When everyone has settled down from the excitements of the night, rosy-fingered Dawn, the child of morning, has already begun appearing on the far edge of the horizon.
Eurylochus takes his usual place at the prow. He may be giving Circe a hard time, but you know that, underneath the hard shell, he's a good man. A truly good man. Born and raised in Ithaca. His family was loved by many on the island: his mother was the best fisherwoman in the Ionian sea, his father the woodcarver who graced your throne with the most exquisite and delicate carvings you had ever seen. The man worked on the decorations for months, lovingly forming each mythical fish, each oyster, each scale, then plating it all with leaves of gold so fine you had to remind yourself to breathe the first time you laid eyes upon the throne.
Eurylochus was one of the first who turned up to join your fleet when you sailed for Troy. He left behind a husband and two young children, so you know how much returning home means to him–and yet, he never complains, never a nostalgic sigh escapes his lips. He has saved your life more than once, and you know he'll do it again if he has to, even if it means sacrificing himself.
Despite all the losses you suffered on the way back already, luck must have smiled upon you for you to still be sailing with such a worthy crew.
Demodocus is already asleep with his back against the mast, and Ajax has taken to polishing his sword, a mountain of a man huddled over it, making the giant blade seem like a child's toy. His hair hangs in a long fishtail braid down his spine. The first day in Troy he vowed not to cut it again until he sees the shores of home.
Polyxena has retreated into the belly of the ship to catch a few moments of sleep.
You are about to do the same, when you spot Circe standing by the gunwale, staring out at sea. Her brows are furrowed, her shoulders tense.
A troubled sorceress rarely heralds joyful news, so you'd better go to her and see what is going on.