Atalanta and the Arcadian Beast by Jane Yolen Page A

companion, “Finish him! Finish him now!”
    Standing upright, Urso slashed the air with his claws, a stance that was clearly threatening. But the men stood their ground and soon the rest of the villagers joined them, forming a semicircle of spears, pitchforks, and torches around the beleaguered bear.
    Evenor had come out of the house to see what was going on, his axe still in his hand.
    Turning, Atalanta seized his scarred arm.
    “Please,” she cried. “He won’t hurt anyone. He only came to help me.”
    “So she talks after all,” said Phreneus, rubbing his beaky nose.
    Just then Urso swung a great claw and dashed aside the nearest spear point. The men moved back, well away from his reach, muttering uncertainly to one another.
    Evenor lowered his axe. “Don’t provoke him,” he called out. “Can’t you see it’s the girl he’s concerned about?”
    “They’re both equally dangerous,” said Goryx. “Press on!” As if taking his own advice, he darted forward and scraped a gash across the bear’s shoulder with the end of his spear.
    With a roar like an avalanche, Urso lunged at him, trapping the spear beneath his paw and snapping the shaft in two with his weight.
    Staggering back, Goryx squealed as if he—and not the bear—had been blooded. “Bring up the nets! Bring up the nets!”
    Two men ran up, unrolling a rope net between them.
    “No, stop!” Atalanta screamed, but she was too late.
    The villagers flung the net over the bear. Its rope coils covered him and soon Urso flailed about, bellowing his rage, struggling to get free.
    One man tried to press home too soon. His spear sailed harmlessly over the bear’s hump. Urso reached out with the one paw that was not trapped and clubbed the man to the ground.
    Atalanta moaned and tried to run forward, but strong hands held her, almost throwing her to the ground.
    “No!” pleaded a voice. “Let her be!”
    It was Evenor’s wife, a long dark cloak around her nightclothes, running forward with her children right behind.
    “She saved our children.”
    All faces turned away from the struggling bear to look at the family with astonishment.
    “It’s true,” Evenor confirmed in a commanding voice. “We owe her a debt. She killed a snake in our house. She’s a hero, that girl.”
    There were some disgruntled mutterings from the men, and Phreneus called out, “A hero? Awfully small for such.”
    “She did. She did,” called out the little girl from under her mother’s sheltering arm. “Caught a serpent and killed it. With her hands! It was ready to eat me.”
    Her brother, braver, stood in front of his mother. He held the dead snake by the tail. “See! She could have just run off. But she saved Daphne instead.”
    “You heard them,” said Evenor. “Let go of the girl. And let the bear alone. It’ll be tame once she’s loose.”
    The villagers were reluctant to obey, but Atalanta broke free and ran straight to Urso.
    “It’s all right,” she told him, punctuating her words with reassuring snorts and growls. “Nobody’s going to hurt you now.”
    “She’s mad,” came Goryx’s voice. “That’s plain enough. As soon as we’ve killed the bear we should dig a pit to keep her in.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN
A SIGN FROM THE GODS
    C AN’T YOU SEE THE gods have sent us a sign?” Evenor’s wife demanded. “We were never meant to harm this animal or the wild girl.” Her hands tightened on her children’s shoulders.
    Little Daphne broke from her mother’s grasp and ran over to put her arms around Atalanta, which brought her close to the bear’s claws.
    There were mutterings in the crowd. Evenor started toward them, but his wife held him back. “Don’t worry, Evenor. The bear won’t harm Daphne. Can’t you see—the wild girl won’t let him.”
    “That bear broke my spear,” Goryx complained. “He’s nobody’s tame pet.”
    One or two of the men grunted their agreement.
    “You broke his skin first,” Atalanta retorted, turning to glare