Atalanta buried herself in some blueberry bushes and listened to the men’s footsteps padding along the path. Carefully she peered through the leaves, thinking that they were not very good hunters, making all that noise.
There were three of them, armed with daggers and spears. Ropes and snares hung from their belts. That weighted down, they would not go fast.
Good, she thought. Better for Urso.
One of the men had a long face with a beaked nose. Another was shorter, squat, with a squashed face like a gourd left in the sun. The third had a dark scar down his right arm.
Scar was in the lead with Beak Nose bringing up the rear, grumbling to himself about his aching feet.
Atalanta let them pass her hiding place and then, when they were halfway around a bend in the path, she stood up and cupping her hands to her mouth, made loud growling noises.
The men stopped and turned, and she dropped back into the bushes.
“What was that?” came Goryx’s grating voice.
“Doesn’t sound like a bear,” said Beak.
“More like a bear cub,” Scar said.
Atalanta felt around her feet and picked up three rocks. One for each of you, she thought, waiting till they got closer. She listened for their footsteps, careful not to make the bushes tremble.
For hunters, they were terribly loud and she could hear them go past. The minute they were beyond her, she stood and tossed the rocks quickly, hitting them each on the back.
Then she dived back into the brush.
The hunters spun around with angry yells.
“What was that?” growled Goryx. “Somebody throwing rocks?”
“I don’t see anybody,” Beak Nose said. “Who’d be playing silly tricks like that so deep in the forest?”
“I’ll wring their stupid necks if I catch them,” Goryx threatened, rubbing the bruised spot on his back.
Scar raised a hand to silence them both. “Never mind that now. Stay alert. We need to move on and check the trap.”
The other two grunted their agreement, and they started off again.
Atalanta realized that her plan to distract the men wasn’t working, and Urso needed more time. Jumping out of cover with a whoop, she hurled herself at Beak Nose, landing heavily on his back and knocking him down. He shrieked, a sound as high and squealing as a pig in labor.
Scar grabbed her from behind and flung her to the ground, but she rolled nimbly to her feet and whipped out her knife. She didn’t intend to hurt anyone, of course. Her plan was simply to give Urso more time to get out of the pit. But Scar didn’t know that, and he raised his right arm to defend himself.
“Hold off, you little animal!” Goryx cried, grabbing her knife arm.
Atalanta turned her head and sank her teeth into the exposed skin of his wrist. He pulled away, cursing.
“Damned Amazon!” he cried.
From his knees, Beak Nose jammed his spear between Atalanta’s feet and she stumbled back, losing her balance. She landed hard on her bottom and that gave Beak Nose a chance to catch her wrist and twist the knife from her grasp, tossing it way out of reach. In turn she kicked him hard in the shin with her sandal.
“By Hermes, she’s a wild one!” he cried, backing away.
Shorty hefted his spear and was making ready to throw it at Atalanta, but Scar put up his hand. “No, Goryx—she’s a child.”
“Harpy’s child most like,” Goryx replied.
Atalanta made a sudden dive for her knife, but Scar had spotted her eyeing it. He reached out suddenly and grabbed her from behind and prisoned her arms against her sides.
Beak stared at her, taking in her torn and filthy clothing. “Look how skinny she is,” he said. “She must be half crazed with hunger.”
Scar laughed, and it rumbled against Atalanta’s back. “You just like your women plump.”
But Goryx was nodding his head. “She’s crazy all right. Crazy mad. Like a dog with the foaming sickness.”
“Don’t just stand there gawping, Phreneus,” Scar said, never slackening his grip on Atalanta’s arms. “Use that leather cord of yours to tie her up before she does any more harm. How would we explain that at home? Three grown men bested by a child. And a girl at that.”
Atalanta screeched in fury, but kick and wriggle as she might, she could not stop them winding the bonds around her arms and knotting them tightly. The scarred man continued to hold her as she fought in vain to free herself.
“There, that should do, Evenor,” said Phreneus, regarding his work with pride.
“She’s more beast than girl,” said the squat Goryx. “Do you suppose she’s a maenad, one of those madwomen who go dancing after the god Dionysus?”
“She’s just a child who’s been abandoned in the woods,” said Evenor, the scarred man. “Who knows how long she’s been running wild out here.” He glanced at her dark hair in its ragged braid, the deep gray eyes. “Looks to be about twelve or so, I’d say.”
“Why do you suppose she attacked us?” Goryx asked, rubbing his wrist where Atalanta had bitten him.
Phreneus shrugged. “If she hadn’t jumped out, we’d never have known she was there.”
Baring her teeth, Atalanta let out the loudest growl she could muster.
Evenor looked thoughtful. “It’s almost as if she’s trying to keep us from something.”
“The pit!” Goryx and Phreneus said together. Goryx added, “Maybe there’s something in it and she wants it for herself.”
Atalanta began to thrash about and moan, anything to slow them down and give Urso more time.
Phreneus’ spear jerked up. “Do you think she understands what we’re saying?”
“I don’t know,” Evenor said. “She may have been out here so long, she’s forgotten human speech. My mother told me of a child like that in her old village. The villagers tamed the child—a boy it was, small with a hump on his back—but he never learned to speak proper. Just made noises like a pig.”
“I bet this one never knew how to speak in the first place,” Goryx said. He put his face near Atalanta’s and made grunting sounds.
Suddenly Pan’s words flashed through Atalanta’s mind. Dream or not, she could hear them clearly. “The lure of one’s own kind is hard to resist.”
Not, Atalanta thought, if these are my kind. I can resist them forever. She would never speak to them and would let them think what they liked.
She leaned forward and snarled at Goryx so loudly, he snapped his head back as if afraid of being bitten.
“I told you—Harpy’s child!” he cried.
Phreneus laughed. “She has you jumping, Goryx. Leave her be. Let’s check that pit.”
Atalanta twisted and dragged her feet so much that in the end Evenor and Phreneus picked her up and carried her. When they reached the pit, they set her down on the ground and stared into the hole.
“Someone’s rolled a log in here,” Goryx said, as if the other two couldn’t see for themselves.
Casting around the outside of the pit, Phreneus said, “Plenty of bear tracks.”
Evenor shook his head, all the while looking at Atalanta. “But no bear.” He smiled slightly. “So bear friend, have you been delaying us till the bear could climb out?”
Atalanta looked down, her lips set together in a thin, hard slash.
“What do we do now, Evenor?” Goryx asked in his unpleasant voice.
“Go after the bear,” Phreneus put in.
Atalanta looked up at them and held her breath. Please, Pan, guard my bear. A prayer, even to a dream god, might not be amiss.
Evenor shook his head. “Who knows how far it’s gotten by now. Besides”—and he smiled at Atalanta, almost as if they were conspirators—“we’ll have our hands full getting the girl back to Eteos.”
Goryx held up his hands. “We’re not taking that Harpy’s brat back with us.”