NINE

My life back in my time wasn't perfect, but it was mine. Though I had an undergraduate degree, it proved useless, so I never quite managed to get out of working at my part-time cafe job. Not that it was a big deal. It was a decent job, and eventually, I worked my way up to full-time and was on the fast track to becoming a manager. It wasn't the best pay, but for my simple lifestyle, it suited me. My family was pretty normal, too. Mom, dad, brother, sister. Friends? I had those too. We went out for dinner, watched movies, texted all the time. All normal. Too normal. Basic even.

Maybe it was the normalcy of it all that tricked me into thinking it was boring. Even with the pandemic and the way things screeched to a grinding halt, much of my life didn't actually change. My stress levels climbed, the uncertainty of the future was certainly on my mind, and how I would survive working in a customer service position nagged me. Not to mention how stressful everything was. Scary. Uncertain—You get the point.

None of that compared to how I felt as I stood, alone and lost in the middle of a time that wasn't my own. The violence I'd witnessed last night didn't help either.

What I wouldn't give for that normalcy.

Well, I wasn't alone. Not really.

I hugged myself and turned to Paris.

After bandaging his head, I placed him close to the fire to keep him warm. I used one of the cannibal's satchels as a pillow. The sickly pallor was concerning, but his breathing had evened out. I let myself a glimmer of hope. He was going to be alright.

Then I stayed watch until twilight slipped into dawn. I was so wired I couldn't have slept even if I tried. I was too scared to move even a muscle. My legs had long since gone numb and it was like sitting on pins and needles. I kept my vigilance.

Night slowly gave way to morning, black fading to a hazy gray. Shadows solidified into distinguishable shapes. The scary ebbed into peace, although the carnage of the night before remained at the camp. I ignored the bloodied side of the fire, though the images of the androphagi eating each other were seared into my brain forever. Already the iron smell mingling with the last dredges of the smokey fire threatened to spill whatever precious contents I had left in my stomach.

At least we hadn't left our original camp, though with Paris unconscious I didn't know where we were going. In all the chaos and darkness that had blanketed my surroundings, everything looked vastly different now that things were taking form. Even if I wanted to find help for Paris, I had no idea where to go. But we couldn't stay there. The bodies would eventually attract unwanted attention from hungry beasts, and I'd had enough danger for one lifetime.

"Alright, Alexis," I mumbled to myself, "just pick a direction and go. We'll eventually come across people."

I didn't even believe myself.

My sandals had survived the ordeal and I put them on before crouching down next to Paris. I shook his shoulder gently. "Hey, Paris."

Groaning, his head turned, his eyes peeking out from under heavy lids. The thin bandage I'd made was already soaked in blood, gluing the material to his head. I tried to keep the grimace off my face as I peeled it off. There was way too much blood everywhere, the smell of it clogging my throat. Not to mention that that wound was angry red and edged green. Infection.

"We have to go," I continued gently. "We need to find a doctor."

"I can't," he muttered, "Alexis, go without me."

"That's not happening. I got you into this mess, I'll get you out of it, but I can't carry you, so you'll need to help. And point out where which direction we're going."

"I don't remember," he whispered.

"Great," I sighed. "I need you to try and remember, okay?"

That was a problem. We could use the treeline to travel, but who knew if it would take us to civilization or further away from it? We needed supplies too. The androphagi had raided Dryope's satchel, leaving us high and dry—I bit my lip. Glanced over my shoulder towards the campsite. I tried to avoid it, but I had no choice. They had supplies, things we needed.

Everything was so still, though the fire put up a valiant fight to stay alive. It sputtered and cracked, sending spurts of embers pathetically into the air. The smoke was black and thinning as it reached desperately for the gods.

I limped around the fire, avoiding the ravaged carcasses and focused instead on the packs they'd been carrying. My stomach's angry protests spurred me forward. They had to have food in there, right? And possibly water. I'd been so exhausted and alert that only now the real need for survival kicked in.

I yanked open the first bag and rummaged through clothing, random junk before pulling out a handful of trinkets. Most were bronze, but there were a few gold and silver pieces in there as well. Some coins too. They were way bigger than the standard in our time and heavy but unmistakably currency. Well, that was lucky.

Some, however, were teeth. Pristine, ivory teeth of various sizes. None of them were rotten, which meant they had been deliberately picked. There were even a couple that was suspiciously tiny. Young—

"Ugh!" I gasped, wrenching my hand back. The weight of the teeth was heavy on my hand and no amount of rubbing them off did anything to erase that feeling. "Ew, ew, ew, ew."

I dropped that bag, nervous about finding any straggling souvenirs, and went for the second one. There were no teeth in that bag, blessedly, but there were locks of hair. Black, blonde, copper, brown locks bundled into a drawstring, leather bag.

I stared at the bag, and then at the other leather items, I'd come across. They were all pale leather, like tanned hide, and really smooth. The softest and most pliable material.

An unsettling realization dawned on me. I swallowed thickly.

On top of eating humans, the androphagi were collectors. How revolting.

I rummaged through the other two bags until I found some pears, figs, a chunk of hard bread, and what I thought was a waterskin. "Leather"... I tried not to dwell on that. And a golden fruit that I'd never seen before. It looked like a mix between a pear and an apple and was quite firm. The thought of trying some strange fruit was oddly thrilling, especially since my first time trying it would be in the ancient world.

I barely brought the fruit to my lips, and I was literally drooling. I was so hungry. It smelled disarmingly sweet because, as I sank my teeth into the flesh, it felt like I had eaten ten warheads in one go, minus the sweetness. The texture was leathery and, yet at the same time, sandy. However, that was possible.

Gagging, I spat out the piece I'd bitten off and threw the weird fruit into the bushes. Still, the taste lingered. It was like I went and licked some rough hide or something.

"Blek!"

I scrambled for the waterskin and downed its contents, completely forgetting what it had been made of. Only to spit it back up again as the tart liquid hit the back of my throat. Really? Of course, it was wine! It couldn't possibly be water. No, that would be too easy.

"And my luck has run out," I grumbled, reaching for a fig instead. At least I knew those were edible.

It was so unbelievably sweet and soft that I actually moaned in relief. Thank god Paris was out of earshot. I munched on a couple of those as I tried to rip some of the clothing to use as bandages. I tried not to think about how these clothes might not be the cleanest as I tugged and pulled on the fabric. They made it look so easy in the movies...

After grunting and struggling with it until I was sweating, I chanced another drink of the wine and found it was a lot more watered down than I expected. It took the edge off my thirst, though I was careful not to drink too much. As tempting as it was just to get drunk, the last thing I needed was to dehydrate myself. And I needed to save some for Paris.

Eventually, I wore the material down enough that I made a hole. I used the weak spot to get in and managed to tear a good chunk of cloth apart, though it wasn't a piece I could feasibly use to rewrap Paris' head.

By then, the sun was slipping higher and higher into the sky, the day already pulsing with unrelenting heat. I brushed the sweat from my forehead and glanced at the sky. The powdery blue sky was clear save for a few wisps of white clouds. All the colours in this world were so vibrant and striking. A little blinding if you asked me. I was so used to gray concrete and reflective windows everywhere. Not to mention the silence. It was so quiet I could hear the hum of bugs darting in between the trees and all around. Overhead a large bird rode the gentle breeze, and a deer roamed out into the open, grazing whatever grass it could find between the rocks. When it felt my presence, it looked at me square in the eye and, I swear to god, tilted its head in greeting before carrying on.

Despite being lost and vulnerable, I felt a surprising wave of calm wash over me. I had to protect Paris. If I couldn't save him, then the whole story would fall apart.

Just keep telling yourself that, Alexis.

I managed to tear enough adequate bandages from the clothing that after I cleaned my feet as best as I could, I wrapped the cloth around them, taking care not to irritate them further. I put the sandals back on. The other bags revealed a knife, some more fruit, including the nasty gold one I tossed immediately, and other waterskins. One, thankfully, was actually water—in a light-skinned waterskin. I shuddered. Unfortunately, there was no choice. There was also a scratchy blanket that I figured I could use, a tunic that seemed rather big, but it would do in a pinch.

I packed everything into one of the bags and then reached into the pocket of my chiton. Miraculously, the acorn was still there, safely tucked away.

Paris had a hand pressed against his temple when I came back. I dropped to my knees and held out a date.

"Here, I found this."

He took it and when he sat up again, he was strong enough to do so on his own. The tree provided a modicum of shelter from the sun, and as he ate, the colour started to return to his cheeks. I held out the waterskin, careful not to tell him what he was really drinking from. I vowed to throw them out as soon as we found a better replacement.

"Thank you, Alexis," he said after he was done.

"For what?"

"For not leaving me to die."

I scratched my neck nervously. "I would never—"

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I blinked away the sharp tears and nodded. "I-I'm okay. I was more worried about you... Someone needs to look at that. Do you remember where we need to go?"

Paris' frown deepened as he pressed his fingers gingerly to his head. "I think that way. The mountain... where's Mount Ida?"

The thundering sound of hooves bounced off the ground and I scrambled to my feet. Now what?

"Alexis?"

"Stay here," I ordered. "If you need to, hide in the trees. You're in no condition to run."

A dust cloud stormed toward us, led by a rider on horseback. Another horse galloped next to the rider.

The closer the rider drew, the more I realized it wasn't a rider and a horse. In fact, they weren't separate beings at all, but one combined. The torso of a man, the bottom half of a horse... sort of. The front legs were that of a man's. The rear legs and the rump were horse. A navy blue peplos covered the human torso. Gems were stitched into the peplos, giving it the illusion of the night sky. His brown hair was long and held out of his sharp, angular face, which was uncannily human, even right down to the gloriously long and groomed beard.

But, much like Dryope, his eyes betrayed him. They were horse-like, round, black, and surrounded by a thick layer of lashes.

The horse half matched his hair colour. It was lean, the tail braided.

"Oh, gods, it's a centaur," Paris exclaimed, panicked. "Alexis, get out of here! He will hurt you!"

"Calm yourselves," the centaur called as he slowed to a trot. "I come not to harm you, but to help."

He raised his hands, which were so human-like. The horse next to him was velvety black, her mane stunning and well-kept.

"I know of your reputation," Paris shot back. He used the tree for support and reached for me. "You will not harm her."

"You mistake me for my dishonourable brethren," the centaur said, clipped with bitterness. "I was raised by Apollo, and taught the ways of civility. He is more of a father than my own and I owe him greatly for bringing me out of the shame of my family. He sent me to Anatolia to aid you, Alexis."

Paris looked at me, aghast, but I only saw the centaur and the beautiful mare next to him. I had a feeling I knew who it was, but I took a step forward.

"What's your name, centaur?" I asked, tilting my head.

The centaur's lips quirked up and he dipped his head. "I am Chiron, centaur of Pelion and mentor to the heroes."