Perdix had talked about bears. Perdix had drawn bears—badly. He described the terror of such a beast, but the way he sketched an image of a moderately grouchy dog with a bad back left Rhene’s proper appreciation of the creature lacking. Now the horror caught up to her all at once. Skin became ice. Veins barely held fast a heart thrashing out of control. Higher and higher Rhene’s pinprick stare rose, and her craning neck winced seeing eyes of merciless black, fangs large as knives, and nauseating strands of heavy saliva spilling from a gaping jaw. The bear unleashed its wrathful roar, and it was no noise Rhene knew. Was it a cry at all? To her, it seemed the very barriers of sound collapsed in fear of primal bloodlust. 

“Gytos’s madness that take animals has claimed it,” Evelthon whispered as the bear, allowing one brief moment of response, eyed them as a butcher surveyed the best place for a starting cut. “I will distract it, and you run to Orius.” 

“But, you can’t—!” 

“I have fought many bears.” Despite the situation, Evelthon smiled. He spoke as if nothing more than a hissing cat stood before them. “I’ll be fine. You need to get to safety.” 

The bear finished waiting. Ushered by another deep roar, it slammed to its front paws with a force quivering the ground under her feet. Evelthon chucked the berry pouch and hit it square in the eye. 

“Go!” 

Rhene ran. She stumbled upon catching the hulking creature shift its first steps towards her, but the rush of Evelthon’s sword unleashing followed by an enraged howl of pain stopped it from following her mad dash. Rhene left footprints now with each hard punch of her heels into the dirt. The path she’d searched had been straight, yet the distance lengthened by adrenaline frightened that she’d wandered into the eternal woods to never be seen again. After passing the next tree, Rhene barreled into camp. 

“Hellanike, what is it?” Haidee leapt from sitting. 

“There’s, t-there's—!” Her lungs wouldn’t give her enough air. Orius walked over calmly. “A b-bear!” 

“You spotted a bear while trying to find Evelthon?” Orius asked. 

“I found Evelthon, and then a black bear taken by Gytos’s madness appeared! He’s fighting it, but you must go help!” 

Orius stunned her by delaying with a blank expression before shrugging. “I will stay at camp to make sure no other creatures potentially taken by the same madness attack you. Evelthon can handle one bear on his own.” 

“He definitely can’t! That bear—I can’t believe it’s some mere beast living in the woods! It’s more monstrous than the giant goat that can fly!” 

“Please calm her,” Orius ignored her and turned to Haidee. “I will walk the perimeter.” 

“Y-Yes,” Haidee dipped her head. 

“Orius!” Rhene pleaded. 

He didn’t give in to her desperation this time. Orius began his protective circling of the camp and said nothing further. Rhene sank down upon her blanket, cursed herself over her uselessness, and prayed to the god Fyodor, hoping he’d impart Evelthon with all his skills of the mightiest warrior. Haidee rubbed her back and spoke comforting words, but Rhene heard nothing until the familiar press of sandals upon grass. Rhene whipped around. 

“Is the beast dealt with?” Orius called, moving towards the noise. 

“Yes,” Evelthon’s reply came. His voice displayed no intense pain or worry, but he had curiously hidden himself behind a tree several rows back. “I need your assistance with a quick matter though, Orius. If you wouldn’t mind bringing your pack.” 

“Right,” Orius thrust his effects over his shoulder with a knowing nod. 

“I can help,” Rhene urged. 

“Not with this. We’ll be back soon. I’ve seen no signs of further mad beasts, but keep your guard up regardless,” Orius instructed. 

He and Evelthon took off. Rhene groaned. 

“Evelthon seems just fine,” Haidee tried. 

“I am glad that he is,” Rhene dropped her head. “I just wish I could do more. Orius and Evelthon consoled me on this before, but...since the moment Orius brought me outside of my house I see how little I can do. Even if everyone tells me it’s fine, it doesn’t change the reality that the best I know how to do is weave cloth, make sure enough food is in the kitchen, and tell our slaves what to do. Then I have the arrogance to go and say I want to change the world so no one has to be a slave.” 

“You did?” Haidee asked. 

“Ah, yes. While we first passed through Coron towards the house. How remarkable my goal is—to think I have such power when I have none.” 

“But that is the point of a goal, is it not?” Haidee shuffled before Rhene. “To make progress from a lesser state to a better one? You’re not truly making a difference if there’s no effort to it.” 

“Mn. Perhaps,” Rhene considered. 

“May I make a request? Will you help me?” 

“What do you need help with? I’d gladly do anything,” Rhene snapped to attention. Haidee grinned, but Rhene noticed a complexion grayer than before. The few years Haidee had on her bestowed a sisterly kindness. However, now she sat timid and younger-like. 

“The threats of punishments from my masters stopped scaring me a long time ago. It became common, expected. Seeing you rush back here in terror, knowing there was a diseased beast so close who could bring harm—it scared me as well. I thought to not let it show, but...you wish for us to be friends. I had a few brief friends with others in my position before. Them fixing my hair worked wonderfully in calming me down before.” 

“I don’t know many styles, but I’d love to do your hair.” 

Rhene hopped to her knees. She undid the current binding and set the tangles carefully free with her fingers. How Rhene wished she had the oils and creams of home to help Haidee’s frail, brittle strands shine. Still, she snuck what oil could do for the moment from her bag before doing the simplest of crown braids she could. 

“It was easier on another person than myself. I know my word about my work might be biased, but it looks beautiful on you.” 

“I believe you,” Haidee laughed. “Thank you.” 

Both of them better satisfied, Rhene and Haidee chatted in idle complacency completely forgetting to watch for any other dangers. Orius clicked his tongue when he and Evelthon walked right up before either of them noticed. Rhene deflected his exasperation by roving Evelthon over to check his state. Aside from a bandage on his upper arm, he appeared in good spirits with no overt signs of pain. 

“I’m fine,” he promised anyway. 

“Thank Aphrixus. Come have a seat though.” 

Evelthon obliged. Orius ground his heel into the dirt. 

“It’s a shame the bear is all but poisoned. I don’t dare even try to gather some of the pelt, although it seems such a waste to leave it alone.” 

“I’m more concerned of what will eat it,” Evelthon frowned. 

“I thought the disease only spreads when the affected animal bites other animals?” Haidee wondered. 

“That is normally true. We’ve seen signs of it taking on new ways to spread. It might be an entirely separate disease of madness then, but we’re not sure yet.” 

“That’s concerning,” Rhene said. 

“We’re almost to Myrcaea. Just a few more days, and we won’t have to worry about wild animals anymore.” 

“Good.” 

Orius and Evelthon decided to move camp to create some distance from the corpse, and a sudden squall forced them to huddle under an overhang of rock for an hour straight. They could press on afterwards thanks to the cloud cover and cooler air. The days passed faster from there on. Haidee showed them she knew how to ride, so Rhene convinced Orius and Evelthon to share a saddle so she could ride behind Haidee and chat without the men having to hear every secret. Rhene also gathered the courage to sit before Orius once to try the reins herself. Evelthon even stopped having to assist her up. 

Finally, they were at the night before their arrival in the southern capital. A friend owing a favor, like before, absconded from his house for a night so their group could have a comfortable stay in the large abode overlooking a vineyard plump with grapes. Rhene found a comfortable patch of grass at the top of the hill to watch the sunset. Orius approached her with two bunches of fruit. 

“Didn’t Sabyllos tell us not to pick any extra from the vine?” Rhene noted. 

“Will he notice?” Orius smirked. “How about I pay three price for a bottle of his wine? My favor for it will earn him renown enough to sell more as well.” 

“You’re so popular,” Rhene teased. 

She accepted one of the bunches. Orius sat next to her. They munched on the sweet grapes perfect with satisfying crisp. Orius had no shame in spitting the seeds out in front of him. Rhene delicately slipped them from her mouth to deposit at the side opposite him. Impulse, gentler than before, then abruptly pushed her cheeks in and spat out the next seed with a velocity pitching her projectile far past any distance Orius’s had reached. With a raised brow, he concentrated harder on his next launch. It fell significantly short. Orius’s brow twitched, and he tried again. Five more attempts kept him the loser. Rhene nibbled down another grape, focused, and spat the seed even farther than her first. 

“Stop that,” Orius pushed her shoulder. 

“Why should I?” Rhene protested. She laughed, and, for the first time, Orius laughed freely. He returned to his attempts yet gave up after another failing three. Rhene tapped the toe of her foot upon his. “One of my biggest rebellions—Perdix and I hiding in a corner of the garden and spitting grape seeds.” 

“Perdix...was the man with you that day?” 

“Yes. My brother.” 

That drew a thin line on Orius’s lips. Rhene thought to apologize, but he shook his head. “I suppose I should recognize that my anger should not fall upon him. He’s only two years older than you. He played no part in the tragedy.” 

“I never told you his age.” 

“You don’t think I just happened to guess who and where you were, right? I had to do some investigating.” 

“Ah. Yes.” Rhene drew her knees to her chest. “I suppose I should finally ask about your family. I thought to ignore it as long as I could as it felt like an abandonment of mine, but...I want to know.” 

Orius graced her a look of understanding. “Pater remarried a daughter of a politician, Jocasta. Through their marriage, you and I earned five more younger siblings. There are our brothers, Aetios and Briarus, followed by our sisters, Kypris, Merope, and Sebasteia. Aetios and Briarus are at their training, so you’ll first meet our sisters.” 

“I hope we get along well.” 

“As long as you play with Kypris and Merope and let them braid your soft hair, they’ll adore you. Sebasteia loves everyone right now and enjoys being held.” 

“You said the youngest was still a babe, yes." 

“A little over her first year now.” 

“I wonder where I’ll be by her second,” Rhene mused softly to the swirling strokes of richest orange, faded crimson, searing violet, and darkest black. It produced a pause from her brother. 

“I don’t reject your wish to go back. If Pater, our family—if we can have some time to know you, forge a connection...” 

“That is my start. Past that, I’ll figure it out as I go.” Rhene rolled a grape between her fingers. “What is your goal, Orius? Do you have a big, naïve one like me?” 

“I do,” Orius chuckled. He, too, stared at the cosmos in pensive thought. “Pater and I share one. We wish to be strong, to be capable. So much so that we can prevent the tragedies like the one that killed Mater and took you. To prevent suffering.” 

“Then, your goal is to end warfare?” 

“Only slightly more unachievable than ending slavery,” he grinned. “I am willing to try though. To that point, I want to ask for a promise from you.” 

“Yes?” 

“Starting now, can you live your life as fully and greedily as you wish? Speak what’s on your mind? Ask for the things you want? Try new things, find them wanting, and try more things? Rid yourself of all regrets so that, when Melinna calls you home, you can close your eyes peacefully? That is what I want for you.” 

“I—” the grape rolled free of her fingers. “I don’t know if I can be such a greedy person, but...” Rhene smiled, “I’ll try my best.” 

“Thank you, sister.” 

Rhene smiled wider. Orius brushed a strand of loose hair behind her ear, and they returned to spitting seeds towards the setting sun.