Frank was unable to carry out his usual duties while his leg wound was healing. He was relegated to doing some basic mending and playing the panpipes, though their sweet notes made his heart ache for Hazel. His mother made sure he was as comfortable as could be and cooked him warm soup every night, while his grandmother scolded him. "Get up and walk, Fai or your pretty friend will find another rustic to spend time with."

Frank didn't need his grandmother to repeat the worries running through his mind. What if the wolves came back and attacked Hazel? What if Hazel's love for him evaporated in their absence? What if she found someone else who was better than him? Frank didn't think it could be that hard for her to do, so he sighed and tried to get better as quickly as he could.

***
While Frank was recovering, Hazel was busier than ever. The goats knew her well enough, but managing Frank's herd and her own flock was too much on her own. She woke up earlier each day to milk Frank's ewww and stayed out later every night to get them all back home. By the third day, she was so tired her father ordered her to take the next day off. "I cannot!" Hazel said, folding her arms over her chest. "Frank is relying on me."

Hades saw the stubbornness in her eyes and nodded. "Fine, but Nico will accompany you and you will go to sleep immediately. I cannot have you working yourself to death."

So the next day, Nico and Hazel set out in the early morning. It was near the very end of summer and the weather was temperate and neither dry nor humid. The goats stuck to Hazel like thorns on a rose bush and got spooked whenever Nico got near them. This made them easier to round up, but it was also frustrating. "First the villagers don't like me and now the goats," Nico said.

Hazel put a hand on her brother's shoulder. "Mrs. O'Learey likes you," she said. "And I and Will."

Nico's lips curled up into a smile. "Oh well, did you hear about the bard who came through yesterday?"

Hazel shook her head; her brother was obsessed with stories of gods and heroes. "Was he talented?"

Nico nodded. "Just like Homer and he was blind too."

"What tale did he sing of?" Hazel asked. "The Trojan War?"

     Nico shook his head. "No. He sang of the war between the frogs and the mice."

   "There was a war between frogs and mice?" Hazel asked, eyebrows shooting up.

    Nico laughed lightly. "It was along the lines of the Iliad, but with hand-size heroes. I found it to be quite charming."

    "What were they even fighting over?" Hazel asked.

   "I think some frog killed a mouse," Nico said, "and the next thing you know, there's a war."

    Hazel sighed. "Sounds like war to me. I hope we never see it in our lifetime. The stories the bards tell of it are frightful enough."

Nico nodded. "Better to be a poor farmer than a short-lived hero who earns undying kleos."

"Okay, but if you had to be one of the heroes," Hazel said, "who would you wish to be?"

Nico knit his brows together. "Deucalion. He and Pyrrha are the reason we're here at all. And you, sister?"

"Ariadne," Hazel decided. "She has a fairly happy ending marrying Dionysus."

Nico laughed and made a face. "I'm sure she gets to dance all she wants. I'd hate that."

     "Which god would you want on your side?" Hazel asked.

    "The Morai," Nico answered.

      Hazel laughed. "Well, the Fates aren't here to milk the goats, so would you help me?"

     "Sure," Nico said, scooting into a standing position.

    The two siblings took the goats back to Frank's house and gathered the clay amphorae used to hold goat's milk. Then, Hazel milked each ewe while Nico carried the amphorae to and from Frank's house. The sheep were more comfortable around him than the goats, but they doted on Hazel, affectionately nipping her as she milked their teats.

    When they finished, they took the goats and sheep back to pasture. "The visiting bard wasn't the only one who spoke yesterday," Nico said.

     Hazel looked up. "Was it a butcher speaking of the virtues of eating goat meat or an Athenian claiming they are the foremost among the Greeks?"

     "No, it was a poet who spoke of the story of Hero and Leander," Nico replied.

     "I haven't heard that one before," Hazel said as she wove through the flocks, petting and examining each creature.

    Nico circled around the flocks, preventing any animals from darting off. "Hero was a priestess of Aphrodite when Helen was still alive," Nico said. "Leander was a youth who fell in love with her. He spoke to her and she too felt the fire of love, but Hero's parents disapproved, so they kept their love a secret."

    Hazel blinked. If she told her father of her love for Frank, would he disapprove? Frank came from a humble background much like their own and Hades had already rejected suitors who offered more.

    "Plus, they lived in different cities separated by the sea," Nico said, breaking into her thoughts.

     "Did one of them move to the other's city?" Hazel asked.

     "No," Nico answered. "Leander swam across the strait that divided them every night, guided by the lighthouse fire that Hero stoked. One night, however, a great storm rocked the seas and Leander drowned. Hero was beside herself with worry and when she saw his body cast ashore the next day, she died of grief."

    Hazel frowned. Love stories always seemed to be so sad and tragic. Hero and Leander died young. Helen and Menelaus had an affair come between them. Odysseus and Penelope didn't lay eyes on one another for twenty years. If love meant heart wrenching agony, Hazel wasn't sure if she wanted it.