Pherenike - Chapter 141

[I don’t want a story. I just want to be with you. If you go, Atalanta, I’ll go too. I want to play with you. I don’t want to stay here. I want to be aboveground.]

[You regretted eating only the figs first, didn’t you?]

[Yeah.]

[The tastiest things are meant to be saved for last, Leuce.]

[What do you mean?]

[Sometimes, it’s the same for things you want to do most.]

As Atalanta’s footsteps faded away, Leuce’s small steps followed her from below—until they stopped. Atalanta realized it wasn’t because the girl had listened, but because she’d run up against a wall.

[If you keep your promise to your mother, and wait until you’ve turned the hourglass nine more times before coming out, you’ll be much happier.]

The lioness crept away from the sanctuary, slipping beneath the row of shrubs like a shadow. She’d deliberately left with a time gap, so no one would be able to follow her trail.

[Okay…]

After a long, thoughtful silence, the girl finally whispered a reply. Atalanta slipped out beneath the shrubs and onto another path, when a tiny voice called her back:

[Atalanta.]

[Yes?]

[Did my mother really do something bad to the people?]

[…]

[Fire is the scariest thing in the world. That’s what Ino said. I saw the ritual at the Antehe river. If people go into fire, it’s just like the lamb that was offered on the altar. A burned lamb looks so awful. So Ino always told me never to go near fire… But earlier, Pyra said that my mother set people’s homes on fire…]

[That’s nonsense. Well—Ino is absolutely right, you should never go near fire. But that woman’s words were nothing but rubbish.]

Atalanta wrinkled her nose. She’d learned a few human curse words from Pherenike, but she was a nobler animal than her master, so her cursing always stayed internal.

[Pyra said my mother gave the order.]

[She’s lying. Pherenike would never give such an order.]

[But lying is what bad people do, right?]

[That’s true, yes.]

[But Pyra is nice… I was so sad when she stopped coming to see me. She always let me do whatever I wanted when she visited the palace. She even let me skip lessons when Ino wasn’t looking. Pyra is kind. When I was with her, I never had to do anything I didn’t like.]

[I can see why you’d think that.]

[She always played with me. But could she really lie? Does that mean she’s a bad person?]

[Leuce, someone who only ever gives you sweet things is often someone who doesn’t truly care for you.]

[…]

[You should always be most careful around people who only ever let you have what you want.]

The child said nothing. The lioness glanced back at the sanctuary, now far behind her. The sun was already dipping toward the horizon, casting the sanctuary in a red glow. Smoke drifted above the palace walls in the distance.

[Leuce, do you know the southernmost country in the world?]

[Arabia.]

[Have you ever heard stories about the winged snakes that live there?]

[Snakes with wings? That’s impossible.]

[In spring, those snakes fly all the way to Aigyptos*.]

As the lioness moved further from the sanctuary, she kept talking. The princess, distracted by the thought of marvelous creatures, soon forgot her earlier worries.

[What do those snakes look like?]

[They’re a bit like water snakes, but with bat-like wings.]

[Wow… Leuce has never even seen a water snake!]

[Then someday, let’s go see them together. You, me, and your mother.]

[I’ve never seen a bat, either!]

[Then let’s go see some bats]

[Ino says bats look terrible and frightening.]

[But you have a lion. What could possibly scare you?]

[That’s true!]

Before she met Pherenike, everything in Atalanta’s world was just a shape—a nameless form. Lions recognized other creatures by their shape, their scent, their instincts. That was enough beauty for her.

But from the day she became Pherenike’s cub, every new thing in her world was given a name. The first was ‘Atalanta’, bestowed by Deucalion but truly given meaning by her master.

Since then, they’d given names to everything they saw, spoke about, or remembered together. They created a language where a lion was a lion, and a snake was a snake.

The lioness now roamed a much smaller land than the plains of Karhama, but in her mind, she traveled an even vast world. She learned to name everything, even things lost and gone. She gave names to her dead sisters and daughters, just as great warriors’ graves bear their names.

The only one who could fully understand Atalanta’s vast world was Pherenike. Of course, Deucalion was also a true companion of the lion’s two lives. He could read his wife’s lion with his eyes, just as he read the language of his own wolf-dogs.

But no one—not where, nor what, nor who—could ever truly share every story. Deucalion understood her differently, but their language could never quite be the same.

Aigyptos: Αἴγυπτος, the ancient Greek name for Egypt.