Wandering Island: The Dawn of Apollo

By John Hymas

A novel weaving together history and fantasy, mythology and magic, dramatising Homer's classical 'Hymn to Apollo' in the spirit of Mary Renault's "The King must Die" or Manda Scott's "Boudicca". A young girl from the floating island of Delos travels to Thera to become a priestess. She shows promise but suffe

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maple Publishers
• Release date: Dec 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781915492609

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Wandering Island

The Dawn of Apollo

By

John Hymas

Wandering Island: The Dawn of Apollo

Author: John Hymas

Copyright © John Hymas (2022)

The right of John Hymas to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

First Published in 2022

ISBN 978-1-915492-59-3 (Paperback)

978-1-915492-60-9 (E-Book)

Book cover design and Book layout by:

White Magic Studios

www.whitemagicstudios.co.uk

Published by:

Maple Publishers

1 Brunel Way,

Slough,

SL1 1FQ, UK

www.maplepublishers.com

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or translated by any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the author.

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Book 1

Before

The Necklace of Wandering Stars

The Floating Island

Practice makes Perfect

A Shot in the Dark

Mouse Girl

Best Friends Forever

The Wealth of Trade

Red Gold

The Simple Life

The Grand Temple

She has Spoken

Across the Water

Welcome to Thera

Thief in the Night

Hidden Away

The Flower Maiden

Bull Dance

Intermission

Journey Home

Welcome to Delos

Forsaken but not Forgotten

Intermission

Divine Intervention

The Hunt

Book 2

Daphana the Mathetes

An Unexpected Gift

Danger Approaches

The Raid

Lost and Found

Renewal

Lost, not Found

Deja Vu

Intermission

Moving On

Pirates

Upheaval

Return to Delos

In Hiding

Birth and Death

After

Glossary

Acknowledgements

Before

free upon the open sea thou didst float; and thy name of old was Asteria, since like a star thou didst leap from heaven into the deep moat – Callimachus, c.275 BC

She made light work of bounding up the steep cliff, pink, orange, sparkly, orange. A final pull with her hands and at the top Asteria grinned and accepted the achievement as her due, after all she was immortal rather than some puny human. It was pleasing to win the little game of keeping each limb on a different coloured strata of rock, though her sister wouldn’t even be trying. The enormous sky was not yet fully dark but already stars speckled brightly across the heavens. The firmament held steady, nothing broke ranks to interfere with the stately cosmic order. She was almost disappointed, she enjoyed her job of clearing up any stray fragments of earth and was good at it. She greeted her sister lumbering up beside her, Leto, you made it.

Humph, panted her large and weighty sister, at least it will be easier going down. She snorted and wiped the sweat from her brow as her breathing gradually slowed. Her short, dark hair limply stuck to her face.

Asteria smoothed her long, wavy locks and announced, I won again. She wasn’t sure why Leto liked to come along, it wasn’t really her thing but she appreciated the company. They were both daughters of the titans of sky and earth but, as sisters sometimes do, each embodied one part of the whole; Leto the earth and Asteria the sky. They sat for a while in comfortable silence on the high, narrow circle of rock, surrounded by grey sea with a little island nestled within. Asteria scanned above with practised, divinely attuned eyes while Leto placidly gazed below into the quiet, darkening night. A twinkle of light from one of a large cluster of buildings on the island caught Leto’s attention. She could see human activity elsewhere too; lights, a fire, the straight, chiselled stone edges that marked their building. They were all ugly and forgettable but for some reason those on the inner island particularly bothered her. She waved her arms, it looks like a big crater, she remarked, like a big one of your rocks landed here before.

It hadn’t, and she would never manage a rock big enough for that, but Asteria didn’t bother to explain as she had spotted a jagged rock spinning far above. Seen one! she cried and flew up towards it. Her heart leapt with excitement as she approached the small, pocked lump; it was big enough to land on the ground with a satisfying crash. The bigger the better she felt, and courted it gently with no hint of the destruction ahead in her soft voice. You feel so good, so powerful, she said, let me help you light up the sky in spectacular glory. She smiled at the thought of the actually rather dull lump of rock in front of her shattering into thousands of pieces. Her golden necklace was wound in place around her neck, her white silk gown billowed and flapped in stark contrast with the still, inky darkness all around. She looked down and her necklace’s fine yellow threads tickled reassuringly on her chest. For a moment she couldn’t locate her frumpy sister, dressed as usual in a forgettable dark gown and practised at staying in the background. She waved as her superhuman vision picked her out standing on the cliff top. Where to, sister? she called out.

Leto scratched her nose then pointed, right there! She’d realised why those buildings were especially offensive, father said the stupid mortals agreed not to build there. She didn’t know the details but she felt his edicts were especially important now their father was in prison.

Mortals often forgot things, Asteria sympathised but they were indeed pretty stupid. Where? She laughed loudly, I can’t see! Show me properly. It was her standard tease, knowing her slow sister was uncomfortable with heights and probably planned to jump straight down into the water as soon as they were done.

Sister! Leto shouted back even louder, stop it! You can see perfectly well.

Asteria shrugged and stuck out her tongue, stick in the mud! I won’t be long. A good target, she realised, it was terribly amusing to see any kind of disturbance make them run around like ants.

The rock was cold and hard but softened as she lovingly cradled it, testing its weight. She breathed gently on it and eyed the land below. The rock creaked and sighed as she held it firmly with both hands in front of her. She took a deep breath and YES! she screamed as her legs flicked and kicked. Always attractive, once up to speed with a rock in hand she was a bright haired beauty, shining with light visible throughout the world. They whizzed forward and began to arc downwards as the goddess expertly adjusted her balance. Whee! she laughed as the thickening air streamed past. Her hands tingled and the rock began to glow. Asteria behind it glowed too, with excitement and passion and a tail of thousand sparkling lights growing swiftly behind her. She braced herself for impact and didn’t hear Leto shout a warning or disappear, as she had predicted, into the sea over the far side of the cliffs. Suddenly a cross current unbalanced her exquisitely weighted flight. Her gown snapped painfully in the wind against her leg. She exclaimed and lifted her head, twisted around to see a hand caressing her tail of sparks and fire. It got worse, behind that was a face; regal, proud and vaguely familiar. The hand roughly pushed further up towards her legs and the face’s nostrils flared wide. Bloody Zeus, she realised. An arrogant young god, he’d shown his cruelty and was insatiable since he’d won the ten year long war against the titans and there was no one left to stand up to him. He had imprisoned her parents and all of their generation. He thought she owed him something because he’d allowed her to continue her job as sky maiden. Though a very different being to her, as the son of her uncle and aunt they were actually related, her cousin she supposed. Yuck, she thought, he wasn’t going to have her for sure and she raced off over the sea, the island no longer a target. Zeus, stricken by the slim heat of Asteria’s body, wanted more. She slipped away from his hands and he spread himself wide to become an enormous eagle. As he flew in pursuit his powerful wingbeats seemed to suck the air away from Asteria, who found herself tiring and dropping further. She tucked the rock under one arm and sped on, twisting and turning to avoid the eagle’s talons. The image of Zeus’ leering face really turned her stomach but it was harder and harder to keep going. The sight of a flock of quail making their annual journey over the sea gave her an idea. The rock was weighing her down and she flew towards them to drop it into the sea with a mighty splash. Clouds of steam mostly hid the rock bouncing and hopping about on the water and causing a squawking commotion amongst the birds. She disguised herself in the flurry of wings and spray; her gown melted into a soft down and she sprouted feathers, claws and a beak. She was one quail amongst many, hopefully he wouldn’t know which one. She felt strange and clumsy. Her necklace slipped off into the water below, the air around her felt thick and the sun glowed hot on her back, her tail was short and not at all sparkling. She chirped and flapped her wings, unsure of this new form but she had no time to think as talons painfully raked into her. She squirmed away with the loss of a few feathers and in growing panic splashed uncontrollably into the sea. She managed a great gulp of air but without her necklace and in the cold water she could only sink, unable to change back to her old or any other form. Zeus had no power over the sea, the eagle behind her banked and flew in search of other prey, disappointed his quarry had got away but still hungry and horny.

Before it sunk very far Asteria found and clung onto the still warm rock. She folded her wings around it and it broke apart to reform itself around her. She rose out of the sea, water streaming down her rocky back. Asteria the quail rock paddled slowly back towards her sister. Well this is different, she thought. She was far too heavy to fly and wasn’t even sure she wanted to. Her memories of flitting through the sky as a star maiden were quickly growing dimmer and her simple dense bulk was unarguable. She had lots of air pockets inside her and could at least float. She had escaped Zeus, she thought, but at what cost? She felt the sea move around her and spent no more time lamenting the life she had lost. Now she was reborn, into well she wasn’t quite sure what. She experimented flicking her tail and sticking out a leg to move actually rather pleasingly in the water. There was no sign of her sister, the encircled island or anything else for that matter. She yawned, it felt good to simply close her eyes and drift. Asteria was no more, and she wondered what her new name should be. Quail island? Too ungainly. She remembered surfacing just now in her new form. I shall be called Brizo, ‘to slumber’, and this new island is Delos, she decided, ‘coming to light’.

1

The Necklace of Wandering Stars

Thera had everything going for it; the beauty of its coloured stone, the wealth of skilled industry, a fantastic location in the middle of the Aegean sea. It comprised two distinct islands; the oval shaped, low lying Endothera closely nestled in the middle of rough, mountainous Exothera. In the middle of Endothera sat the great temple, a wonder to behold, at last beautifully and lavishly finished. It was one single imposing building, colourfully painted and several times larger than any other on either island. Debris from masons, plasterers and decorators had been cleared, plans long since made of the building’s organisation were being put into effect. It was rectangular in shape and two floors high with a smaller, square third floor and cellars towards the far side. The ground floor was further elongated towards the sprawling town of Therawaja with a large courtyard open to the sky. Here was the home of the Ariadne, where she and her priestesses now spent most of their time, along with the Minos and a multitude of others running the administrative and sacred centre of Thera, the jewel in the crown of Keftiu¹ settlements.

The night was clear and balmy, any sea breeze stilled by the jagged hills sheltering the inner island. The high priestess Ariadne sat watching the stars on the quiet of the temple balcony with her assistant Rea. Like all Keftiu she was dusky skinned with dark, curly hair and dark almond shaped eyes. Again like most folk she was broad shouldered but her height, combined with the dignity of her position, made her particularly imposing. Her face was too craggy to be called pretty, her body buxom, narrow waisted and wide hipped but imposing rather than shapely. It mattered not, she had magnetism and authority that came from within as much as from her role as the queen bee in the centre of the hive. Another spark sailed across the sky before fading into the majesty of the steady, familiar starlight. The milky glow of the heavenly road arched high across the field of stars above. There was no moon, the flat sea wasn’t far across a pasture of short cropped grass but they were indistinguishable in the gloom. Amazing, remarked Rea, though maybe there were more last year. She leaned forward in her chair and painfully stretched her shoulders. We’d see better away from the temple, she suggested hopefully.

Go ahead, replied the Ariadne, I’m content here. All is well with the world, and it feels good to rest with the temple at my back. She didn’t add she could sense perfectly well what was going on with her eyes closed. Her snake lifted its striped head and moved sinuously over her shoulders, sliding onto her raised hand and weaved itself gently around her. Semi domesticated house snakes were no big deal, but usually kept themselves hidden away. The Ariadne had a special bond as the snake woman, priestess of Ophea the snake goddess. This one, a leopard snake, was capable of biting but was not aggressive or poisonous.

Rea stood up and straightened, I’m seizing up, I need to move. She was keen to wander over the open grassland but was as usual reluctant to leave the Ariadne’s presence. The Ariadne was used to Rea and maintained her equanimity, but it was lost soon enough with a commotion from the doorway behind them. Ariadne! came a shout, followed by a short, flustered looking priestess. Ariadne, you should know, some fishermen were gutting a shark at the docks and found something inside it.

Go on, Elissa, said the Ariadne.

It’s a large gold chain, like nothing I’ve seen before. It’s obviously a gift from the mother, and I was called over but I don’t know what to do with it. It has some import, but is beyond my comprehension.

Very well, I will come. She had enjoyed her downtime, but she couldn’t ignore this and did like to be involved. Looks like you’ll get your exercise after all, she said to Rea, come to the docks with me?

Despite the hour and the strong smell of blood and fish in the warmth of early summer a crowd at the dock was drawn by the extraordinary find. Next to the shark’s wet carcass was a long, chunky gold chain laid out along the ground with seven short, finer gold chains spaced evenly from the middle. Incredible, whispered the Ariadne as she stood over it. She started a low hum and the crowd took a step back. Elissa, Rea, take an end each and hold it up please. The seven fine chains dangled and swung, each weighted with variously coloured uncut gemstones. The yellow metal gleamed and shone in the torchlight as the crowd jostled closer. At irregular intervals along the thicker chain was a larger link, inscribed with delicate lines and curving patterns. She carefully moved the milky white gem to her forehead, clearing her mind to receive whatever was there. I cleaned it up, said Elissa, and untangled the knots to spread it out. There’s a clasp, at Rea’s end, like the clasp of a necklace.

The necklace of wandering stars, the Ariadne said loudly. Your origin is lost on the tide of forgetfulness. I don’t know where you came from, perhaps the divine hand herself from the fires of the sun, tempered in the cold depths of the sea. Whoever fashioned you and whatever they called you, she addressed the necklace, I honour you and your decision to come here. She lifted it slightly with both hands, closing her eyes and bowing her forehead towards it. Ophea did not know this thing, she realised, but she didn’t need her goddess to know it was special. She opened her eyes as the larger links glowed briefly with a soft, even light. She gasped, Rea, Elissa, put it down and fetch a large cloth, the most beautiful you can find. We will take this wonder to the temple.

The priest Amaju had sat in contemplation on the high flat rooftop of the temple for some time. Stillness was easy for him, he was dedicated and disciplined. It had not always been so; he used to be a carpenter, an impatient even shoddy one he now realised. In his youth, staring closely at a gnarly block of wood a slip with the chisel gave him a vivid red scar across his face. It might have blinded him, instead like a blindfold torn from his eyes he had a sudden, powerful revelation of the world shining in the beating heart of the great mother. He showed great commitment, passion and eagerness to learn as he bent his desires to knowing, as fully as possible, the state of bliss he had experienced. He was a late entrant to the priesthood, one of very few male priests and soon became the only one of the central temple on Endothera.

The shooting stars in no way distracted his trance even as one of the bright arrows ever so slowly but ever so surely arced towards him. He calmly, quietly watched it coming closer and closer, indeed it gave no cause for alarm. The silky finger, strangely both cold and hot, shocking and soothing, spiralled without slowing or deviating straight into the invisible eye in the centre of his forehead. One blink and it disappeared and a jolt of adrenalin kicked him out of his trance. He uncrossed his legs and stood up, wobbling slightly as blood returned to his feet and a dizziness enfolded him. Everything looked as it did before but something strange just happened, though he had no clue what. There was a glow to the west and he watched a mist forming over the sea gradually become a woman, an enormous foggy goddess looking at him. Her lips parted and she breathed. She had been wronged in ancient times and the world had forgotten her. Amaju wobbled some more and strained his ears to hear what she was saying. He couldn’t make it out, but the way her lips moved was entrancing. He felt briefly but intensely sexual as she smiled and faded away.

He fell to his hands and feet, panting and overcome with emotion; longing and gratitude mixed with an unaccustomed and unfathomable physical desire. He felt a swelling at his crotch and sat back to grasp himself firmly. It felt good as he squeezed and groaned. After a moment he dropped his hand and clenched both fists. No, he would save himself and save his power. Breathing heavily through his nose, he felt his jaw and whole body clench up as a wave of emotion rose up inside. Tears came to his eyes as he sobbed and stood up; only slapping his hands down onto his bent knees stopped him falling back to the ground. He stared through a mist in his eyes as well as over the sea. She would understand all his loss and longing. Where had she gone? A panic gripped his chest as he couldn’t make her out or even be sure where she had appeared before. Come back to me soon, he whispered, I will save myself for you.

He didn’t actually save himself for long. The evening after the rooftop experience he’d finished leading ceremony and prayer in the temple for a small group of families. It went well he thought as he left the chamber, congratulating himself on his depth and passion. Thank you, a young woman interrupted his reverie, I enjoyed your guidance. Could you please bless this incense for me? He looked at her. She was unattractive, thin and dirty, but the way her faded green checked robe moved over her bony hips was so provocative. He couldn’t help himself, dizzy with brimming sexuality he heard himself say, darling, you can enjoy me so much more. Despite spending years in patient meditation and training his impatience was back, insistent and uncontrollable in a new way. Did he really say that? He had to do something as her eyes widened in surprise and uncertainty so he stepped closer to grasp her arm firmly, come with me, he commanded with a particular tone of voice. She was mesmerised by the fixed intensity and vastness of his eyes, and allowed herself to be led away. He didn’t want to dwell on what he did with her. He knew it was highly unethical, and made sure she left dazed and confused, but strangely more satisfying because of that. Later he lay alone on his sleeping mat, eyes closed and blocked out the sounds of the busy temple. He replayed the course of events, teeth clenched to prevent a satisfied smile, maybe she’d been sent to him to enjoy. He thanked the misty goddess’s memory in his mind. The girl wouldn’t say anything, he thought, and no one else knew. He let out his breath in a sigh and turned over to sleep.

2

The Floating Island

In the human world time passes differently than for divine beings, for Zeus and Leto perhaps it was only yesterday but humans had long forgotten when and how Delos was made. Everything also looks different and Delos looked like one of many small, rocky and inhospitable islands of the Aegean. Most folk kept a wide berth, ships that did come near were guided away by turbulent winds and those that glimpsed it could make out little through the mists and haze that shrouded the island. Should the mists abate and the winds be kind there was little to see but rock and sand, scrub and thorn. It was slightly over twenty stadion² along its longest length, half that at most in width and half that again from the highest point to the underside of the island under the water, a rough shaped cubic mile of rock. Looks can be deceptive; Delos was famously unique in meandering on the waves, unattached to the sea floor. Mostly it slowly and unpredictably drifted but despite this and the shortage of fresh water and natural resources it was home for a small group of Keftiu. The Delians knew little of other places and lived as they, their mothers and their mothers’ mothers had always lived, in service to the goddess. Isolated was how they liked it, they didn’t notice the physical challenge and hardship and only occasionally the absence of men. There were around fifteen hardy souls living in a small village, Spiti, with a few more in the temple on the hill, perhaps twenty islanders in total.

The village functioned harmoniously, people were naturally unselfish and looked out for each other. Many things were done together, like the winter days when wood was cut, gathered and stacked to season. They were so few; no cook or carpenter, leader or follower, no wealth and no poverty, no thieves, beggars, overwork or laziness. The women fished, kept some goats for wool, milk and cheese, and tended as best they could a small patch of barley and vegetables. Further afield nuts, berries, olives and wild greens such as artichoke and leek could be foraged. They were self sufficient in food, but short of wood and pretty much anything else the rest of the world took for granted. The temple priestesses were separate, focused on the tending of the goddess rather than fields or flocks, though maintained a garden and kept bees. They all knew they were unique; a moving island was indeed fantastic as occasional visitors from Thera reminded them with gifts of cured leather, woven cloth, bronze tools or other such wonders. Without thought they gave in return an experience of the extraordinary and miraculous right here on earth.

Spiti’s sole dwelling was a round thatched roofed hut twenty six cubits³ across, with straw and mud clay walls. There wasn’t much space for everyone sleeping, eating and living but a lot of time was spent outside. By the only door was a clearing of smooth, hard earth where two old women were currently sitting. Both had a young child, four years old perhaps, on their laps; one a boy and the other a girl. The former threw himself around trying to fall off, laughing when he was caught at the last minute, the latter sat placidly watching. The other side of the clearing was a storehouse, and an oven and drying house with a round, clay wood fired oven. These simple structures along with a blackened firepit were all there was to the village. The firepit was lit more than the temperamental oven but not now; it was high summer and the heat was stifling. A second group of people lay nearby in the shade of the storehouse, three girls and a boy all around ten years old, two women perhaps three times their age and one in between. They had simple clothing in the village but all were naked and their darkened skins splotched with dust. Combs too were made from bone or wood but surely none had seen use recently as their hair was untidy and rumpled.

Who’s going to fetch some water? asked one of the older ones apathetically. The other elder replied, Daphana. She was lying on her back with her arm across her face and didn’t move as she spoke. One of the youngsters turned her head, Not now mama she complained, it’s too hot. Why are summers always so hot?

There was no answer. Daphana hazarded a guess, Is Brizo in her heat?

It’ll be ok once you’re in the trees, continued her mother, and you could cool off in the water. She’d learned that one question led to another and sometimes it was best just to ignore them. A small tree lined pool gathered in the rocks downhill fed by a spring, which then flowed down to the beach forming the only watercourse of any note on the island. At this time of year it would be mostly dry, though thankfully the spring had never entirely disappeared as it was their only fresh water supply. No one bothered to remind her the pool would barely bathe a sparrow. Nothing much moved across the entire island, the land had followed the water and sunk to await cooler weather. Even the flies were lazy, circling slowly and waiting until the last minute to escape the occasional flick of a hand. The grass and shrub beyond the village was brown, the cicadas somehow managing to keep an intermittent rhythm.

How much left in the urns Anthea? one of the older women asked, scratching her leg.

Not a lot, Daphana’s mother Anthea replied, and it doesn’t smell good.

The youngest woman moaned, I’m going to die. Go and fetch some, Daphana. She prodded the girl with her toe. Daphana moved her leg, stop it Chloe. The prodding didn’t stop until Daphana sat up and said, goddess! I’ll go, but I’m not doing anything else today.

Deal, agreed her mother quickly.

Daphana stood, give me a hand, Eu? she asked. Her friend looked up. Ok, she said obediently, one eye on Daphana and the other floating off to the side. Daphana went to the stores and brought out a roughly made clay urn. Pour it out for the birds, said Euterpe. Daphana tipped it into the middle of the firepit. Something’s laid eggs in it, she said, bending over to look.

You girls need to remember to put the lid on, mumbled Anthea then added, Euterpe. Euterpe, or Eu for short, took a sudden interest in examining the tipped water too though plainly didn’t know what she was looking at. Daphana’s interest was genuine but short lived, she walked off with Euterpe dawdling behind to watch the blue tits flying from the roundhouse roof to feed.

Once clear of the village they could see the sea down to the right, the sun lording it over the bright blue sky and glittering on the water into the sea haze. They threaded their way through scrub and across rock towards the spring hidden in the trees ahead. The lid doesn’t fit properly anyway, said Euterpe, remembering the tiny eggs. She put the urn down, take a turn, would you Daph? She fluffed up her hair and raised a hand to her eyes against the sun, now shining into their faces. Euterpe had a funny right eye that wouldn’t focus properly, and was unusually sensitive to light. Daphana picked up the pot and awkwardly cradled it as she walked on. The sun slowed it’s sideways movement to blind them a little longer. It wasn’t far across the exposed rock but felt long enough before the welcome relief of the shade. They scrambled down the bank to the water trickling from the rock into a shallow puddle. Daphana put the urn to rinse and fill. They ignored the rock carvings around them and jumped to drink and splash themselves with cool, clear water. That’s better, said Daphana and rocked the urn to see if it was at all full. Euterpe lay down on her back and made shouty noises, enjoying the faint dampened echo. Shut up Euterpe and listen, said Daphana. I told Zosima about my dream. She said it was fantastic, and that I would become a priestess in the temple.

Wow, said Euterpe, I guess. I want you to stay with me though. Tell me again about the dream?

Well, said Daphana, it was after the race we ran up Gamila hill, do you remember? She took Euterpe’s silence for assent. I was running up again to a big mound of rocks even steeper than the one in the temple. It had a big wooden door, Zosima stood to one side and someone else on the other side, both dressed in the white. They were staring at me and I wasn’t sure what to do, it seemed like ages before I went up to the door and saw a strange looking carved shape on it.

What shape? asked Euterpe.

Don’t know, kind of like an eye with rays coming out of it. Anyway, I opened the door and went in.

What happened? asked Euterpe.

It was really dark so I just stood there. I thought I heard some music but nothing happened, then well the dream ended but it did feel special and magical. Her voice rose as she looked at her friend for agreement.

With the departure of the girls the siesta had lapsed into silence. Daphana’s mother was lying back, mouth open and panting until she suddenly sat up, coughed and spat. Bloody flies! she swore and clicked her tongue gingerly around her dry mouth. I’ve got a job for you too Chloe, she said. Go find Hanna, see if there’s any milk from the goats.

Chloe groaned softly, She could be anywhere.

"That’s the way of it, but take Iakja with you. One of you can mind them for a bit, Hanna