As a hunter raised in the mountains, Atalanta had a no-nonsense approach to life. Survival was everything. Fighting for food? Just part of the game.
But she wasn't a beast. She had to maintain her weapons, buy medicines, and, well, wear clothes.
"Gold coins, huh?" Atalanta flipped one of the coins in the air, giving Cyd a puzzled look. He was busy offering something to the gods. "You're really trading a gold coin for boar meat without the hide? Are you serious?"
Cyd clapped his hands together, seemingly unfazed. "You can't find a better deal. Oh gods, please accept this as my humble offering. It's all I have!"
Atalanta raised an eyebrow. "It's rare to see someone so devoted to the gods. Don't most men offer enemies as sacrifices?"
"Well, the horse is here," Cyd said, patting the white horse's head, which nudged him back in approval.
"Torturing enemies? Boring," Cyd shrugged, turning to Atalanta. "If you have the power to kill quickly, why waste time?"
"Fair point," she agreed. She couldn't stand unnecessarily brutal hunters.
"I'm just a weakling," Cyd yawned. "Even if I tried torturing someone, I'd probably end up getting tortured instead."
Atalanta tilted her head. "You do look pretty frail. Definitely not as strong as me."
Cyd's mouth twitched.
"I'm not looking to be a hero or slay dragons to marry a princess," he said, spreading his arms wide. "I just want to live in peace and die in peace."
Atalanta slung the boar hide over her shoulder. "That has nothing to do with me. If that's all, I'm leaving."
"Hey, how much is the boar hide worth?" Cyd asked, watching her go.
"If you want it back, tough luck. Unless you can take it from me, weakling," she shot back.
"How about a trade?" Cyd offered. "I need to get to the Caucasus Mountains, but... let's be honest, I'll probably starve on the way. I'm only good at catching rabbits."
Atalanta rolled her eyes. "Do you even know how far the Caucasus Mountains are from here?"
Cyd patted the white horse's head. "With Poseidon's horse, distance isn't an issue."
The horse proudly lifted its head, as if to say, You bet.
Atalanta cut him off before he could get any more ideas. "I'm not coming with you."
Cyd shrugged. "No worries. I just need you to buy me some supplies. Rope, a sickle, maybe a bow or a crossbow."
She frowned. None of that stuff was hard to find, even the crossbow. But still...
"If you bring them back, all this is yours," Cyd said, tossing his pouch of coins her way.
Atalanta caught it with ease. "That's too much."
"Without life to enjoy it, money's just... metal," Cyd said, leaning against his horse.
Atalanta smiled, weighing the pouch. "Aren't you afraid I'll run off? Even if I cheat you, you can't beat me."
Cyd grinned. "Then I'd have no choice but to brave the Caucasus Mountains on my own."
Naive but decent, Atalanta thought as she tossed the pouch back. Leaping into a nearby tree with effortless grace, she called over her shoulder, "Wait here."
Cyd watched in awe as she disappeared from sight. "Is everyone this fit in this era?"
He tried jumping to the lowest branch of the tree she'd just leapt into but couldn't even reach it. The white horse nudged him, as if trying to console him.
"Well, at least I'm done dealing with monsters," Cyd sighed, sitting on the ground and chewing on a blade of grass. "After fifteen years, I'm still a weirdo. Hair color, skin color—ugh, I don't want to think about it. Gods, please no more heroes, especially demigods."
He scratched his snowy hair in frustration, but before he could stew in self-pity for long, he felt a hand gently smooth his messy hair.
"What... are you doing?" Cyd froze.
"Your hair is all tangled," a soft voice said from behind him.
Oh gods.
The hand was gentle, and though it felt oddly comforting, Cyd didn't dare move. Whoever could sneak past Poseidon's divine horse had to be powerful... maybe even a god.
"There, all done!" the voice said cheerfully after finishing with his hair.
"Uh, thanks..." Cyd glanced at the white horse, which was now casually grazing alongside a golden-antlered deer.
C'mon, buddy! You're hanging with the wrong crowd!
He felt her lean closer, her hair brushing over his face, carrying a sweet fragrance. His head was lightly resting on something soft.
Don't move.
"You've got a blessing on you... but there's something more," the voice mused, examining him like a puzzle.
Cyd's heart skipped a beat. Had someone cursed him?
Sensing his panic, she patted his head gently. "Don't worry. I removed the tracking spell."
Cyd's stomach sank. Tracking spell? Those gods were really trying to keep tabs on him!
"Thank you so much—" he began, turning around to thank her, but the words died in his throat when he saw a blindingly white expanse.
"Hehe, that tickles..." the goddess giggled, hugging Cyd's head as he sat there, completely frozen.
Yep, I'm doomed.