That night, Cyd and Atalanta talked for hours.
Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the sea breeze under a silver moon. Or maybe—just maybe—they were finally letting their guards down.
They didn't do anything, okay? No dramatic moonlit embraces, no steamy moments under the stars. Just… talked. But that didn't stop the other so-called "heroes" from giving them those looks the next morning, especially since they'd both returned to the ship at the same time, yawning and smiling like they'd shared some grand secret.
"Nice," Heracles muttered, clapping Cyd on the back. "Rooting for you, man."
Please don't root for me.
Cyd buried his face in his hands.
Atalanta rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't fall out of her skull. "Idiots," she muttered, tossing her hair and ignoring the whispers.
Several days later, the Argo reached yet another island. Which normally meant a quick pit stop: resupply, maybe chase off a monster or two, then back to sea.
But this time?
"I think we should stay a little longer," Jason declared with a lazy grin, practically melting under the adoring gazes of a dozen local women. He gave Heracles a thumbs-up and let himself be swept away into the city.
The rest of the so-called heroes followed, each flanked by women like they were off-brand demigod royalty.
Cyd stayed behind on the ship, taking a slow bite of an apple. He held out another one to Heracles, who accepted it with a sigh, and offered one to Atalanta.
"Jason's out of his mind," Heracles muttered, shooing off yet another woman trying to cling to his arm.
The moment the local women realized the biggest guy wasn't interested, their attention locked onto Cyd—pale skin, silver hair, strange eyes. Exotic. Dangerous.
Atalanta didn't say anything. She just took a bite of her apple and glared at them like she was about to shoot the fruit pit straight into someone's eye.
"You should come into town with us, hero," one of the women purred, tugging at Cyd's arm, her dress slipping lower as she leaned in. The others joined her, brushing against him.
Then the queen showed up.
"I'm the ruler of this island," she whispered in his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Say the word, and you'll be my king. I've never had a man before… you'll be gentle, won't you?"
Crunch.
Atalanta bit down on her apple so hard it cracked like thunder.
Cyd raised his hands like he was under arrest. "Sorry, not a hero. I'm just a background guy. A sidekick, really."
The queen blinked. "That's okay. You could still be—"
"Y'know, I just don't think handing over the island's future to a guy you met five minutes ago is a great move." Cyd ducked out of her grip with a sheepish smile.
The queen narrowed her eyes, but didn't press it. "I'll be waiting," she said before turning and disappearing into the city.
Cyd exhaled. "My answer's still no, for the record."
"Apple," Atalanta said, holding out her hand without looking at him.
"Right." Cyd pulled one from his pack and handed it over. "So… what now?"
"We wait," Heracles said, standing in front of the Argo like a giant, scowling bodyguard.
"Fine by me," Cyd said, planting his apple core in the soil like a tree might magically sprout right there.
"I'm going hunting," Atalanta said, mimicking him with her own apple core before slinging her bow over her shoulder.
"Wait, I was gonna say I like—"
"Survival of the fittest," she cut in. "I hunt for me. If you want food, hunt for yourself."
Cyd turned to Heracles. "You want anything?"
"Up to you," Heracles said with a tired shrug. "But thanks."
"No worries. You've got the harder job—babysitting this ship."
Cyd jogged after Atalanta into the trees, leaving Heracles to glare toward the city gates, where music and laughter filtered out through the breeze.
"Don't forget why you set sail in the first place, Jason," Heracles muttered to himself.
Atalanta moved like a panther—graceful, precise, and deadly.
She leapt from branch to branch, eyes scanning the forest floor for signs of prey. This was her way: speed first, questions later. The moment her eyes locked on something, it was already too late.
But the problem wasn't the forest.
It was the guy clumsily trying to keep up behind her.
"Stop following me!" she snapped, spinning around mid-jump to glare at Cyd. "I told you I'm not sharing."
"I know, I know!" Cyd waved his hands, trying to keep a low profile behind a tree. "I just thought… maybe you were going slow on purpose. Y'know, knife-sharp mouth, tofu-heart and all that?"
The temperature dropped ten degrees. Atalanta's eyes narrowed to slits.
Cyd realized—Oh no. That wasn't flattering. That was an insult.
"You think I held back? For you?"
"I didn't mean it like that!" Cyd stammered, edging farther behind the tree.
She inhaled slowly, fury controlled but lethal. "One way to settle this. Cyd."
"Wait—what?"
"We race," she said. "If you win… I'll let you do whatever you want with me."
Cyd choked. "…Define 'whatever'?"
"If I win," Atalanta said, drawing an arrow and notching it with mechanical calm, "I kill you."
"I… think I'll pass."
"Too late. You're already the prey."
"Look, I was just being dumb, okay? Totally my bad, I nearly died just catching up to you!"
She pulled the string tighter. "Race me or run. Either way—I'm hunting you."
Cyd groaned and peeked out from behind the tree. "Fine, fine! We race. Just… what are the rules?"
"Speed," Atalanta said through clenched teeth. "Start to the clearing. First one there wins."
Cyd glanced up. The forest canopy was thick, but sunlight filtered through in scattered beams. Good. He could feel warmth radiating from the white jade cuff on his wrist—Chiron's last gift. He wouldn't have stood a chance in combat.
But in a footrace? Under sunlight?
He had a shot.
"Nice day for a miracle," he muttered.
Atalanta narrowed her eyes. "Hope you live to see tomorrow."
Five minutes later.
They hit the clearing at the same time.
Cyd collapsed, gasping for air and blinking at the sky. "…A tie," he said with a lazy grin. "Perfect."
Atalanta stood beside him, her breath only slightly uneven, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Cyd shielded his eyes with a hand and looked up at the sun overhead. "Let's hope tomorrow's sky is just as clear."
BTW THIS IS NOT MY STORY I'M TRANSLATING IT