Odysseus adjusted his pack on his shoulders. They’d stopped off at a hostel near the airport to shower, but it hardly made a difference. Hours and a very long boat ride later, the humid air felt like a second, very amphibian skin.

“Okay, okay, so we’ll die,” Hermes said loudly, and both he and the guide threw up their hands. He picked up his duffel and affixed it like an improvised backpack. When he met Odysseus’ eyes, the look they shared spoke volumes. They were already tired and felt like shit, and it was only going to get worse.

“How did I let Athena get me into this?” Hermes grumbled. He picked an arbitrary spot in the forest and stepped in.

“I thought you were excited for the chance to get out of Kincade, mate.”

“Yeah? Well, you were excited to tag along.” Soft ferns brushed against their legs as Hermes picked his way through a patch of dense green leaves to a space where the ground was clearer, coated with dark soil and dead plant scraps. “So who’s laughing now?”

Odysseus didn’t think either one of them was laughing, but he knew why they’d come. Athena’s determination to murder Achilles left little doubt. Gathering forces and destroying arsenals. His Athena. She’d never stop fighting. Keeping her off Achilles’ scent was going to be the battle of his life.

“I know it’s early to be asking, but do you feel anything? Can you feel Artemis anywhere?”

Hermes lifted his head and scanned the trees. “Nothing yet. Maybe nothing ever. My god-dar was never as good as Athena’s. Even before we started dying. Probably not the answer you were hoping for. Now that we’re here, this place certainly seems a lot bigger than Cassandra’s fingerprint, doesn’t it?”

They walked for a few moments, listening to the sounds of rustling leaves and insects. The jungle did seem larger than Odysseus had imagined. Everything was a wonder; the heaviness of the air, the span of the leaves. And if the noise was any indication, they were surrounded by at least three million bugs.

“Maybe we should’ve brought Cassandra with us.”

“Ha,” Hermes said. “And risk her falling to a snakebite or a poisonous insect? Risk her tripping down a ravine?” He veered around the curve of a large trunk. “Athena would have your tongue just for suggesting it.”

“Maybe,” Odysseus said. “But she might’ve made this go a lot faster.”

*   *   *

They found a spot to camp when the light began to fade, and Odysseus channeled his inner Boy Scout to start a serviceable fire. Hermes disappeared into the trees to hunt but returned carrying a large, gutted fish.

“Cassandra’s speech about endangered animals get to you?” Odysseus asked while Hermes scaled the fish and put it on a spit.

“Shut up. Fish just cook faster.” He rinsed his hands with water from his canteen and rummaged in his bag for a can of potatoes, which he opened and shoved down into the coals. “Athena should’ve packed herbs and butter,” he grumbled, but it wasn’t long before the fish skin was crackling, and the savory smell made their mouths water.

They ate in relative quiet, just a few muttered comments about how surprisingly good the food was. Odysseus ate only a small portion of the nearly two-foot-long fillet, allowing Hermes to polish off the rest, along with most of the potatoes and a chocolate chip granola bar for dessert. Athena still would have wanted him to eat more.

“So,” Odysseus said. “Is there anything I should know about sleeping on the rain forest floor?”

“Hm?” Hermes asked, even though he’d probably heard. He’d been looking up through the canopy, catching a glimpse of stars above the smoky orange glow of the fire. “Oh, uh, not that I can think of. You might want to check yourself for leeches every once in a while.”

“Leeches.” Odysseus grimaced. “Fantastic. And then what? I just yank them off? I think I saw that in a movie once.” He glanced downward, trying to detect any movement or sliminess in his shorts.

Hermes laughed. “Right. Stand By Me. The leech in the kid’s tighty-whities. But don’t just yank it. I packed salt. They’ll drop off.” His smile faded, and he looked back up into the sky.

“Hey. You all right?”

“As all right as a dying god can be, I suppose.”

Odysseus prodded the coals with a stick and sent up a whirl of sparks. “You’re not going to die,” he said. “Athena’s going to win this war.”

The words came easily and sounded confident. But Odysseus couldn’t meet Hermes’ eyes, and he couldn’t stop his jaw from clenching. He needed to believe what he said, that they would win, and that Hermes would live, because it meant that she would live. But he didn’t really know.