“You again!”
“You could at least try to sound pleased to see me,” Pan said. “Why, the nymphs and shepherds throughout Arcadia rejoice at the very sight of me.”
“Well, I am neither nymph nor shepherd, and I can do without the sight of you,” Atalanta said.
Pan smiled. He didn’t have good teeth. “Is that so?” He scratched Urso behind the ear and the bear made a deep-throated noise that was almost a purr. “You can do without me but obviously not without your fellow humans. I said that would happen, remember? The lure of one’s own kind is hard to resist. Are you enjoying their company?”
“Enjoying isn’t the word I would use,” Atalanta said. “But at least we are all after the same thing—the beast that slew my father.” She set the butt of the spear into the ground and leaned on it.
“Very high-minded I’m sure,” said Pan. He patted the top of the bear’s head. “But what do you think that great bully Orion would do if he found Urso here?”
“I’ll see to it he doesn’t find Urso,” Atalanta said. Then watching the bear rub his muzzle up against Pan’s cheek, she said softly, “Urso seems very comfortable with you.”
“We’re old friends. Do you object?”
“He can do what he likes,” Atalanta declared with a shrug, though she knew she did care, desperately. “He doesn’t need my permission.” She suddenly found herself irked with the forest god. “Or yours.”
“It’s not a matter of permission,” said Pan. “It’s a matter of nature. You have been fighting human nature trying to live like a beast in the forest. Now Urso is fighting his animal nature in order to be close to you. His very blood tells him to return to the deep forest to begin the cycle of life afresh. But he also knows that you need him, that without his help you may die on this hunt.”
Urso got up and padded over to Atalanta, nuzzling her with his big wet nose.
Pan stood as well. On his bowed goat’s legs he was the same size as Orion, towering over her.
Atalanta looked up at him. Suddenly something became clear to her. “You know this beast, this mantiger, don’t you?”
The woodland god wrinkled his long nose and stuck out his tongue in distaste. “That creature doesn’t belong in my Arcadia. It carries the stink of the eastern deserts. If you can rid the woodlands of it, you’ll have my blessings.”
“So it is from far away,” Atalanta mused aloud.
Pan nodded.
“Is it possible the gods brought it here then?”
Pan spat to one side, and where it landed a yellow flower popped up. “If it’s oracles you want, go to that boaster Apollo. Or if it’s wisdom you’re looking for, badger that know-it-all-tell-it-ever Athena. I’m only here for good times and fun.”
Atalanta was surprised at his anger toward his fellow gods. But she thought it best not to mention that. Instead she said, “You seem to know a lot about what Urso needs.”
“Of course. That’s because we are brothers.”
“You’re not a bear,” Atalanta pointed out. “And I was the one raised in the same litter with him.”
“Nevertheless, this is the last journey he can make with you,” Pan said. His face was suddenly sad, pulled down like a beeswax candle melted in the heat.
“But we’ll still see each other, won’t we?” asked Atalanta. “He’ll still come to visit me?” She clutched the spear so hard it made a print in her palm.
“No, child,” said Pan gravely. “After this hunt, the cords of Fate that bind you together will be severed forever. He must go and start a family of his own, while you must find the family that you lost.”
His words made the hairs on the back of Atalanta’s neck stand up. She looked left, then right, as if a predator were nearing.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her mouth suddenly dry. “What family?”
By way of reply, Pan lifted the reed pipe back to his mouth and blew a long, low note that washed over her like a soft mist. It muddled her mind and she felt herself sinking to the ground, eyes closing.
When she opened them again, she was back in the tree and Urso was stretching up and licking her leg.
She sat up stiffly. Pan was gone. If, she thought, he’d ever been there at all. Suddenly she was sure the entire conversation had been no more than a dream.
Scratching the top of Urso’s head, she whispered, “Good night, brother-bear. Thank you for standing guard.” Then she curled into the crotch of the tree and slept once more.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE RACE
IT WAS AN HOUR past dawn when Atalanta woke. Her body was stiff and there was a terrible taste in her mouth. Climbing down from the tree, she found Urso had already left.
Better that way, she thought, with the Mighty Hunter so near. She brushed away the bear tracks with her foot. Going back to the village, she located the well, and hauled up a bucket of water, which she splashed liberally over her. Then she stretched her legs, first one and then the other, to ensure that her muscles didn’t cramp in the middle of the race.
It wasn’t long before people began emerging from their houses. In spite of their long celebratory evening, no one wanted to miss the fun.
They’re here, Atalanta thought, to cheer Orion on.
As if answering his name, Orion suddenly came out of the door of Labrius’ house, stretching his arms and yawning. Even this unheroic display was enough to prompt a loud round of applause. He filled the bucket from the well and drained it in one long draught.
Just then Phreneus emerged from one of the humbler cottages. Looking from the tall huntsman to Atalanta, he shook his head.
I suppose, Atalanta thought, he means I might as well go home now.
Evenor appeared at last with Labrius. Spying Atalanta, he hurried over. In a low voice no one else could hear, he said, “A prayer to swift-footed Hermes might be a good idea, Atalanta.”
“Why? Because you think I can’t win without the gods’ help?” She felt cross. “Isn’t that just the same as cheating?”
“Not if they’re helping Orion as well.”
“Well, they would, wouldn’t they,” she said.
Evenor couldn’t help it. He began to laugh.
“Why are you laughing?”
“I am reminded of a race run in our village many years ago. A man named Charmus ran for three miles with five others, and he came in seventh.” He chuckled as he spoke.
She looked puzzled. “How seven?”
“A friend of his went along crying, ‘Keep it up, Charmus!’ and arrived ahead of him. If he’d five more friends, he would have come in twelfth!” He began laughing again.
It took Atalanta a moment to get the joke, and when she did, she began to laugh, too. Soon they were howling together, till tears ran from their eyes.
When the laughter passed at last, Atalanta handed Evenor her bow, spear, quiver, and belt. Then she took the leather thong from around her neck with the boar’s head ring.
“Will you…” she began.
“Of course.” He gathered them to his chest. “As if they were my own.”
Atalanta looked over to where Orion was stripping down to his loincloth and sandals, leaving himself as unencumbered as possible. Seeing his swelling muscles and powerful legs, she wondered for the first time if she had simply made a fool of herself by challenging him. Yes, she’d chased Urso through the forest and more than held her own. But she’d been told Orion’s speed was legendary. Poets sang of it.
Orion approached her and towered over her. “Do you still wish to go through with this?”
“Why? Do you want to back out?”
A few of the villagers chuckled, and Orion laughed as well. “I like your spirit, child.”
Labrius cleared his throat, which effectively silenced everyone. Pointing to a rough, narrow road leading to the next village, he said, “The girl, Atalanta, and the hero, Orion, will race down that track.” He cleared his throat again. “We’ll place a marker two miles down, attended by a judge. Once they’ve reached the marker, they’ll turn and run back. The first to reach the well will be the winner.”