Medusa: Fate's Game - Cover

Medusa: Fate's Game

Copyright© 2018 by Novus Animus

Chapter 7

Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 7 - Ancient Greece, in the time of the gods, monsters, titans, and heroes. Medusa, cursed and doomed to live her existence alone, makes a friend in someone she never expected. Friend quickly becomes lover, until the Fates intervene. Fantasy adventure ensues!

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Fairy Tale   High Fantasy   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Petting   Squirting   Tit-Fucking   Voyeurism   Big Breasts   Size   Slow   Violence  

~~Chimera~~

“We are in luck,” he said. “Gaia has provided.”

Pinna and Medusa were up the moment the words were out his mouth. He waved them to sit back down, and he walked over to join them next to the satyr.

“Did you run into anyone?” Bellerophontes said. “Anyone out there that might be trouble?”

“It is as you said. The villages are far from here, but I did see other ships approach nearby waters. It would seem other cities are using Paros as a bay for trade. We should be cautious if we decide to head West.” He sat down, and opened his bag. It’d taken hours to find all the plants he would need: Gaia’s tears, wind trappers, valaram, and some cat’s tongue. Whatever names the humans used, he did not know or care; they were ignorant of what they could do with such bountiful green from Gaia’s womb.

He set a piece of the long green down onto a rock. “Unless Andromeda can find us and pursue us quickly—”

“She’ll need time to fuel her magics, I figure, before she’ll be hunting you down again,” the dark Amazon said. How helpful she’d become in such a short time. His words must have cut her deep. Good. She deserved pain.

“Then Paros will hide us well enough for now. There are animals to hunt, fruit, fish.” He said, half-talking to himself more than anything. He still needed food to fuel his recovery, but for now he would be fine. The satyr needed it more.

And the satyr did deserve it. The bard had risked his life to save Medusa, violated his oath to the Fates, and had tackled a Fate’s Child with his literal bare hands. To do something was one thing, to risk your life another. To do both with your bare hands was the giant’s way, and for that, the satyr deserved his best efforts.

“What ... what’re you gonna do?” Gallea said between groans.

“Treat your wounds. This will be painful.”

The small creature coughed, and laughed. “Of course.”

Pinna put her husband’s head on her lap, and held his chest with one hand, a horn with the other. Medusa took one of the man’s hands as well, and held it to her collar under her chin. The two of them looked ready to burst with worry. Darian and Otrera, on the other hand, looked between each other and then to him with the eyes of hardened warriors; they expected the satyr’s doom. And yet, neither of them had dealt with the pain Medusa had. The difference made him smile, but he buried it as he began his work.

They unwrapped his bandage, and cleaned them in boiled water while he prepared the ingredients. Gaia’s tears had to be chewed; a giant’s saliva was needed to break down the green. He put them into the wound, deep into it, where he knew the plant would break apart in the satyr’s blood and mend the flesh within. It earned screams from the hoofed man, but Chimera ignored them. When he struggled, Chimera pinned his body with his other hand.

Pinna reached out to brace against his arm. The tiny satyr was no taller than his arm was long. “Don’t hurt—”

He frowned at her, and rumbled his annoyance. Sighing, she lowered her gaze, and sat down with her screaming husband’s head on her lap. She reached for Gallea’s hand, held it, and trembled with each pained noise.

Valaram and cat’s tongue, he ground into powder against the rock. A lot of it. The man’s wound was deep and had already started to swell with creeping death; it would take much of the two plants to keep the creeping death at bay, and let Gaia’s tears work. Wind trappers were placed upon the wound, flat blades of grass, thick and prickly. They would not feel good against the skin, but they would remain fixed there, resistant to the shifting bandages that would pin them in place. Wind trappers would hasten the skin’s healing, once blood touched it.

Gallea groaned, hollered, and squirmed through the process, but he could not move with the three of them holding him. For twenty minutes, the only sounds to be heard were his pain. But then, it was done.

“He’s ... going to be ok?” Pinna said.

“He will be fine. In three days the wound will be closed and safe, but it will be several weeks before he should be allowed to move.” A few weeks was probably enough time for the sorceress to renew her efforts to kill them. And after the last battle, it was unlikely the sorceress would repeat the mistake of underestimating their group. If Bellerophon’s story of the sea creature was true, then such a force, or one of similar make, would be her next attempt.

“Th-thanks,” Gallea said.

The small man’s wife stroked his hair, patted his chest, and smiled wider than Chimera thought possible. Tears were in her eyes, and she was quivering.

“Thank you!” Medusa slithered up to him, and threw her weight at him. He was a heavy, tall man, but Medusa had thirty feet of thick snake body behind her. She knocked him over, onto his ass, and wrapped her arms around him.

He froze. Her tiny human half struggled to wrap around his neck, thick as it was, but she managed, and she squeeze him while her snake hair nuzzled and kissed him with little forked tongues. With time, the serpent put her hands on his shoulder and raised herself up from him. She smiled and patted his chest. Tears were in her eyes as well.

“ ... you are welcome.” He reached out to put his hands on her shoulders, but only to push her back to where she’d been before she pounced him. Despite removing her, she continued to smile at him with the eyes of a joyful child.

“Nearly ... killed me ... getting me there,” Gallea said.

“Hush.” The wife flicked her husband in the nose. “We owe you Chimera. We owe you a lot.”

He rumbled, got up, and started to walk off.

“Where you going?” Darian said.

“For food. I must eat, and then I will gather provisions for you all.” He didn’t wait to hear what they had to say about it.

But he did manage a glance at the Amazon. She looked at him with a glare, bitterness apparent. He returned it, offering a silent snarl before he disappeared into the shadow.

Resentful assassin. That’s what you called her, ‘Chimera.’ Awfully hypocritical of you, wasn’t it? Isn’t that why you’re on this journey, after all? A chance to kill a god or two, for some revenge? Revenge for wiping out your tribe and family?

Yes, the similarities were obvious. Blatant. He knew his words were for her, and for him. His goals were trivial, his life meaningless, and he only continued to exist as a petty defiance against the wishes of the world.

He shook his head, and crouched low to the grass and brush as he crept through the foliage. In the night, the landscape was his to hunt; deer and the like would soon be his to devour. He’d make sure to catch some animals for the others as well.

He went higher. The karstic landscape meant there were rock cliffs, and hard, steep faces of rock he could climb. If he was careful, not even a pebble would know he’d stepped on them, and he could continue higher and higher. Above the forest and brush, the land was lit by the stars and the moon, and he could see for miles. Far out into the grasslands and near the shore, little dots of red marked the fires of villagers and vessels meant for cargo. They were closer than Chimera had let on, but he’d keep an ear open. If they approached, he would hide the group deeper into the canyon until it was safe.

The group. A single battle had changed much for them. Not only had they succeeded in their goal, but the joining threads of trust were forming. Gallea and Bellerophon, in particular, had proven themselves. He was happy he could save the fox’s life in the battle, in return for saving his own, and the mischievous little horned creature’s life thereafter. Perhaps the journey would not be a slog of guard dog duty for Medusa, but an actual journey, with conversation, and growth for those within.

He laughed. Birds launched from nearby trees, rodents vanished into the brush, and a few nearby deer bounced away. Damn it.

Climbing down to resume the hunt, his thoughts drifted to the dark warrior. She’d cut him open until he was defeated, the first time they met, and it’d taken all his will to not break her legs when he got his hands on her; defying the grave of old friends was worth many deaths. But they needed her, and he had to admit, he admired the woman.

Admired? You called her out on her self-destructive idiocy. You knew Amazons seek the favor of Ares and you exploited that.

Don’t we all seek the favor of someone though? Isn’t that the real reason you’re on this journey? A little revenge, and a little companionship?

He clenched his jaw and focused, but even as he crept through the black of night, the Amazon danced through his mind. Skin darker than normal for a Greek, and despite her small size and thin body, she was a muscular, lean, strong woman. Fierce, and full of rage. She reminded him of fire.

He liked fire.

He shook his head again. There had been stories of giants and humans copulating, from long ago, when humans lived in the woods and plains with branches and animal skins for shelter. And the idea had some appeal. His mind wandered over the thought of the small Amazon, how full of confidence and ferociousness she was when she scaled his back, cut him open, defeated him. It delighted him that she’d taken him on so directly, unlike Bellerophon, who was content to take to the sky with wings and launch giant rocks at him from above.

She’d felt tough, strong, and tenacious in his hands. Such a tiny thing, the Amazon queen; it amazed him how so much power and beauty could be held in such a small container.

“Then you should devour her.”

He rumbled, deep in his chest, and turned to face the beast.

Night could not justify the darkness that grew upon him. Shadows turned solid black. The returning birds faded into muted chirps. The wind vanished.

His skin grew cold, but fire ran up his legs into his gut. Breathing became hard. His vision blurred, and the stars above became blended swirls of gray against the increasing onyx.

Not again.

From the shadows of tree and rock, enormous claws upon massive paws stepped into view. A snout and teeth followed them, yellow fur, and red eyes. Horns, a mane of dark gold, and huge muscles became visible, and before long, so too the beast circling him. The horned creature looked much like a lion, but colossal in size, and its head carried two coiling horns meant for a minotaur. Never were its limbs or body fully formed, always on the edge of blurring into the shadow mist that fell from its fur.

“She is our prisoner,” he said to the beast.

It gnashed its teeth, hard, loud, and a splatter of saliva hit Chimera’s waist.

“She cut you open. Defeated you. Get revenge. Hypocrite.” The beast laughed, gnashed its drooling teeth once more, and stepped around in front of him. Blackness followed it like leashed fog, and as the beast circled him, the obsidian dripped from its body over the darkened grass.

“No.”

“Yes.”

He blinked, and the beast was no longer there. But a wisp of its edges danced on the side of his vision, and he turned to follow the giant predator as it moved with the wind that did not exist. A treetop, a boulder, in the darkness of bushes and cliffs, the cat melted into the air and reformed elsewhere.

“That is why you’re here, isn’t it?” it said. “You want revenge. You want violence against those who wrong you. She wronged you.” The beast’s voice was a guttural thing, growling, deep, vibrating. It did not move its mouth to speak; its voice came from its whole body.

“She did not. You know she—”

“She cut you open, ‘Chimera.’ She defied your home! She challenged your might and the might of your allies. Eat her. Devour her. Take her strength and meat into you.” The predator dragged its huge claws along the rock it stood upon, and deep gouges broke open in their wake. “Where is the animal hunger within you?”

“She deserves life.”

“For one to live, another must die. You are a predator! And you deny your instincts so you can play guard dog for these humans.”

“Medusa—”

“Is a human in a monster’s body. You waste your time with her.”

“I waste my time with you!”

Chimera jumped forward and reached for the beast, with both hands out to try and crush the monster’s large lion skull in his grip. But the shadow creature moved between his fingers as black fog, and reformed behind him, with a snarling grin on his drooling animal chops.

“We had a deal,” the monster said. “Why not kill Bellerophontes? Trick Medusa, convince her he died from the humans. Eat him. The Amazon would thank you for it.”

“No.”

The beast lunged. Its claws slammed into his chest and sent him toppling. Heavy. The giant lion was as much muscle and mass as he was, and it pressed down on him with claws cutting into his body.

“You will give into your desires sooner or later, ‘Chimera.’ You always do.”

“I will not! If for anything, because these humans will be my chance at revenge against the true enemy.”

The beast snarled, drops of black dripping on his body, cold as ice. Its red eyes pierced the twilight, and as it glared down at him, the darkness surrounded and covered its gold fur until it started to blend into the obsidian of it all.

“You are a fool if you think their plan will let you taste vengeance. The gods are beyond your reach. Their precious humans are not. Bathe in their blood. Dance in it. Hypocrite. Liar.” It faded away, black dripping through its form and blending into the gold of its fur and mane. Like a ghost, the image blurred into the night and over his body, until only its red eyes remained above him. They too faded, grinning, glaring at him.

He sat up. There were no marks on his chest. He looked to the boulder; no gouges there either. Sighing, he got up, and resumed the hunt.



~~Otrera~~

She really wished she was bigger, big like that huge beast of muscle, Chimera. Then she could break her bonds, squash ‘Darian’ in his sleep or something, and get back to the mainland. She’d been reduced to a prisoner. Her! Queen Otrera of the Amazons. A gods damn prisoner.

If only Chimera hadn’t proved to be so damn resilient. If only Gallea hadn’t saved Medusa. If only she hadn’t lost to Bellerophon. It was a bad trap; they hadn’t expected Chimera to survive four undead tearing into him. They hadn’t expected a fourth person to jump in either.

But she knew she was lying to herself. She’d lost to Bellerophon, again. And even worse, she wasn’t angry about that. She wanted to be, she wanted to find that fire, grab hold of it, and let it carry her to the fury she needed to kill him. But it was gone. Every time she imagined killing him, Chimera’s deep, earthy voice cut through the fantasy and ripped it apart.

A resentful assassin, who’d never earn Ares’s favor. A disgrace. Petty. The beast had read her like an open book. All her disillusions of avenging her clan, scattered to the wind by a cold shot of truth right to her fucking face, in front of the man she hated the most.

“Ares,” she said.

“What was that?” Bellerophon turned to her. The two of them sat by the fire, waiting for the guard dog to return with food.

She shrugged. “Nothing.”

Ares. The god of war had not once looked her way. Any Amazon’s way. For over a hundred years her kind had fought battles, and as clear superiors to their foes, but for some reason, their wars were always losses. A storm, a famine, a sickness, the winds and seas themselves fought against the Amazons at every turn. In all their battles, they made names for themselves, true, but not once earned them with victory. Not a single victory to her name, or any Amazon’s name!

And Chimera knew it. That giant was too damn smart, smarter than Bellerophon or Medusa, and probably smarter than the satyrs that were apparently chronicling her actions. She glared at Gallea and Pinna across the fire, but they barely noticed. Pinna was too busy being happy and occasionally bursting into fits of joy and tears and kisses for her recovering husband. Otrera could understand that. She couldn’t understand how the handsome woman had appeared out of thin air.

But, she was in no position to demand an answer. All she could do was hold what little information she had available secret, until she had her last shot at revenge.

She lay back down, and stared up at the stars again. Ares would never favor her. After hearing it laid out like that, she knew her unending efforts to appease the god of war were pointless. If not pointless, she’d certainly not figured out what her god wanted of her. Chimera had seen straight into her heart.

Chimera. The giant was ... giant. Such a wall of muscle and size, and enough scars to outnumber the whole of her clan’s and then more. Dark, deep eyes.

She shook her head. Stop trying to wrap your legs around anything that walks, and instead try thinking about yourself! Introspection. You’re a prisoner, and that’s as good a time as any to question your whole life and all your beliefs and motivations.

She laughed. Bellerophon quirked a brow at her, but she paid him no heed. But, again her mind wandered to the big guy, the weird, dead, horned cat he wore like a cape, and the size of his hands. She’d fit right into those hands like a gods damn toy. For all her new power as a Fate’s Child, if the guard dog had wanted to, he could have ripped off her limbs like petals on a flower.

The thought was oddly arousing. He reminded her of the werewolf she’d enjoyed for a couple months, big and strong and brawny. But the werewolf had been at least half human, the giant was not. The giant was an eater of humans! She knew the stories about the Chimera, roaming Greece, devouring and killing. She saw it first hand when he stopped her and the soldiers from Tiryns from catching Bellerophon.

She shivered. It’d taken a lot of courage to jump his back and start stabbing.

A couple cluck sounds made her raise her head. Speak of devils, Chimera stepped around the cliff face they were camped against, and stepped into the firelight. He had a deer in a single hand, as if the creature weighed nothing, and he laid it down beside him as he sat by the fire. Blood was on his beard, but the deer seemed whole.

“I have eaten something else,” he said, reading her mind. “Where is Medusa?”

Bellerophon nodded. “She’s hunting something down for herself. You know she prefers to eat alone. She’ll get something and then she’ll be set for a week.”

“Week?” Otrera said.

“Yeah. She’s half-snake, after all. She’ll find a deer or boar, eat it whole, and she’s good to go.” He shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Her transformation, she must have used it for hunting and eating as well. The sight of her transformed state had been bone chilling, with its enormous snake hair, huge snake face and snake fangs! But it’d all been warped in a strange way, hints of human shape still remained, but distorted by layers of ... demon. Truly the Medusa of legend, a hideous monster capable of turning people to stone with a gaze. And more than that, given what Otrera saw. The woman could probably defeat Chimera in a fight when she was transformed.

“She’s a strange woman,” Otrera said. “One minute she seems like a timid girl. The next she’s a gigantic monster.” Bellerophon and Chimera both frowned at her, and she shrugged at them. It did make her laugh though. “Protective of her much?”

“She is stronger than either of us,” Bellerophon said, and Chimera nodded. “But ... nevermind.”

Nevermind? Tempting to push that, but she let it go, and sat back up to look at the deer.

“Someone going to skin that?”

Bellerophon shrugged again. “I would but skinning it sitting down isn’t really go—”

“I’ll do it.”

The three of them turned to Pinna, and then past her to the other satyr. He was sleeping, without a cough or fit to be had. Chimera’s medicine was a fucking miracle; she needed to learn how to use that.

“I uh ... it’s a deer,” Bellerophon said. “You—”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not a deer.” Rolling her eyes up, she hopped over to them, reached down, and lifted the buck. The satyr was a strong woman, and her furry legs and deer hooves made Otrera smirk.

She’d had sex with a satyr once. A man, a singer, who liked to hang out near the Amazons due to some kink for strong women. He’d gotten in trouble with them more than once, and nearly lost a limb on several occasions for spying. But he had a quick tongue, witty, and a good voice. A very quick tongue at that. Otrera chuckled. His leg fur had felt nice on her thighs.

Her chuckle faded into a sigh. Thinking about sex all the damn time, despite her current predicament. How long had it been since anyone touched her? Those nymphs had been perfect, and that opportunity was ripped away, leaving her with an ache. Always thinking with your thighs, Otrera.

Pinna quirked a brow at her, but shrugged, and carried the deer away from the camp, knife in hand. Satyrs ate only plants and similar, but Pinna showed no trouble cutting the deer open and removing the insides. Soon, its innards were buried away from the camp site, and the woman came back over to hang the deer by the horns from a nearby branch, and start cutting skin from the meat.

“That doesn’t bother you?” Otrera said.

“Why would preparing meat bother me?”

“ ... because satyrs don’t eat meat. I assumed your kind preferred to avoid cutting into flesh?”

Pinna shrugged again, and made a point of twisting the deer a little so Otrera could see the white tissue split apart by the knife, cleaving fur from muscle.

“We don’t eat meat, true. But what satyr doesn’t live for the company of others? Most learn to prepare meals for humans and centaurs.” Cut cut cut. Skin and fur peeled away, and Pinna was unfazed. “Gallea and I started as wandering musicians and storytellers. We weren’t born into the Fates’ service.”

“How did you come into their service?” Bellerophon said. If he was trying to hide the venom in his voice, he didn’t do a very good job. He must have really hated the sisters.

Pinna frowned at him, and resumed cutting. “If you must know, we were at an inn when a raiding group of barbarian centaurs started a fight. We were caught in the middle, and the Fates offered us a way out. It was either that or risk getting killed, so we made the obvious choice.”

Bellerophon nodded. Chimera said nothing. In fact, when Otrera looked to him and caught his gaze, the tall beast looked away, like he didn’t want to make eye contact. Considering how much the giant seemed to love staring people down, that was surprising.

“You sure you don’t want any?” Pinna said, looking at Chimera. “I can roast a—”

“I am full.” The giant looked into the fire, body still as stone, and breath as slow as the tide. Otrera tried to imagine the beast digging his mouth into a deer, raw, tearing through the hide and getting at the flesh underneath. It wasn’t hard to picture.

“I know, it’s just ... I owe you. You didn’t have to...”

Chimera frowned at the woman, but Bellerophon held up a hand and dismissed the big guard dog.

“Gallea has proven himself,” the small warrior said. “I feel like an ass for being such an ass to him. And Chimera does too, I imagine.”

Rumbling, Chimera nodded.

“You had reason to suspect us,” Pinna said. “So ... bygones?”

The satyr had bounce in her step, life to her voice, and a smile she couldn’t quite shake. Otrera looked her up and down from horn to hoof, and back to the two men. So they hadn’t been on good terms before.

“Not quite,” Bellerophon said. “Gallea’s proven himself, you haven’t. I saw you appear out of thin air Pinna.”

The satyr grunted and turned back to the deer. “You did.”

“And I’m sure the Fates control however you do that, or something. But my question is: would you have stepped in to save Medusa?”

Otrera winced and looked between Pinna and Bellerophon. Way to ruin an olive branch.

“ ... no.”

Bellerophon nodded. “And would you for Chimera? After today?”

“ ... yes.”

He nodded. “Good enough. Not looking for any heroism from you or Gallea, Pinna. Just looking for a little trust. In all honesty, thankful as I am for Gallea stepping in, it shouldn’t have had to happen, and I don’t expect it in the future. Shit is ... shit is—”

“Dangerous.” She sighed, and started cutting into the meat. “And it’s not our fight. Gallea is just an old fool caught up in his old stories.” She laughed, and started removing one of the deer’s legs. “I guess after telling them for so long, he wanted to be part of one.”

Otrera groaned. “You all should have a club. Some place you can sit around, eat breakfast, and bitch and whine and make social connections and evolve as people.” The three of them turned to her, each with a single brow raised, and she chuckled at them. “Listen to yourselves. Where’s the discipline here? You’re not warriors, you’re just a bunch of whiny teenagers and their dog.”

Maybe if she pissed them off enough, they’d put her out of her misery. It was true though; five minutes of this garbage in an Amazon tribe would have lead to a firm beating and a dozen drills.

Bellerophon picked up a twig and threw it at her. “Hey, I—”

A massive hand wrapped itself around her throat, and picked her up. She hadn’t seen it coming, eyes locked on Bellerophon and ready to throw curses at him, but before she knew it Chimera had her up in the air in front of him. He didn’t get up from the ground, still sitting on his ass, but even on his ass her toes only barely reached the ground as he held her up by her neck and jaw alone. Gods damn he was fucking massive.

He leaned in, brought his face in close until she could feel the heat of his colossal body, and rumbled deep in his chest until she could feel the vibration.

“You try my patience,” he said. The depth of the sound made her shiver. She could actually feel the vibrations of his voice through his arm.

“Don’t eat her, Chimera. We need her.”

“You don’t need all of her.” His other hand reached out for her leg, and she froze as his iron grip and gargantuan fingers wrapped the muscles of her calf. Memories of the man he’d torn in half ran through her mind, and the chunk of leg he’d taken a bite of.

She didn’t want to put out of her misery like that!

“Chimera, put her down!”

Ah thank the gods, the snake woman. Medusa came back from the dark — without the tongue clucks of course, no discipline — and slithered over to the giant. The big guy frowned at Otrera, then at Medusa, but did as asked. He set her down again, closer to him this time; probably so he could eat her if he saw the opening.

“Otrera, I’m gone for a few hours and you’re already tearing my family apart.” The serpent frowned at her too, then coiled by the fire closer to ‘Darian,’ the sleeping Gallea, and the carving Pinna.

“You expect your prisoner to stay quiet and just accept capture?” she said.

“No, I ... I mean, after what Darian said happened to you, and now, I ... We are going to let her go, right?” Medusa said. She looked at Darian, head tilting, and a couple dozen snakes on her head tilting as well. “We’re not going to kill her or anything, right? After she tellsss usss what we need to know.”

Bellerophon shook his head. “I didn’t plan on it.”

What?

“ ... what? I’ve tried to kill you, twice.”

“And if I was me, back from before I met Medusa, I’d kill you for it. But I’m trying to not be that guy anymore.” The small warrior sighed, reached over to his pack, and grabbed his helmet. The obsidian and silver piece was beautiful, the white crest of hair more so, and he ran his fingers along its edges with heavy fingers. “I had a choice. Revenge, or let it go. I’m giving ‘let it go’ a try.” With that, he tossed the helmet back, with no care or concern for its condition.

“Easy for you to say,” she said. “Not so easy for everyone.”

“That includes my plans for Zeus.” He threw a frown her way, but it melted away the moment Medusa slithered over to him, and coiled up closer. Green snake scales shimmered in the firelight, and ‘Darian’ leaned against them as comfortably as leaning back against his favorite chair.

“We all have reasons for revenge,” the serpent said. “But ... that’s not what thisss is about, and revenge doesn’t work.”

Revenge doesn’t work. Otrera frowned, hard enough she could feel her nose scrunch up, but said no more about it. If her hands and legs weren’t tied — gods damn the bindings were strong — she’d have smacked the serpent. Revenge wasn’t about working or not working. Revenge was about ... something deeper. Wasn’t it?

The giant rumbled, but said nothing either. He glanced Otrera’s way though, and when she raised her eyes to look at the wall of muscle and scars, he looked away again, back to the fire. Something was on his mind.

None of them had a retort. Medusa’s words hung in the air and silenced them, and Otrera couldn’t help but smirk. The serpent spoke like a naive mom, insistent that everyone could get along. It was refreshing.

A strange family of misfits. Maybe she wouldn’t hate it so much after all.

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