“I know you’re going to try to stop me,” she said. “I know you feel like you have to.”

“That’s how it is, isn’t it? You and I, we both do what we feel we have to.” He opened the door and got out. Athena followed, and the sun warmed her cheeks against the mountain air, cooler than in the lowland. Odysseus walked slowly into the trees.

“But you understand, don’t you?” he asked. “I dragged him into this, back then. Dragged him off to war. I won’t do it again.”

Athena slammed her door. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. Down deep, he wanted to go.” She gestured up the thinning trail. Somewhere overhead, some kind of squirrel or glider shook the leaves of the low, broad branches of a gum tree. It was a skittering sound. The sound of prey.

Today I am a huntress, like my sister Artemis.

“Let’s go.”

*   *   *

They’d hidden him well, far up the mountain and off the trail. Athena and Odysseus walked miles through the trees. Achilles must be so alone, living on wallaby meat and talking to birds.

Athena closed her eyes. Pity was for later. After it was done.

“You’re not doing something stupid, are you?” she asked Odysseus’ back as he led her through the trees.

“Something stupid like what?”

“Like taking me the wrong way.”

“I’d only be able to stall you for so long. I’d starve before you would.” He grasped the twisting gray bark of an alpine ash, digging his fingers in and dragging himself by. He was tired. And he was right. He could only stall her for so long.

Finally, a faint hint of smoke and cooked meat touched Athena’s nose. Dull, chemical smells from cleaners and plastics. A few more steps and she saw it: a tiny house in the trees. Barely large enough to be called a cabin. Chairs fashioned from whittled wood sat in the yard around a small table. A boy sat in one with his back bent over, reading a book. Long, hanging blond hair obscured most of his face.

Athena moved behind a tree and let Odysseus go ahead. She didn’t recognize Achilles like she’d thought she would. And there was something peculiarly sad about the extra chairs. Like he was always expecting friends who might never show up.

Athena saw the exact moment Achilles realized someone was coming. Just a slight tensing of muscle and an almost imperceptible turn of his head. No other tells, and no fear. He didn’t turn until Odysseus called out his name, and then the smile on his face was broad. She noted the power in his stride and his sharp green eyes. The joy on his face at seeing his friend.

Don’t let him fool you. He’s an atom bomb. He’s got to go.

“Ody!” He held out his arms, and for a minute Athena thought she wouldn’t have to do much of anything, that Odysseus might fall in line. But then Achilles’ face changed from happy to wary.

“Run, Achilles,” Odysseus shouted. “Run!”

Achilles saw her before she sprang, before she burst out from behind the ash tree like a flushed bird. He spun and ran, dodging the table and chairs. He dashed around the corner of his shelter and sprinted farther up the mountain, lightning fast.

Her pupils zeroed in on his fleeing back. The scent of blood in her nose was so strong she didn’t see Odysseus throw the chair. It struck her shoulder, and she glared at him.

“Don’t!” he yelled. “Talk to him at least!”

But Odysseus was behind her already. She ran, following the glimpse of Achilles’ blond hair as it darted through the ashes. The first trap was a total surprise. Her foot landed square in the steel jaws, and it snapped closed on her ankle. She barely had time to inhale before the snare engaged and dragged her onto her back and into the air.

“Athena!” Odysseus stopped short below her. There was no pain in her foot yet, but blood was traveling the wrong way up her leg, soaking hot through her sock. She gritted her teeth, gripped the trap’s jaws, and pried them open. Then she swung her legs under her and dropped to the ground.

“Are you all right?” Odysseus asked.

“Don’t follow.” She knelt and assessed her foot. Not broken.

“What?”

“Don’t follow!” She stood and pushed him backward. “He’s rigged the path with traps, don’t you understand?”

“I can watch for traps as well as you can,” he said stubbornly.

There was no time to argue. Who knew where Achilles was headed, or how far ahead he was already. But she didn’t want to watch for traps. She wanted to run right through them. Only with Odysseus there, she couldn’t take the chance.