Atalanta and the Arcadian Beast by Jane Yolen Read Free Book Online Page B

among the mud brick cottages. Atalanta opened one eye and peeked after them. Then, smelling food, she sat up.
    Evenor approached her without fear, but he was careful to stay outside the measure of her rope. He set a pair of painted pottery bowls on the ground near her. One was filled with water while the other contained pieces of dried fruit, some scraps of salted meat, and a half loaf of old bread that had been softened in olive oil.
    “I’ll bring you some blankets to keep you warm tonight,” he said, looking up at the darkening sky. “It’s getting cold again. This summer seems so unpredictable. At least it shouldn’t rain.”
    She didn’t answer him. The villagers knew nothing about her. Nothing! Not even that she could talk.
    “No one will have you in their home, you see,” Evenor went on, speaking to her as if she understood him but clearly believing she did not. It was just the way she talked to Urso. “No more than they would a wolf or a wild boar. My wife is of the same mind, and I suppose I can’t blame her. We’ve the children to consider.”
    He sat on his haunches and waited while Atalanta stuffed the food into her mouth by the handful. While she ate, she stared at the long scar that ran down his right arm, willing him to explain it to her.
    As if he understood, Evenor pointed to the scar. “It was a boar I thought dead did this,” he said. “I got too close and he’d just enough life left to pay me back for killing him. It just goes to show, you can’t be too careful when you’re dealing with wild things.” He winked at her.
    She refused to wink back. Let him guess, she thought. Let him try and guess. She would not help.
    Instead, she finished her meal and pushed the bowls away. She would eat his food to keep up her strength, but she wouldn’t thank him for it.
    Evenor sighed and gathered up the empty bowls. “I’ll be back with the blankets, as I promised.” He left, going into one of the mud-brick houses.
    He kept his promise, bringing out two threadbare pieces of cloth that scarcely covered her middle. But he didn’t come to see her the next day. She guessed that he’d gone off hunting. Or to work in the fields with a long, curved scythe cutting grain. She’d seen some of the men head to the fields. Atalanta was amazed to find she missed him.
    A woman—probably Evenor’s wife—came out of the same house and set down bowls of food and water within Atalanta’s reach before hurrying away.
    Some children gathered around while she ate. They started calling her names, but Atalanta bided her time. As soon as they ventured close enough, she let fly with the water bowl. She caught one boy on the side of his head breaking the bowl in the process. He ran off howling for his mother, blood streaming down his neck.
    She was glad when night came, and she could settle down under her thin blankets. This time she slipped almost immediately into a deep sleep.
    Something rough and wet rubbing against her cheek woke her. Opening her eyes blearily, she saw a bulk looming dark against the quarter moon.
    “Urso,” she whispered.
    He stopped licking her face and gave her a wide bear grin.
    Rubbing her face against his neck, she made a soft growling sound, assuring him that she was all right. His answering growl was a lot deeper and louder, like the rumble of nearby thunder.
    “Quiet, boy. There may be folks awake yet,” she whispered to him. “How is your paw?” She pointed at it.
    He held up his right foot. It seemed neither swollen nor scarred.
    “Good. I’m glad of that,” she told him. “Now I need help.”
    She showed him the rope, and he understood at once that it tethered her to the stake. Digging his claws into it, he ripped the fibers apart shred by shred. When the last few cords snapped, Atalanta jumped to her feet. She took hold of the leather collar and tried to pull it loose, but it wouldn’t budge.
    “Time for that later,” she said.
    He gave her another rumbling answer. Then,