all at once, he reared up on his hind legs and sniffed the air. His head tilted, his lip curled to expose the fangs on the left side of his maw.
Atalanta knew what that meant.
Danger!
CHAPTER TEN
A SMALL HERO
H ER EYES DARTED ABOUT , but there was no sign of any of the villagers. They were tucked into their houses, sleeping. So where was this danger?
“What is it, Urso?” she asked.
Nose down, he faced toward one of the houses.
Then she spotted what was worrying him. Even by the dim light of the quarter moon she could see the brightly colored zigzag pattern that ran down its back. Those markings were clear: The snake was venomous and deadly.
Slithering silently, it had now reached one of the cottages and slid under the ill-fitting door.
Evenor’s house.
Atalanta hesitated. For all that she’d surrendered herself to the wildness of the forest, it was one of her father’s teachings that still sang loud in her heart: Help those who need help.
She warned herself. You have time to escape. You owe these people nothing.
But this was Evenor’s house. Of all the people of Eteos, he’d been the one to bring her blankets and food. He’d spoken kindly to her when he needn’t have taken the time.
She sprinted headlong across the open ground toward the cottage, the bear only a few steps behind.
As she ran she thought: The door is probably barred. Everyone knows to be that careful.
Then she noticed a small window beside the door, covered only by a curtain of sackcloth and half lifted because of the softness of the night. She launched herself through the little window, brushing the frame on both sides as she tumbled in. Both her arms felt scraped raw, but nothing could stop her now.
At the thump of her landing, the two children who’d been asleep near the hearth sat bolt upright. The little girl squealed.
Atalanta lunged forward. The snake’s fangs were only an inch from the child’s bare foot.
“Aieeeee!” Atalanta cried as she pinned the serpent to the floor with both hands on the back of its head.
“It’s the wild girl!” the boy exclaimed.
Atalanta recognized that voice. He was one of the boys who’d tormented her only the day before. But there was no time to think of that now. She had to kill the snake. And quickly.
Her father had shown her how to do this. With one hand she gripped the serpent firmly behind the head so it could not turn and bite her. At the same time, her other hand seized it by the tail. Then in a lightning swift motion, she flung the head away from her and whipped the snake through the air by its tail. Its head hit the edge of the stone hearth with a crack that split its skull and knocked a water jar onto the floor, where it shattered.
Atalanta tossed aside the dead creature and was turning to go, when she heard the sound of a curtain being yanked aside.
The hanging that separated the little cottage into two cramped rooms was pulled open, and there stood Evenor with an axe in his hand, his wife cringing behind him.
“She did it!” the boy called out.
“What?” Evenor was baffled.
“She killed the snake!” The boy’s voice suddenly cracked, as if he’d just realized the danger.
“What snake?” Then Evenor spotted the dead serpent coiled on the dirt floor.
“Papa, she just flew in through the window and killed it,” the little girl added. “It would’ve ate us.”
“Blessed Artemis,” her mother cried and ran over to embrace both her children. Then she put them behind her, staring at Atalanta for a long moment with a lessening fear in her eyes.
There were sudden deep-voiced cries of alarm coming from outside. Atalanta understood at once what must be happening. Turning and lifting the heavy beam that barred the door, she bolted outside.
Villagers had heard the noise—of the child’s scream or the shattered jar. Coming out to investigate, they had spotted Urso. A pair of men were already advancing on him with spears.
One was Goryx, who was urging his
Atalanta knew what that meant.
Danger!
CHAPTER TEN
A SMALL HERO
H ER EYES DARTED ABOUT , but there was no sign of any of the villagers. They were tucked into their houses, sleeping. So where was this danger?
“What is it, Urso?” she asked.
Nose down, he faced toward one of the houses.
Then she spotted what was worrying him. Even by the dim light of the quarter moon she could see the brightly colored zigzag pattern that ran down its back. Those markings were clear: The snake was venomous and deadly.
Slithering silently, it had now reached one of the cottages and slid under the ill-fitting door.
Evenor’s house.
Atalanta hesitated. For all that she’d surrendered herself to the wildness of the forest, it was one of her father’s teachings that still sang loud in her heart: Help those who need help.
She warned herself. You have time to escape. You owe these people nothing.
But this was Evenor’s house. Of all the people of Eteos, he’d been the one to bring her blankets and food. He’d spoken kindly to her when he needn’t have taken the time.
She sprinted headlong across the open ground toward the cottage, the bear only a few steps behind.
As she ran she thought: The door is probably barred. Everyone knows to be that careful.
Then she noticed a small window beside the door, covered only by a curtain of sackcloth and half lifted because of the softness of the night. She launched herself through the little window, brushing the frame on both sides as she tumbled in. Both her arms felt scraped raw, but nothing could stop her now.
At the thump of her landing, the two children who’d been asleep near the hearth sat bolt upright. The little girl squealed.
Atalanta lunged forward. The snake’s fangs were only an inch from the child’s bare foot.
“Aieeeee!” Atalanta cried as she pinned the serpent to the floor with both hands on the back of its head.
“It’s the wild girl!” the boy exclaimed.
Atalanta recognized that voice. He was one of the boys who’d tormented her only the day before. But there was no time to think of that now. She had to kill the snake. And quickly.
Her father had shown her how to do this. With one hand she gripped the serpent firmly behind the head so it could not turn and bite her. At the same time, her other hand seized it by the tail. Then in a lightning swift motion, she flung the head away from her and whipped the snake through the air by its tail. Its head hit the edge of the stone hearth with a crack that split its skull and knocked a water jar onto the floor, where it shattered.
Atalanta tossed aside the dead creature and was turning to go, when she heard the sound of a curtain being yanked aside.
The hanging that separated the little cottage into two cramped rooms was pulled open, and there stood Evenor with an axe in his hand, his wife cringing behind him.
“She did it!” the boy called out.
“What?” Evenor was baffled.
“She killed the snake!” The boy’s voice suddenly cracked, as if he’d just realized the danger.
“What snake?” Then Evenor spotted the dead serpent coiled on the dirt floor.
“Papa, she just flew in through the window and killed it,” the little girl added. “It would’ve ate us.”
“Blessed Artemis,” her mother cried and ran over to embrace both her children. Then she put them behind her, staring at Atalanta for a long moment with a lessening fear in her eyes.
There were sudden deep-voiced cries of alarm coming from outside. Atalanta understood at once what must be happening. Turning and lifting the heavy beam that barred the door, she bolted outside.
Villagers had heard the noise—of the child’s scream or the shattered jar. Coming out to investigate, they had spotted Urso. A pair of men were already advancing on him with spears.
One was Goryx, who was urging his
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