed in an urgent whisper, then listened hard for an answer.
She was greeted by silence.
Cautiously she eased her way out of the small cave into the full glare of the morning sun. There, on the plain below the rocks, was a small figure kicking disconsolately at a stone.
Hippolyta checked all around. There was no sign of anyone. And no sound of any monster. She sighed with relief. Then she clambered out of the rocks.
The noise she made surprised her. Even more surprising was that Tithonus had gotten out earlier and she’d heard nothing.
A warrior, she reminded herself, never sleeps.
She bit her lip. She had not acquitted herself well. The monster hadn’t been slain. Her prisoner had escaped. Well, at least he hadn’t gone far.
She hurried down the rocky slope, calling his name.
This time he heard her and looked up with a faint smile.
“What are you doing out here?”
He shrugged. “Looking for food.” Then he paused. “I haven’t found anything. And I was … afraid to go too far. In case … you know.”
She did know but didn’t want to comfort him. “Well, you won’t find loaves of bread and joints of mutton lying around on the ground.”
“I’d settle
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