A giant wolf with a charcoal coat prowled the base of the tree. Danae clung to its branches, her trembling body shaking the leaves. The animal reared up and planted two large paws on the trunk. The tree shuddered under its weight, but she told herself it couldn’t reach her; she was safe.
Then the beast began to climb.
She stared in horror as its tawny eyes ignited into red. Its limbs twisted, claws elongating into black-gloved fingers and its hide unfurled into a sweeping cloak, the hood shrouding a face dissolved in darkness, except for those terrible crimson eyes.
She tried to kick it away and found her leg was not a leg at all but a branch. Threads of light coursed through the bark that was her skin. The creature tumbled from her twisted branches, and she knew it would not climb her again. She could feel life surging through her trunk, through her leaves and down into her roots buried deep in the earth.
She was the tree but at the same time she was so much more. She was everything the tree was connected to. She was the soil and all the beings it contained. She was every ocean and all the creatures that swam in their depths. She was the whole world. She was the infinite tapestry of life itself.
The blast of a horn jolted Danae awake. Rosy-fingered dawn blushed the sky. She winced as a twig dug into her back. Carefully maneuvering herself onto her belly, she clung to the branch beneath her and peered through the leaves.
The wolf was nowhere to be seen. It was just a dream.
But what was the horn?
For a breath she was still, her body frozen with indecision. Then she eased herself off the branch and began to clamber down the trunk. She couldn’t waste time waiting in her bower, she had to reach the city, find food and directions to Delphi.
Dropping from a lower branch, she landed sprawled on the forest floor. Her legs were stiff, her muscles aching from overuse and undernourishment. As she got to her feet, she heard the rumble of hooves. The horn sounded again, much louder than before. Whoever they were, they were close. Perhaps the guards were still searching for her after all.
With no time to climb back into its branches, she ducked behind the tree. A heartbeat later, a man burst through the bushes and hurtled past. He was young, with olive skin and dark hair, dressed in a ruby-red tunic. His eyes bulged with fear, and his spittle-flecked lips were drawn back as he gasped for breath.
A pack of hounds tore after him, followed by a group of men on horseback. In the lead was a thickset man in a royal blue tunic, a gold band nestled on his graying curls.
King Theseus.
Danae flattened herself against the trunk and stayed very still until she was sure the hunt had passed, then peered around the tree. The little clearing was calm once more. She took off carefully along the path the horses had trampled. Now at least, she had a route to follow out of the forest.
A few moments later, she froze as screams ruptured the air, accompanied by the snarling of hounds who’d found their prey. She pressed her hands over her ears, but she couldn’t block out the man’s agonizing cries and the last pitiful sounds of him begging for his life.
She broke into a run and sprinted along the hunt’s trail as fast as her aching legs would let her.
When she eventually emerged from the forest, she found herself not far from where she’d entered it the day before. Her heart sank, but thankfully, there were no wagons parked outside the theater.
She lingered in the last row of trees, scanning the area for guards. The graveled road seemed to be deserted. She chewed the insides of her cheeks, then decided to risk it and sprinted across the path to the smattering of trees on the other side.
A crow soared overhead. She watched it beat its wings against the sun, then turn sharply and dive toward the theater.
Curiosity snaring her, she left the little clutch of trees and scuttled toward the wooden seating. The bird had landed in the center of the top row of benches, and was pecking the spike-mounted head of the Spartan. His gray flesh was already sagging in the heat and trickles of dried blood stained the wood beneath his severed neck.
A wave of nausea cramped her stomach.
She recognized the landmarks of Athens from Philemon’s stories, but this was not the city she’d imagined. He’d described it as the height of civility, culture and sophistication. All she’d seen so far was cruelty and violence. The sooner she could leave this place for Delphi the better.
She looked up toward the acropolis at the peak of the hill, the Temple of Athena its crowning jewel. If anyone knew the way to Delphi, it would be a priestess of Athena. It was said the Athenian treasure house was the largest in the sacred city, and it was always fully stocked. The trade-off being, whenever Athenian royalty or nobility wanted to visit the oracle, they got to jump the queue. Apparently, there was even a statue of Athena at the entrance to the city, despite Apollo being the patron deity.
She turned and ran up the ground to the left of the theater, darting behind the sporadic clutches of trees. As she reached the ground level with the crest of the seating, two guards stepped out in front of her. She skidded to a halt. They stared down at her, helmeted heads obstructing the sun. Had they been at the flesh market? She couldn’t tell.
“What were you doing down there?” said the first guard. “The theater’s closed today.”
Thank the gods, they hadn’t recognized her. Thinking quickly as she returned the sacred gesture they had given her, she rounded her shoulders and bit her lip, hoping she looked young and helpless.
“I’m sorry, I just went into the forest to look for food. We haven’t had much since Pa died and now Ma’s sick...” she trailed off, staring dejectedly at the ground for added effect.
She willed herself to keep calm as the guards scrutinized her.
Then the first said, “You’re lucky the king’s hounds didn’t find you. He’s hunting today.”
She wondered who the man he’d been pursuing was, but she didn’t dare ask.
