I regained my feet and found myself again face to face with Iolaus. “Thank you, sir,” I said. “I got separated from my master in the woods. What’s happening? Do we have the boar?” He grimaced. “That depends on if you ask the boar or the hunters. He’s got his back to the wall and there’s no way he can fight his way through so many of us. He’s got no choice but to surrender.” Another heartrending howl tore through the air. A hound as big as me went flying up and over the hunters’ heads, its body streaked with red. The cornered boar had tossed the poor creature as easily as if it were a wisp of straw. “Too bad he disagrees.” “Where’s Atalanta?” I cried, clutching Iolaus’s arm. The blood underfoot, the unlucky dog’s fate, the uproar from the ravine all suddenly combined to strike my heart with terror. But I wasn’t afraid for my own life. I feared for my friend. Without thinking, I grabbed Iolaus’s shoulders and sprang up, desperate to see over the heads of the hunters in front of me.
