"We won~," Cyd said with a lazy grin, flopped flat on his back like he'd just finished a nap in a meadow and not, you know, helped suplex a monster boar the size of a siege tower.
Honestly? Easier than expected. He'd been ready to bust out poison like with the Nemean lion, maybe even toss in a prayer or two. But no—this porker decided to size itself up like a balloon on festival day, leaving its brain wide open. One arrow later—down it went.
"Mhm. We won."
Atalanta was lying directly on top of him, arms crossed under her chest like she wasn't using him as a glorified pillow. Her voice was flat, but she nodded like it was just another Tuesday.
"Um…" Cyd twitched his fingers, lifting his head. "You planning to… move anytime soon?"
"Nope. I'm tired. I'm sleeping."
She curled in, eyes shut like she was perfectly content to nap on his ribs. Maybe she was. He honestly couldn't tell.
He sighed. Carefully, he slid his hand behind her knees. "Alright. I'll carry you."
"Suit yourself," she murmured. "You've already been getting handsy while I was injured, anyway."
Cyd's breath caught. "That was—I wasn't—!"
He winced. "Okay. Yeah. My bad."
He scooped her up, expecting some snark, or a knee to the ribs. But she surprised him by wrapping her arms around his neck without so much as opening her eyes.
Huh. That was… new. And kind of dangerous. He didn't know if she was relaxed, asleep, or just plotting something.
They reached the downed boar—still twitching, legs jerking like it hadn't realized it was dead yet. Cyd stared at the oversized corpse and nudged it with his foot.
"We are never finishing all this meat," he muttered.
Atalanta cracked one eye open. "We can't carry that hide either. It's massive."
He began circling it, calculating how much meat he could strip and how much hide to cut before it turned gross. Then—
Rustle.
Something white darted behind a tree.
Artemis peeked from behind the trunk, her silver-blue hair spilling forward like moonlight in motion. She pressed her cheek to the bark and whispered to herself.
"Hmph. The air around them feels… exclusionary."
Her big, pale blue eyes narrowed. "It's not fair. I was gone for two minutes and now it's all snuggles and pig corpses."
Still, her instincts screamed: Don't interrupt. Not unless she wanted a very embarrassed Atalanta to try strangling Cyd like a snake on caffeine.
Not that that stopped Artemis from wanting to barge in anyway.
Snap.
A twig broke nearby.
Artemis's eyes sharpened. Multiple footsteps. Not divine. Human. And getting closer.
She frowned. "Tch. Of course. They show up now? If they mess this up, I swear I'm not just throwing piglets this time…"
Cyd's eyes narrowed as he turned toward the treeline. A group of men emerged, led by a guy with a familiar, very punchable face.
"Huh. Aren't you that one guy—uh, what's his name…"
"Don't remember," Atalanta mumbled, still not opening her eyes.
"It's Meleagros!" the guy snapped, visibly offended. "We literally fought together. Ring any bells?"
"Oh, right!" Cyd pointed at him like he'd solved a riddle. "You're the guy who ran crying to Heracles about your back hurting."
Meleagros looked like he wanted to sink into the earth.
Then he spotted the boar twitching behind them—and froze.
"You… actually killed it?"
"Kinda. It's in death spasms. We basically wrecked it," Cyd said, adjusting his grip on Atalanta.
Meleagros scratched the back of his head, clearly torn. "Right. See, the boar was the objective, but so was the honor. You know—trophy, skin, all that."
He trailed off as his uncles—three thick-necked men with too much confidence and not enough manners—brushed past Cyd like he wasn't even there and started poking at the boar like they were claiming it for a Sunday roast.
"Hey—!"
Cyd blinked. That weird feeling in his spine, like winter had crawled into his bones? It was back. He glanced at Meleagros, then to Atalanta, who looked half-asleep, but definitely annoyed.
Not good.
"That boar was taken down by Cyd and Atalanta," Meleagros said loudly, stepping up. "It's their kill. Their honor."
"Pfft. It's still alive, isn't it?" said one uncle, kicking the twitching monster. "Whoever finishes it off gets the prize. Rules are rules."
"Yeah," said the second uncle, drawing a sword. "Besides, no way a woman and a scrawny kid managed this. Must've been divine luck."
Cyd gave Meleagros a slow, pained look. The kind that said: Wow. Your uncles are cartoon villains.
"I'm the leader of this hunt," Meleagros said, stepping between his uncle and the boar. "And we didn't kill it. They did. You're disgracing the name of Kalydon."
Cyd raised a brow. Okay, points for the guy.
High in the trees, Artemis paused, her hand still holding a basket of squealing piglets.
She watched, curious. She was this close to flinging pork missiles, but she figured she'd wait and see if Meleagros manned up.
Then Uncle #2 snorted and yelled to the crowd. "Who believes those two actually did this?! We're the ones who'll finish it!"
He raised his sword.
Cyd sighed.
Atalanta opened one eye. "Can we go now?"
"I said," Meleagros growled, "this boar is theirs."
Then he grabbed his uncle's wrist mid-swing.
"You little—!" the uncle snapped, but—
Schk.
Blood sprayed. A spear punched through his throat.
Everyone froze.
The oldest uncle went for his sword. Meleagros turned, blade flashing in a tight arc—
Shing.
The second fell.
Cyd whistled. "Wow. And I thought I was dramatic."
Meleagros dropped his bloodied weapon into the dirt. "The boar is theirs. Any objections?"
Dead silence.
"Uh…" Cyd raised a hand. "We only really want one patch of hide. You can have the rest."
Meleagros looked at him like he'd sprouted wings. "You're… serious? You're giving it up?"
"I'm not here for trophies," Cyd said with a shrug. "Just needed to get rid of the problem."
Sunlight caught in his silver-white hair, making it glow like a halo.
Meleagros stared at him, stunned.
"…You're something else," he said, voice quiet. "A pure-hearted hero. Better than me."
"Ehh?" Cyd tilted his head. "Kinda feels like you're projecting, dude