“Your turn.”
Danae grabbed onto a nearby vine and wound it around her leg like Sofia had done. She took a nauseated glance at the ground, clenched her jaw, then stepped over the edge. She fell to a shuddering halt just below the hut. The half-digested omelet flipped in her stomach as she clung to the vine.
“Use your feet!” called Sofia.
She bit back a retort about how ridiculous it was not to have a ladder, then slightly loosened her fingers. To her surprise, she began to slide slowly downward. She grinned. Itwasas easy as Sofia made it look.
Then her foot slipped, and she tumbled through the air, the vine tangling around her ankle. With a painful jolt she came to a halt, dangling just above the ground. Sofia’s face loomed above her, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing. She pulled a knife from her belt and cut Danae loose. Danae thumped to the ground in a heap, but only her pride was wounded.
“Any other way up or down?” she grumbled as she unwound the vine from her ankle.
Sofia shook her head.
“Right,” she said darkly.
“You will learn. Children can do it.” Sofia helped Danae to her feet. “Or we can winch you down in a bucket like an old woman.”
“I’ll get the hang of it,” Danae mumbled, brushing leaves from her tunic. Then she caught the glint in Sofia’s eye. A joke. Despite herself, she smiled.
She eyed the knife in Sofia’s hand. “Does everyone here carry a weapon?”
A faint line appeared between Sofia’s brows as if she didn’t quite understand the question. “Never leave the hut without a knife. Everyone knows that.”
As she spoke, Danae was distracted by a movement in the trees ahead. Ancaeus crawled out of a nearby hut and straightened up on the adjoining platform. A beautiful, raven-haired woman joined him and began rubbing salve into his bare limbs.
As she watched him, Danae became aware of the jungle moving around the hut. It was dreamlike with the vibrant colors and sweet, heady air. A butterfly the size of her hand flew past, cherry red swirls winking on its wings. She turned her head to follow its path until Sofia’s fingers slipped between hers.
“Come,” Sofia said gently.
As they walked, serenity washed over Danae in undulating waves. She was content for Sofia to lead her through the sea of moss-covered trunks. The ground felt softer than back home. She looked down at her feet and the springy, luminous moss that cushioned her sandals. It was so intensely green, it made all other greens look like a weak imitation of this true color. She must have stopped moving because a moment later Sofia gently tugged her hand.
More Argonauts began to appear from the tree huts. Danae laughed as Telamon attempted to descend on a vine, lost his grip and fell to earth with a thwack, cursing all the way down.
Watching him brought back a memory. A story about a golden hind and men tumbling, dead, from the trees.
“When did all the men die?”
Sofia stopped walking, her pretty face crinkling into a frown. Then she pointed into the undergrowth. “Look.”
Danae followed her finger and saw a tiny frog crouched on a leaf. Its skin was bright yellow with splashes of black, like dark vinegar poured into a dish of olive oil.
“That is a dart frog. Polyxo uses their skin to make the phármakon.”
Danae stared, mesmerized. “It’s beautiful.”
“Don’t touch.” Sofia’s eyes were wide and serious. “Don’t touch anything unless I say it’s safe.”
Danae could have gazed at the frog for hours. But there was something nagging her, something lingering on the tip of her memory. Then it was gone.
Sofia placed a hand on her cheek. “The island gives to those who know her ways and takes from those who don’t. I want you to be safe.”
Danae found it hard to concentrate on Sofia’s words, entranced by the movement of her lips.
“Promise you will do as I say?”
“I promise.”
By the time they emerged into the clearing, the wooden structure of Artemis was drenched in sunlight. Orpheus sat at its base, surrounded by a group of women all working on his broken instrument. He glanced up, smiling dreamily.
