Author’s Note: I had the outline for this story long before the Xena episode “Dangerous Prey” aired. I wish to fervently deny any accusations that I copied this idea from Xena. I stole it from the original source, “The Most Dangerous Game”. And as always, not profiting and I mean no copyright violations with the use of these characters.
Iolaus absently trailed his fingers through the cool water of the stream as he watched the quick silver flashes of the tiny fish that were darting by in a frantic dance. He studied the ripples that his movements caused, a slight disturbance of the crystal purity of the water that reflected the sky and the trees surrounding it. Leaning back against a tree stump, the hunter heaved a heavy sigh and tried to figure out what to do with himself.
A few months ago he had returned home after a day spent helping one of the villagers of Acheron gather in his crop of grain. Iolaus entered the house to find his wife looking even more beautiful that usual, and laying out a feast of all his favorite dishes on the table. Finally, when the meal was over, Elissa admitted that she did have an ulterior motive.
“I was trying to butter you up,” the healer confessed. “I want something, but I don’t know how you’re going to take it.”
“What is it?” Iolaus asked, unable to think of anything that she could ever want that he would be disagreeable to.
“I want to go to Athens,” Elissa told him, pretending to busy herself clearing the table. “There’s a great healer coming from Egypt, and he’s going to hold a symposium there.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” the hunter said, knowing that there must be more to it than that.
“Well, this symposium runs a bit longer than most do.”
“How long?”
“Two months,” she admitted reluctantly.
“Two months?” the hunter repeated in disbelief.
“Iolaus, please.” The healer sat across from him and took his hand. “Just hear me out. This is a wonderful opportunity, and I really want to go.”
“But Elissa,” he argued. “You are a great healer. The best I’ve ever seen. Why do you need to go to this thing, especially for two months?”
“This man that’s coming has been doing amazing things in Egypt,” she explained. “He has techniques that are unheard of in Greece. I could learn so much from him.”
At first, the hunter didn’t have to say no. The cost of attending the symposium was high, and they simply didn’t have enough dinars to pay for it. Iolaus knew that Elissa was disappointed, but secretly he was relieved that she couldn’t go. He didn’t have anything against her learning, but two months in Athens was a long time.
But then, the good people of Acheron somehow got wind of their predicament and took up a collection, raising enough dinars to send Elissa to the symposium. They did it for themselves, so that their town healer would become even more skilled, but mostly they did it for her. She had been caring for them for many years, carrying on the traditions set by her father. Never taking more than a dinar or two from those that could afford it, and working for free for those that couldn’t. The villagers loved Elissa, with her gentle touch and kind heart, and they had also embraced the man she married as one of their own. Handsome Iolaus, friend to Hercules, quick to smile, always willing to help, and hero of all Greece. It seemed like the least they could do.
Of course, their gesture left the hunter wishing that they had minded their own business. But when he saw how happy the people were to be able to do this for Elissa, not to mention how touched and overjoyed she had been, he knew that he could not refuse her. Iolaus knew her mind as well as he knew his own, and he realized that attending this symposium meant a great deal to her. He could never deny her what she wished for, especially since she hardly ever asked him for anything. Although he couldn’t give her everything he knew she deserved, he could stand back, keep his mouth shut, and support her on this. So, a week before the symposium began, they had left for Athens.
They chose to leave the horses in Acheron, in the care of one of the local boys. It would be one more hassle to find somewhere to stable them in Athens, so they decided to walk. All in all, it was a pleasant journey. Spring was fast upon them, and wildflowers filled the air with their heavy perfume. Iolaus and Elissa traveled leisurely, just enjoying being together. They spent a lot of time talking and laughing, and at night they slept together under the stars. But once they reached the outskirts of Athens, Iolaus became tense. He’d never liked the city, finding it far too confining. The people were pretentious, and tended to look down on outsiders. While the architecture and art of the city was breathtaking, the hunter hated the bustle and the clutter that seemed to fence him in. And he was bored out of his mind, having nothing useful to do while Elissa was busy at the symposium or studying the parchments that she had written notes on. So, after three weeks in Athens, Iolaus left.
Elissa couldn’t help her tears, hating for him to go and missing him before he had even departed. But she did not beg him to stay. As well as he knew her, she also knew him. The healer knew that her husband was feeling restless and unhappy, and that he couldn’t take the cold, unfeeling city any more. So she watched him strap his sword around his waist and gather his few belongings together in his pack, understanding his need to leave.
“Five weeks isn’t very long,” she said as he took her in his arms. “The time will fly by.”
“I’ll be back in four,” he promised, holding her tightly and inhaling the familiar fragrance of her auburn hair.
It was hard to let go, but eventually they did. Elissa remained in the doorway of the house they had rented, waving goodbye to her husband long after the crowds had swallowed him up. Her heart was aching, but she returned to the scrolls she had carefully been keeping and picked up the first one, determined to learn everything she could so that she could make Iolaus proud.
The hunter felt a wave of relief wash over him as he left the confines of the city and entered the calm depths of the forest. He just wasn’t cut out for city life, much preferring the quiet towns where people looked out for each other and welcomed strangers, instead of treating them with outright suspicion and hostility. Even when he was younger and unattached, he had never liked Athens. It was a city for rich landowners and statesmen, lacking the charm of Corinth or the excitement of Sparta. Athens was like one of it’s many marble statues: cold, hard, beautiful, but oblivious to plights of those around it.
But the initial relief Iolaus felt at fleeing the city soon turned to restless depression. He missed Elissa terribly, and didn’t know how to pass the time on his own. Not wanting to return home to Acheron, he was at a loss over where to go. He wasn’t exactly sure where Hercules was, and there was nothing else for him to do. So, he sat beside a quiet stream, scaring the fish as he tried to think of something. Finally, he rose, deciding to go to Hellespont. Last he’d heard, Hercules was there. The hunter doubted that his friend would still be there by the time he arrived, but at least it would give him a destination and there was always the chance that he’d run into the demigod somewhere along the way.
Hercules wasn’t in Hellespont, but Iolaus stayed for a few days anyway, reliving adventures with some old friends and charming all the pretty girls at the inn. When it was time to move on, he headed east, as that was the direction his partner had gone weeks before. The hunter didn’t really have much hope that he’d catch up with Hercules, but it was as good a direction as any. He set off in better spirits, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face and the peace of the morning, a peace which soon was shattered. Iolaus came upon a group of three men attacking a lone traveler and wasted no time in involving himself in the situation. He beat the three bandits easily, a little too easily according to a small voice in the back of his mind. But he shrugged the feeling off and crouched beside the victim, who was lying sprawled on the ground.
“Are you all right?” Iolaus asked him, offering him a hand up.
“I’m fine,” the man replied. He took the hunter’s hand, and as he got to his feet the man pulled out a knife and stabbed Iolaus.
Iolaus groaned loudly as he regained consciousness. He struggled to sit up, finding that his head felt heavy and everything looked blurry. Shaking his head vigorously helped to clear it a little, enough to make out that he was outside, alone, and chained to a rock by his left arm. Nothing was familiar about his surroundings, which were rather barren. He was missing his sword, his knife, his gauntlets, his vest and his talisman, but there was an unfamiliar water skin by his side. Picking it up, he sniffed it experimentally but could only detect water. Iolaus was still reluctant to drink it, but the day was growing warm and his throat was dry. He finally reasoned that whoever had chained him wanted to keep him alive, at least for the time being, so he decided to take his chances.
The cool water helped to clear his thoughts even more, and the hunter was starting to realize that he had been drugged. His last memory was of the ambush on the road and the man stabbing him. Examining his side, he found a small nick there. The blade obviously was not meant to injure him, but was most likely coated with some sort of potion to knock him out. They needed him unconscious to bring him here, but why? The only thing he could do was sit and wait for the answer. Patience had never been one of his defining characteristics, but this time he had little choice. He made himself as comfortable as he could and drifted back to sleep for a short while, which helped to pass the time until he detected a gang of riders approaching.
Four men rode up to the spot where he was chained, and any hope Iolaus had of them coming to his rescue was quickly extinguished as they neared. They were the men that he had fought on the road. One man was huge, as big as Hercules, but did not look terribly bright. Another one was a big guy as well, with a bushy black beard. The third man was about the same size as the hunter, and he had a long, jagged scar down the right side of his face. Lastly, Iolaus’ eyes moved to take in the fourth man, who was the one that had stabbed him. He was younger, and good looking, with long blond hair and soft brown eyes. Obviously the leader, he swung down from his horse with a light grace and approached the hunter with a friendly smile.
“How are you feeling, Iolaus?” he asked politely. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. We had to give you a lot of the sleeping drug to get you here. More than a man of your size should have, but you just wouldn’t stay under.”
“Well now that I’m here,” Iolaus replied, just as calmly. “What do you want from me?”
“We’re going to play a little game,” he announced. The other three men, still on horseback, winked and nudged each other.
“What kind of game?” The hunter had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be one in which he was a willing participant.
“You see, Iolaus, my friends and I like to hunt. Surely you can appreciate that. But, we soon got bored with the local game of Greece. We even took to importing animals from Africa, but even that quickly ceased to be a challenge. So one day we brought a Spartan soldier up here and let him go. It took us two days to catch him, and he put up quite a fight. Now that was exciting. It was a CHALLENGE. There’s no sport in hunting animals that don’t have common sense. They can’t think, they can’t reason, they can’t outsmart the hunter. But people, well that’s another story....”
“You’re insane,” Iolaus muttered, as the meaning of the man’s words began to sink in.
“It’s no more insane than gladiators fighting beasts, or each other, in the arena for the amusements of kings,” the stranger said casually.
“Trust me,” the hunter snorted. “I’ve been there. There’s no honor in that, either.”
“At least with our little game we give our prey a chance. We are nothing, if not sportsmanlike.” The man smiled benevolently, and it made Iolaus sick. “We’re going to release you now and give you a head start. When the sun is directly overhead, we’re coming after you. I suggest that you be ready.”
“Why are we even wasting time with this little guy,” the dopey looking man on the horse whined. “I thought you were going to get Hercules.” He didn’t even notice the ferocious glare Iolaus shot him.
“A suggestion, my friends. Do not be quick to underestimate our guest. If the stories are true, then he will undoubtedly give us quite an adventure. And when we’re finished with him, then we can go after Hercules.”
The man raised his sword and brought it down hard against the boulder next to the hunter’s head, severing the chain that was binding him. Before Iolaus could react, he was once more astride his horse, leading the others away.
“How do I get myself into these things?” Iolaus grumbled under his breath. Instead of running, he forced himself to sit down and calmly think things through. He was missing his weapons, which would be a problem, but all in all he was not totally defenseless. At least they left him his pants and boots, for which he was grudgingly grateful. Most of all, he missed his talisman. True, it was not a charm and had no magical powers, but he had worn it for so long that it had become a part of him. Without its familiar weight hanging around his neck, he couldn’t help having a nagging feeling that something was missing. It distinctly bothered him, but he would have to put it out of his mind for now.
Taking a long look around him, Iolaus was also a bit dismayed to realize that he didn’t know where he was. The habitat around him was all open, and so he guessed that he was in the northwestern section of Greece. That area was largely uninhabited, and for the men to play their sick hunting game, they would need a large parcel of land that was unsettled. There were some mountains in the distance to the left, and what looked like trees in the distance to the right. Standing, Iolaus decided to head for the trees.
He started off in an easy lope, wanting to cover ground but not wishing to immediately exhaust himself. At his current pace, he would be able to run steadily for several miles. He’d taken the water skin that they’d left him, even though it was almost empty. Iolaus was also saddled with the manacle that was still around his arm and the length of chain the trailed behind him. It was a hindrance, but one that he would have to bear until he could find some way of removing it.
As he ran, Iolaus tried to figure out the strategy of these men. They had been very adamant in calling this a “game.” He was willing to bet that they had a code that they followed. The man had been telling the truth when he said that they would give him until the sun was overhead. And Iolaus was also fairly sure that they wouldn’t ambush him. This was a challenge, a fight, and they would keep it sportsmanlike. A rather twisted form of sportsmanship, to be true, but sportsmanlike all the same. He reasoned that they would probably come after him one by one, and he decided to take the man’s advice. He’d have to be ready.
The sun was nearing its overhead position. Iolaus knew that on horseback the men could catch up with him very quickly. His only hope was to get to the safety of the trees, where he’d be able to hide and make a defensive stance. But they were still a long way off. He kept sprinting at his steady pace, but the sun was hot and he was getting thirsty. If he wanted to keep going, he would have to find water soon.
Iolaus was still a good bit from the trees when he heard the sound of hoofbeats behind him. Looking back, he saw that it was the man with the beard bearing down hard on him. He kept running, left with little other option. An arrow whizzed past his ear to strike the ground in front of him. Moments later, another one landed at his heels. And so the hunter had become the hunted.
He knew that Bushy Beard was toying with him, teasing him with the arrows that he was misfiring on purpose. But he also knew that the game wouldn’t last for long, and soon one of the arrows was going to hit its mark. Dodging and weaving as he ran, trying to make himself a harder target to hit, Iolaus desperately tried to think. His only chance was to get the man off his horse. Iolaus pretended to stumble, stopping a fall to the ground with his hands before he jumped up and continued running. Meanwhile, Bushy Beard had the opportunity to advance even more and was right behind him, laughing sadistically as he threaded another arrow into his crossbow. He didn’t get the chance to fire it, as Iolaus had suddenly turned around and fired off a rock he had grabbed from the ground, hitting Bushy Beard right between the eyes and knocking him off his horse. The horse hadn’t seemed to realize it was riderless and had kept going, and as it passed by Iolaus he grabbed the reigns and swung himself up into the saddle.
Unfortunately, Bushy Beard had recovered quickly from the fall and aimed the crossbow. Fortunately, he was a bit disoriented, and instead of hitting Iolaus in the heart, the arrow pierced his shoulder. Momentarily blinded by pain, Iolaus could do nothing but slump against the horse’s neck and try to hold on. Bushy Beard let loose a loud, shrill whistle, and the horse obediently made a wide circle and galloped back to its master. Coming to his senses, Iolaus hooked his uninjured right arm around the horse’s neck and slid from the saddle. He let the bulk of the horse’s body shield him, leaving only an arm and a leg visible from the side of the horse where Bushy Beard was standing. Undaunted, the man aimed his crossbow and fired, striking his horse in the neck. The animal shrieked and bucked before it collapsed in a writhing heap, kicking up a cloud of dust. Bushy Beard ran up to the dying horse, catching a glimpse of Iolaus’ still form beside it. Cautiously he crept closer and poked his prey with the tip of his crossbow.
Instantly, Bushy Beard felt his legs get swept out from under him as the crossbow was jerked from his hands. Iolaus had to admit, the man had quick reflexes. He kicked up suddenly, his boot catching the crossbow and sending it skittering across the ground. But Iolaus was quicker. He grabbed Bushy Beard’s leg and wrenched it hard, flipping the man over in the process. Leaping on his back, driving his face into the dirt, Iolaus managed to get the length of chain from his manacle around the man’s neck. Digging his heels in and pulling hard, Iolaus choked Bushy Beard until his thrashing finally stilled. Hesitantly, he eased his grip, tensed for any signs of a remaining struggle. But his pursuer was unconscious, taking slow, shallow breaths.
Iolaus sat for a few minutes, trying to get a grip on the dizziness buzzing in his head. The arrow was deeply imbedded in the back of his shoulder, and he was afraid to pull it out, fearing he’d cause more damage and wouldn’t be able to stop the bleeding. Finally, he decided all he could do was to break the shaft of the arrow off and bandage the wound as best he could. In the saddlebag that was strapped to the fallen horse, he found a blanket that he was able to rip up. He tied a strip tightly around the bit of wood that was still sticking out of him and used another strip to serve as a sling, keeping his arm immobilized against his chest.
He also found a knife in Bushy Beard’s belt and used it to pop open the manacle that was still clamped around his wrist. Tucking the knife into his own belt, Iolaus gathered up what was left of the blanket and Bushy Beard’s water skin and began moving once more toward the shelter of the trees. Round one had left him victorious, but also injured, which was going to cause a problem in the remaining rounds.
By the time Iolaus reached the edge of the trees, he was feeling a bit dizzy and he was also out of water. The forest was not the dense canopy he had hoped for, but at least the sparse tree cover provided some shade from the sun and got him out of the open enough so that he felt less like a sitting duck. Iolaus needed to rest, he needed to find water and he needed to take care of his shoulder wound. But what he got was round two.
Iolaus heard the man coming long before he saw him, and he was not surprised to see it was the big, dumb looking guy crashing through the underbrush. He knew that there would be no rest for him until he’d dealt with the oaf, so with a sigh Iolaus paused in the shade of a tree and waited for his pursuer to catch up with him. Dopey came barreling through the underbrush, almost bypassing his still target as he wasn’t expecting him to be standing around in the open.
“What are you doing there?” Dopey sputtered, finally catching sight of his quarry. “Aren’t you gonna run?”
“I think I’m about run out for the day,” Iolaus told him calmly.
“Suit yourself,” the man said with a shrug. “You’ll just be that much easier to kill. I don’t know why we had to go with a puny guy like you, anyway. If it was up to me, we’d have Hercules out here.”
Iolaus’ temper flared at his words. It was bad enough that these people were trying to kill him, and threatening Hercules, but to call him “puny” and dismiss him as if he were some scrawny weakling, well, that was just unforgivable. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he contemplated his options. Their leader had warned them all not to underestimate him, but Iolaus seriously doubted that this dimwit even knew what that word meant.
“Tell you what,” he bargained. “Why don’t you put that sword down and I’ll show you what a puny man like me can do.”
“You hafta be kidding,” Dopey chortled, taking a long look at his prey. Iolaus was half his size, and was wounded on top of it. “I’d crush you like a bug.”
“Well, come on then,” Iolaus taunted. “Put down that sword and let’s see you do it.” The man hesitated. “What’s wrong? Big bad guy like you afraid of little old me?”
That did it. Dopey tossed his sword behind him and began to advance. Iolaus tensed, his tired muscles ready for the attack. All things being equal, he probably could have handled the guy without too much of a problem. But things weren’t equal. Iolaus was fatigued, and his injured shoulder was going to be a problem. So clearly, if he was to win this battle, he would have to think fast and not rely on strength.
Dopey lunged at him, and Iolaus easily ducked out of the way, getting in a shot with his good arm as the man sailed past him. Immediately, the oaf was up and after him again, and again, Iolaus sidestepped him quickly. This routine went on for a few moments, but Dopey began to wise up. Instead of wildly attacking, he was beginning to make slow, deliberate advances. Iolaus was still repelling him, but it was getting increasingly harder for him to fend him off. Suddenly, Iolaus launched an attack of his own, taking Dopey completely by surprise and catching him hard in the chest with a forceful kick. The oaf staggered backwards, and Iolaus attacked again, but this time Dopey managed to grab onto him. They both fell to the ground, wrestling briefly before Iolaus became trapped under the larger man’s bulk. He winced as Dopey pinned his arms to the ground, stretching his shoulder wound and causing it to throb mercilessly.
“You’re not bad,” the man panted. “For a little guy.”
“That’s it,” Iolaus growled. He reared his head up sharply, battering his skull into the big guy’s face. Dopey cried out and reached a hand up, feeling the blood streaming from his nose. Suddenly finding his arm free, Iolaus jabbed two fingers into the man’s neck. The oaf collapsed instantly, and Iolaus idly thought he would suffocate before he managed to squirm out from under the man’s bulk. Finally, he wriggled free and hastily pulled some thick vines down from the nearest tree. He tied Dopey’s hands and feet, trussing him up tightly, before he once again repeated the two fingered action. The oaf gasped for breath, gulping air noisily as Iolaus took his water skin.
“Wherever you are, thank you, Xena,” he whispered to the sky. The great warrior princess had never shown anyone before how to copy her trick, but not even the thorny Xena could resist Iolaus when he turned the charm on full force. Maybe she had felt like she owed him at least that much. He had never used it on anyone before, but this time it had definitely come in handy. Iolaus checked the bindings on the man one more time to be sure they were secure, then turned and walked briskly away, picking up the dropped sword before he disappeared into the trees. He took care to cover his tracks, just in case Dopey did manage to escape somehow. Iolaus knew that he probably should have killed him, because in leaving him alive it was likely that he’d have to face the man again later on. But he just couldn’t do it. He hated to take a life, and never did unless there was no other way around it. True, in this game it was either them or him, but he couldn’t bring himself to descend to their level of savagery. He could only hope that he wouldn’t pay for his generosity later.
When he felt secure that he had put enough distance between himself and the spot where he had left the big oaf, Iolaus began to scout out his surroundings. Evening was fast approaching, and he needed to find a place to shelter for the night. Luck was not with the hunter, as there were no caves, no dens, not even any fallen logs to be had. Deciding that he needed to utilize the remaining daylight and didn’t have time to keep walking in hopes of finding something more suitable, Iolaus chose to make due with what he had. A small stand of closely packed evergreen trees would have to suffice. It didn’t offer much in the way of security, but at least the tight canopy would help keep out the wind and weather and the thick carpet of pine needles would make a much more comfortable bed than a cave floor.
He was almost out of water and there were no ponds, streams, or springs around that he could see, but the crafty hunter knew how to get what he needed. The trees surrounding his little pine forest were covered in grape vines. Iolaus went to the first one and sliced through the vine, as far up as he could reach. Then he swiped his knife through the bottom of the vine, severing a long section from the climbing plant. He flipped the vine over, holding it upside down over the mouth of his water skin. After a moment, a small trickle of water began to flow out of the vine. It took many vines, but Iolaus patiently kept at it until he had filled his water skin to the brim.
Kicking around the leaf litter, the hunter eventually found a large piece of bark that was curved up on the ends. He lined the wood with thick, glossy leaves, creating a crude sort of bowl that would hold a little water. After a bit more searching, Iolaus found a few herbs and dropped them into his “bowl” after crushing them between his fingers. He cut down a few more vines, added the water to the herbs. Then he undid the strips of cloth from his shoulder, thoroughly checking the wound for the first time since it had happened. The head of the arrow was still deep within his shoulder. It was painful, but it hadn’t appeared to have done any major damage and it hadn’t bled a lot, for which he was thankful. Iolaus ripped a small piece of cloth from the remains of the blanket that he had taken from Bushy Beard. Dipping it into the herb water, he carefully cleaned the wound as best he could, wincing heavily as he dabbed the cloth over the injury. Satisfied that he had done all that he could for it, the hunter tore up the rest of the blanket and rewrapped the wound tightly.
His stomach growled, but Iolaus found he lacked the energy to set snares and wait for any small game to happen across them. He also didn’t want to risk lighting a fire to cook with. The hunter didn’t think that the men would keep after him during the night, but there was no sense in advertising his location to them with the smoke from a fire. So, he had to content himself with making a meal out of the handful of berries that was able to scrounge up.
The light was almost gone as Iolaus crawled under his blanket of trees and curled up in a mound of pine needles that he’d scraped together. As he lay quietly, listening as the night insects began to come alive, his thoughts went to Elissa. He couldn’t help wishing that he had never left her. It was so hard to be away from her anyway, but knowing that he could be lying next to her instead of alone in the forest with a bunch of psychos after him was almost more than he could bear. The hunter wondered what she was doing, if she was thinking of him. He pictured her looking out of the window of the little house, looking out into the streets of Athens, wondering where he was and if he was all right. The thought made him smile slightly, a smile which quickly disappeared as he began to wonder if he would ever see her again. Even if he managed to elude the men still after him, the shoulder wound was still a worry. The embedded arrow was all right where it was for now, but Iolaus knew that if he didn’t get it out soon and treat the wound properly, then he would be in real trouble.
With a heavy sigh, the hunter tried to push such morbid thoughts from his mind. The word “quit” was just not a part of his vocabulary, so he could not allow himself to give up. He would keep pushing himself. There was no other way. He refused to die out in the middle of nowhere, leaving Hercules and Elissa to always wonder what had happened to him. Iolaus refused to do that to them. He refused to leave his beautiful healer a widow.
“I love you, Elissa,” he whispered softly. “Don’t worry about me. I might be late, but I promise you I’ll be back.”
Iolaus spent a long night under the trees. He was cold and hungry and he slept fitfully, jerking awake with every sound. By the time that dawn began to light the sky, he felt more drained than before he had slept. But the hunter came out from under the trees anyway, realizing that the men would be after him and that he needed to keep moving. There was an acute ache in his shoulder, and undoing the bandages, Iolaus’ heart sank as he saw the red, angry flesh around the bit of arrow. The herbs he applied had apparently not done any good. With no other recourse, the hunter was forced to rewrap the wound, take up his water and his sword, and start walking.
All through the morning, Iolaus continued plodding on, becoming more and more aware that infection had set into the wound. He began feeling worse and worse, but would not allow himself to stop. The fact that he didn’t even know where he was heading didn’t bother him. Any direction would eventually lead him out of the wilderness and into a town where people could help him. He just had to gather his flagging strength to make it that far.
Eventually, he stumbled across a small pond. The water was a bit stagnant, but at that point Iolaus didn’t care. He drank a little, relieving the dryness in his throat, then cupped a little in his hands and splashed it over his face, the coolness helping him feel a bit better. The hunter submerged his water skin under the surface and let it fill.
If he had been at the top of his game, Iolaus would have known someone was approaching him from behind long before the man was practically on top of him. But his senses were dulled with fatigue and pain, and the hunter didn’t realize anything was amiss until he saw a flash of the man’s reflection in the surface of the pond. He just barely rolled out of the way in time, feeling the rush of the breeze as a sword slashed through the air right where his body had been only seconds before. Iolaus had instinctively reacted. and in his haste he had forgotten about his shoulder. His movements stretched the wound, making it throb mercilessly, and it took him a few moments to get his bearings enough to rise and face his attacker. It was the man with the jagged scar.
“So,” Iolaus began, slowly getting to his feet and gripping his purloined sword tightly in his hand. “This is what you call sportsmanlike? Sneaking up on a guy and stabbing him in the back?”
“And I suppose that you go up and look every stag that you hunt in the face before you kill it,” Scarface said contemptuously.
“Well, this stag fights back,” the hunter warned him. “So before you get hurt, why don’t you turn around and go back the way you came?”
“Not a chance, Blondie,” the man sneered. “I’m coming out of this with your head, and then I’m going after your pal, Hercules.”
Iolaus could only be grateful that the arrow had pierced his left shoulder. At least his right arm would be unencumbered and he would be able to use the sword with little difficulty. The physicality and the struggle of the fight would no doubt take its toll on the wound, but at least he would have full use of his sword arm. He stood, poised and ready, waiting with calm resolve until the man attacked.
The hunter was really in no condition to be fighting, but fortunately three factors were working for him. First, the adrenaline that surged through him helped to send strength to his limbs and momentarily drive away the ill feelings that were plaguing him. Secondly, Scarface was good with a sword, but Iolaus was better, and like his comrades, the man had not heeded the leader’s words about underestimating their quarry. Scarface had made a zealous, overconfident attack and was thrown off by the skill with which the hunter repelled him. He tried to regroup and change his strategy, but it was too late. Iolaus was already attacking, putting him on the defensive. And all the while their swords clashed, Scarface remained oblivious to the basic fact that was the third edge for his opponent. Where he was fighting as part of a game, Iolaus was fighting for his life. And that sort of desperation almost always helped to ensure a victory.
The battle went on for a long time, much longer than it would have if Iolaus had been at his best. But when it finally ended, Scarface was dead and the hunter was untouched by his opponent’s blade. But while he had escaped any new injuries, the fight had taken much out of the warrior. His strength was virtually sapped, and he felt as if his shaking legs weren’t going to hold him up for very long. Stubbornly, he tried to collect his things and move on, but finally he had to admit to himself that he couldn’t keep going. With a sigh of resignation, the hunter found a spot underneath a nearby tree, lowered himself to the ground, and sank into oblivion.
When Iolaus awoke a few hours later, the sun had sunk low in the sky, a cool breeze was stirring the leaves, and he was not alone. The man that had been the leader of his tormenters was passively sitting a few feet away from him. When he noticed the hunter staring at him, he rose and approached, holding out a water skin.
“Here,” he said softly. “It’s from a spring just past those trees. A lot better than that pond scum you were swilling.” Iolaus stared at him with outright suspicion. “It’s just water,” the man assured him. “Believe me, I wouldn’t go to all this trouble just to try and poison you now.”
The hunter reached out a hesitant hand and took the water. As soon as he had it, the man backed off and sat back down. Iolaus held that water skin for a moment, trying to decide if he could trust the stranger. He had no reason to, but he finally decided to drink. Thirst was burning his throat, and he knew that he had developed a fever. But he also realized that if the man just wanted him dead, he could have killed him a hundred times over while he had slept. But that wasn’t part of the game, it was only the end of it.
“Who are you?” Iolaus demanded, after he had gulped down the fresh, cold water.
“We never were properly introduced, were we?” The man smiled, showing his perfect, white teeth. “My name is Lycomedes. I’m sure your next question was going to be ‘why am I doing this?’ I’m afraid I don’t really have an answer for you. There’s just something about the thrill of the hunt, the challenge of the chase, and the excitement of the kill. I need the release it brings me. I crave it. It’s more addicting than any drug.”
“You’re insane,” the hunter whispered.
“Maybe,” Lycomedes shrugged. “But its who I am. I’d rather just admit to it instead of hiding behind the excuse of insanity. Too many people try to cover for their actions that way. I believe in taking responsibility for oneself. But you are also a man of principle. I’m sure you’d agree.”
“Don’t start comparing yourself to me,” Iolaus growled, pulling himself painfully to his feet. “We are nothing alike.”
“Iolaus, you’re a wreck,” the man murmured sympathetically, watching his prey swaying before him. “I considered letting you be for awhile to give you a chance to recover a bit. I hate to force our confrontation when you are so disadvantaged, but I’m a little concerned that you won’t last to fight another day.”
“Ask your buddy with the scar how disadvantaged I am,” the hunter said coldly.
“I should thank you,” Lycomedes replied. “You spared me the trouble of killing him. I don’t know why you didn’t finish the others. You obviously had both cause and opportunity. One thing I hate is having to clean up other people’s sloppy work.”
“You killed them?” Iolaus wanted to make sure he was understanding this.
“I lose more friends that way,” the man said with a sigh. “But hunting is a dangerous sport. Besides, its part of the game. They lost to you. As a trophy, you should have taken their lives. But, as you refuse to play by the rules, I had to do it for you. It was nothing personal.”
The hunter took a deep breath. This guy was even more unbalanced than he had previously thought. That also made him more dangerous. Iolaus took another deep breath and tried to focus. His vision was blurring in and out, and he was having trouble keeping himself upright. The sword felt heavy in his leaden arms. He was shaking with chills, even as he wiped the sweat from his brow. The odds of him coming out of this alive were grave, at best.
“You should be proud,” Lycomedes commended him, rising to his feet and taking up his sword. “You started with nothing, and fought admirably, defeating three fine warriors. You turned out to be an adversary beyond my expectations. You’ve earned my respect, and for that I promise to make your death quick.”
Iolaus surprised even himself with just how much grim determination he possessed. The hunter was somehow able to fight off his attacker for a few minutes, but it was obvious to both of them that he couldn’t hold out. He just had nothing left. Lycomedes sent his sword skittering across the ground and held the tip of his own sword at the hunter’s chest.
“You’ve played the game well, Iolaus. Do you have any last words?”
“As a matter of fact I do,” he stated, glaring defiantly at his opponent. “It’s a simple fact that might be of use to you in the future.”
“And what might that be?” The man favored him with an indulging smile.
“Games are always more fun when played with your friends.”
Lycomedes suddenly found himself dangling helplessly in the air as Hercules plucked the sword from his hand.
“I thought you could use a little help,” the demigod told his friend.
“Nah, I had him right where I wanted him,” Iolaus protested, giving his partner a grateful grin of thanks.
“I’ll remember that next time,” Hercules said wryly.
“As always, Herc, you have an impeccable sense of timing.”
“Well, now that I’m here, what do you want me to do with him.” The demigod gave the man dangling from his grasp a little shake and looked to his partner for an answer, noticing with alarm that Iolaus had suddenly gone very white. He dropped his captive and quickly stepped forward, catching his friend as his knees buckled.
“Lycomedes is getting away,” Iolaus whispered, wondering how he was able to tell with the world spinning before his eyes. Hercules gently eased him to the ground and took off in pursuit, but Lycomedes whistled sharply and his horse came galloping out of the bushes. With an agile leap, the man had jumped astride the horse and they were soon out of sight.
“He’s gone, Iolaus,” the demigod said as he returned to his friend. “But don’t worry. We’ll get him later. Right now we have more important things to take care of.”
“Yeah, I’m not doing so good here, Herc,” the hunter confessed with a shudder.
“I know, buddy,” Hercules reassured him. “But everything’s going to be all right.”
“The arrow’s still in my shoulder,” Iolaus told him. “You have to get it out.”
“We will. But first we need to find some kind of shelter. It looks like rain tonight.”
Carefully, Hercules gathered his wounded friend in his arms and stood up.
“Herc, I can walk.”
“I know,” came the brisk reply. It was the no nonsense tone that not even Iolaus could argue his way out of. Not that he was really in any shape to care. It was humiliating for him to be carried, but the hunter was focusing on other things. Like trying to stay conscious as the world spun like mad and threatened to overtake him, and trying to get a grip on the nausea that was pressing in on him. In the end, the nausea won.
“Herc, put me down.”
“Iolaus,” the demigod began in exasperation. “This will go much faster if you would just let me...”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Iolaus interrupted hoarsely. Hercules immediately set him down next to a large bush. The hunter knelt on all fours, feeling the sharp pains knifing through his abdomen. Blackness was threatening to claim him, and he felt strong hands holding him up as he started to sag. Finally, his stomach gave a great heave and sent a mouthful of water and bile surging over his lips. Iolaus retched over and over again, his body jerking violently as it tried to expel something that wasn’t there. When his insides finally calmed and relaxed, he was shaking badly and barely conscious.
The hunter was dimly aware of Hercules rolling him over, wiping his face, and murmuring softly to him, but he was unable to respond. Then he was being lifted once more, carried within those powerful arms that had the ability to crush stone, but were now cradling him with infinite gentleness. Iolaus dropped his head down to rest against his friend’s shoulder, feeling the soft material of his shirt under his cheek. He felt so sick, and was in so much pain, but he was no longer afraid. Hercules would take care of it. And with that comforting thought, Iolaus let himself give in to the whirling dizziness and sank into unconsciousness.
He was a bit disoriented when he woke, but the hunter was relieved to find that the world was no longer rushing past his eyes in a wild blur. Iolaus soon made out that he was lying flat on his back in a cave, and as he turned his head to the side he saw Hercules arranging twigs for a fire.
“Hey,” he whispered faintly.
“Hey,” the demigod greeted in return.
“Where are we?”
“Just a cave, not far from where I found you.”
“How long was I out?”
“Not long enough,” Hercules answered wistfully. “I was hoping you’d stay under until I had a chance to take care of that wound.”
“Herc, how did you know?”
“Artemis,” the demigod explained, striking his gauntlets together. The spark the friction caused fell to ignite the twigs, producing a little flicker of flame. “She came to me and told me what was going on. Apparently, she was angry that these men were, to use her words, profaning the noble sport of hunting. Anyway, she told me where to find you.”
“Why didn’t she just take care of these psychos herself?”
“I’m not sure about that, but she kind of gave me the impression that they were under Hera’s protection. Artemis has always been so quick to defend herself and the things she considers sacred, that I have a hard time believing she wouldn’t have dealt directly with this problem unless she was forbidden to interfere.”
Hercules added a few larger pieces of wood to the growing fire, and moved around next to his friend. He squatted down on his heels, and blue eyes met blue eyes.
“Are you ready?” the demigod asked softly, wishing with all his soul that he could spare his heart’s brother from the impending pain.
“Let’s do it,” Iolaus muttered.
Hercules took a few minutes to arrange everything that he would need. He had found some herbs that would help while he had been gathering wood, and he placed these in a small pot of water over the fire. The demigod also held a small knife in the flames for a few minutes, then set it aside to cool. He filled another bowl with water and began ripping a piece of fabric into strips.
“Where did you get all this stuff?” the hunter asked curiously, watching his friend work.
“On my way here I kind of stumbled onto a cabin hidden in the woods,” the demigod explained. “I guess those men had been using it as their base of operations. Artemis told me that you’d been hurt, so I figured I’d better help myself to a few supplies. They’ve apparently been at this for awhile, because they had quite a trophy collection inside. Which reminds me...”
Hercules rummaged through the bulky pack he’d brought and pulled something out, pressing the object into his partner’s hand. Iolaus’ fingers closed around the polished stone and he sighed in relief.
“Thank you, Hercules,” he whispered. “I really would have hated to lose this.”
“I know,” the demigod replied. “And I have the rest of your stuff here, too. But first...”
“I’m ready,” Iolaus said with a nod of resignation.
“I could make you a tea that would help dull the pain.”
“I don’t think it would stay down,” the hunter admitted, rolling over on his stomach to expose the wound.
“All right. Just try to relax.”
Hercules knelt beside his friend and unwrapped the bandages. He took the small knife in his hand, and as quickly and as carefully as he could, he cut the head of the arrow out of the hunter’s flesh. Putting the knife back into the flames, he removed the pot of herb water and thoroughly cleaned out the wound. Through it all, Iolaus had remained stoically quiet, gritting his teeth as he bore the ministrations. But, he could not hold back a cry of pain as Hercules touched the red hot knife to his tender skin.
“I’m sorry, Iolaus,” the demigod murmured, tears forming in his eyes for what his friend was suffering. But he continued to cauterize the wound, hoping that he was killing the infection as he sealed the injury shut. Finally, he was done. Hercules gently washed the wound one more time before wrapping a clean bandage around the hunter’s shoulder. Iolaus had momentarily lost consciousness, but he began to come around again as the demigod bathed the sweat from his body.
“Thanks, Herc,” he whispered in a voice that was barely audible.
“Here,” Hercules said gently, easing his friend onto his back and lifting up his head. “Have a little water.”
Iolaus obediently took a sip, trying to fight back the nausea as he swallowed. The demigod hovered near him, ready to roll him over if the fluid came back up, but after a moment the hunter relaxed and even took another sip.
“I wish Elissa could be here with you,” Hercules said as he tried to make his friend comfortable.
“She couldn’t have done it any better,” Iolaus told him sincerely. With his last bit of strength, he reached out and caught the demigod’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Herc.”
“Go to sleep, Iolaus,” Hercules gently commanded, giving the hand in his a slight squeeze. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
The demigod spent a long, sleepless night worrying about his friend. Despite his efforts, Iolaus’ fever kept climbing, and the hunter tossed restlessly, caught somewhere in between sleep and consciousness. Hercules repeatedly bathed him with cold spring water and gently restrained him when he would lash out while in the grip of some fever dream. He didn’t know which was worse, watching Iolaus ranting in delirium, or having to watch him in his current state. Awake and suffering, silently pleading with fever glazed eyes for his friend to help him. As Hercules tossed another chunk of wood onto the crackling fire, he saw a chill run through his partner’s body and a low moan tore from the hunter’s throat.
“I’m here, Iolaus,” the demigod whispered, kneeling next to his friend. “I’m right here with you. Everything’s ok.”
Iolaus closed his eyes, concentrating on his friend’s soothing voice. Another violent chill shook his body, and he felt Hercules lift him into his lap. The demigod propped him up against his chest and placed a mug against his cracked lips. Iolaus obediently swallowed the cold water he was offered, and then Hercules eased him down so that he was pillowing the hunter’s head with his leg.
“You’ll be fine,” the demigod reassured him. “Try and rest now.”
The hunter didn’t feel like he was going to be fine, but Hercules had sounded pretty confident, so he decided to go with that theory. Iolaus felt the cold, wet cloth come again, going over his face and neck, and then his chest. It cooled him for a moment, but as soon as it was gone the heat was consuming him once more. But it kept coming, bringing relief if only for a short period. Hercules kept talking, too, and Iolaus was soon lulled to sleep by his quiet, monotone voice.
When morning arrived, the hunter’s fever had dropped enough so that Hercules felt he could leave the cave for a few minutes to retrieve more wood and water. Stepping out into the sunlight, the demigod took a deep breath of the fresh air. The rains of the night before had washed everything clean and had left the scent of the earth in the gentle breeze. But Hercules did not linger long in the peaceful morning. Instead, he quickly refilled their water skins and hastily gathered some damp pieces of wood. He hadn’t wanted to leave Iolaus for long, but when he returned to the cave he found the hunter still sleeping soundly.
Eventually, Hercules decided that he should get some rest himself. He hadn’t slept since Artemis had told him of the predicament his partner had landed in, and fatigue was now starting to get the better of him. Stoking the fire, the demigod wearily lay down and closed his eyes, falling asleep almost immediately. When he woke a few hours later, his first thought was Iolaus. Checking his friend, Hercules found that he was sleeping peacefully and his fever had broken. Breathing a sigh of relief, the demigod stretched and stepped out of the cave, feeling the warm sun on his face. The warmth of the afternoon was a reminder that the heat of the summer was not far off
Hercules went at a more leisurely pace this time, gathering in more wood and water. When he got back to the cave, he found two rabbits hanging in the entrance. Dashing inside, the demigod found Iolaus sleeping where he had left him. Cautiously, Hercules approached the rabbits and examined them carefully. They had been freshly killed, and he could detect no amount of tampering with the meat.
“Artemis?” he quietly asked. There was no answer, but Hercules was certain that his half sister had left the gift for them.
Going back into the woods, the demigod was able to find a few tubers and herbs that would compliment the meal. He made a sort of watery stew with them, adding in chunks of rabbit meat. When it was ready, he gently woke his partner. Iolaus was hungry, which Hercules definitely took as a good sign, although he complained loudly over the demigod’s cooking. After they ate, the hunter grumbled a little, but he held still and allowed his friend to check the arrow wound. There was no trace of infection, but Hercules carefully cleaned it and applied more herbs anyway.
“You always said I was too ornery to die,” Iolaus reminded him as the demigod rebandaged the wound.
“And I meant it,” Hercules shot back. “If I hadn’t seen you do it on more than one occasion, I would have thought it impossible to be stubborn to the extent that you refuse death.”
“Believe me, Herc,” the hunter yawned. “If it were that easy, I’d live forever.”
“Iolaus, I have to ask you something.” Hercules had been growing uncomfortable with the current conversation, hating to even joke about the possibility of losing his friend permanently to the other side. Abruptly, he changed the subject, but there was something that he’d been meaning to ask the hunter. “That man you were fighting when I found you. What did you call him?”
“Lycomedes. Why? Did you know him?”
“I’ve heard of him,” Hercules replied grimly. “He was once a great warrior. No one could touch him in battle, and he had a knack for strategy. But he also had a sadistic side, which started coming out more and more often. He started playing “games” with his prisoners, inflicting them with inhumane torture. It got to the point where nobody wanted him in their army, because he was just too unpredictable. He began traveling around Greece, staging exhibition matches. But soon no one would challenge him because everyone that did ended up dead by his hand. Villagers say that whenever he would show up in their towns, he often left a string of victims in his wake. Not just men that would challenge him, but young women, too.”
“Everything’s a game to him,” Iolaus reasoned. “He’s got this twisted form of sportsmanship. A girl in a tavern somewhere would be a challenge to him. He’d make a game of seducing her. Once he succeeded, then he ended the game as the winner. And for whatever justification he created for himself, the end of any game he played was always the same.”
“Death,” the demigod said with a troubled frown. The partners were silent for a few moments, each deep in thought. A sudden shiver ran through Iolaus, which did not escape his friend’s eyes.
“Are you all right?” Hercules asked in concern, immediately kneeling next to the hunter and checking for signs of the fever’s return.
“Herc, I’m fine,” Iolaus protested, pushing the demigod’s hands away. Finally, Hercules became convinced that his friend was not becoming ill again, and he backed off a little after pulling the blanket tighter around the hunter’s shoulders.
“Really, I’m ok,” Iolaus insisted. “It’s just that... Lycomedes scared me.”
If Hercules had any reaction to this confession, he didn’t show it. He merely sat back on his heels and listened.
“We’ve been up against a lot of nuts over the years,” the hunter continued. “But with all of them, you could tell that they didn’t quite have both oars in the water. There was that insanity deep in the eyes. But with Lycomedes... I don’t know how to explain it. He was just like any ordinary guy off the street. If I had met him somewhere else, in an inn or a tavern, I probably would have sat down and had a drink with him. Even when he was about to kill me, he had this completely benign look on his face. No anger, no insanity, no bloodlust, no evil. Just a calm, friendly smile. How can you protect yourself from someone like that? From someone who has the power to immediately charm you, but then can take your life without batting an eye?”
“I don’t know, Iolaus,” the demigod said quietly. “The enemy that seems non-threatening is the most dangerous one you can have.”
“You once said that about Elissa,” Iolaus reminded him with a small smile.
“And I wasn’t entirely wrong,” Hercules insisted. “She may not have been dangerous, but I learned in a hurry not to underestimate her. She seems so sweet and innocent, but she can be devious when she needs to be. The outward appearance doesn‘t necessarily match what‘s on the inside, and its very easy to be deceived by that contradiction.”
“Still, you can’t compare her with Lycomedes. Dealing with him was just so unnerving,” the hunter murmured. “A heart of evil in a face of goodness.”
“I guess the best I can offer is that you’re safe from him now,” Hercules consoled. “And if he’s stupid enough to try again, he’ll have to go through me first.”
“My hero,” Iolaus snickered.
“Its about time you finally realized it,” the demigod grinned back. “But before your adulation goes to my head, I think we both should get some sleep.”
Despite all that had happened to him over the last few days, Iolaus was lulled to sleep rather quickly. He sleep deeply, untouched by nightmares and reassured by the presence of Hercules lying on the other side of the fire. The hunter knew that he was safe with his partner, and that the dark night held nothing to fear as long as Hercules was by his side.
The following day, Iolaus felt stronger and spent much of the afternoon outside of the cave. He sat in the warm sun. talking and laughing with Hercules. It was their down time. Whenever they encountered a particularly tough adventure, especially if said adventure resulted in bodily injury or near death, the partners always made it a point to spend a few quiet hours together after it was all over. It was their way of dealing with all of the emotions that would get stirred up, especially the fear, grief, and guilt. All of these negative feelings could be released, and they would reassure each other of their continued presence and friendship. They had been doing it for so long, discussion of these emotions was no longer a necessity. By just taking a little time alone together, they could efficiently deal with everything they were feeling and move on. It was a luxury forged by the closeness of their friendship over so many years.
Despite all of Hercules’ objections, Iolaus was determined to start back to Athens on the next day. The demigod pleaded with his friend to give himself more time to recuperate, but as always, arguing with Iolaus was as effective as arguing with the cave wall. The hunter promised his friend that he would take it easy and rest often, and although he was still weak and sore, his stubbornness won out and the pair set out for Athens.
The first day of travel was hard on the hunter. He didn’t want to admit that he had done too much, but it wasn’t hard for Hercules to see. When they stopped to camp for the night, Iolaus looked rather worse for wear. The demigod did everything he could to make his partner comfortable without making it seem like he was fussing over him. It was a knack he had developed over the years. But after a long night’s sleep, Iolaus awoke in the morning, ready to set off again. Traveling became a little easier on him as they continued their journey, but Hercules still made him stop and rest frequently, and once they had left the wilderness behind for civilization, the demigod insisted that they spend the night at an inn.
“I’m not about to deliver you back to Elissa looking like a walking corpse,” he declared adamantly when the hunter complained about his friend’s nagging.
Finally, they made it back to Athens. Iolaus was looking a bit rough around the edges, but all in all he was doing much better. He led Hercules through the crowded streets to the little house where the healer had been staying. The hunter had told his friend that Elissa would still be at the symposium, considering the time of day, so both men were surprised to find her there.
“Are you all right?” the girl asked worriedly, stopping herself from flying into her husband’s arms as she saw the bandages around his shoulder.
“It’s just a nick,” Iolaus assured her quickly. “Everything’s fine. Hercules took care of it.”
“What happened to you?”
“That is a long story,” the hunter sighed, sinking down wearily into a chair. “But what are you doing here? I figured you’d still be at the symposium.”
“I didn’t go today,” Elissa told him, somewhat evasively.
“Are you ok?” Iolaus started to become concerned as he took a good look at his wife. She looked tired, and seemed a bit pale.
“I’m all right,” she answered. “Just a bit under the weather this morning.”
“You’d think with a whole symposium of healers at your disposal, one of them would be able to do something to help you,” Hercules joked.
“I’m afraid there’s nothing they can do for me.”
“What do you mean?” the hunter demanded.
“I can’t exactly be sure yet,” Elissa began, unable to hold back a smile. “But from my symptoms I’d say that you’re going to be a father.”
It took a few minutes for Iolaus to comprehend this news. He sat openmouthed as Hercules took the healer in his arms and spun her around in a circle.
“A...father?” the hunter whispered, hardly daring to believe he’d heard correctly.
“That’s what the lady said,” the demigod said with a huge grin, pulling his astonished friend up out of the chair. “Congratulations, buddy,” Hercules told him, giving him a warm hug before pushing him toward his wife.
“A baby?” Iolaus took the healer’s hands and looked at her with tears shining in his cerulean eyes. “Really, Lis?”
“Really,” she confirmed.
The hunter laughed with delight and hugged his wife tightly to him. For a moment, he thought about how close he came to dying out in the woods. How close he’d been to never seeing his beautiful healer again, and never knowing about his child. But he quickly pushed those thoughts out of his mind. No matter how recent, those events were now the past, and he would not let it mar his celebration. He was going to be a father. And Iolaus vowed that this time, nothing was going to take that away from him. He wouldn’t let it, no matter what the fates had in store.
Disclaimer: No animals, psychotic hunters, or original story ideas were harmed during the writing of this story.
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