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If the cyclops was among them, he wouldn’t even be able to tell.

“Baa!” The sheep’s sudden cry made him jump.

“Gods, will you stopdoingthat?”

He glared at the sheep, but it continued to scream at him.

“What do you want?” he snapped, rising to his feet.

The sheep backed away and started to turn, bleating as it did.

“I’m not following you,” Dionysus said.

The sheep seemed to glare at him, which left him feeling uneasy. It reminded him of Ariadne’s frustration.

Fuck. What if she was turned into a sheep?

What if this sheepwasAriadne?

You’re a fucking idiot, he scolded himself.

But he found himself taking a step toward the sheep, which offered another wavering cry and started toward the dense green forest ahead.

Dionysus followed, feeling ridiculous but also hoping the animal might lead him to others and eventually the cyclops.

The terrain was thick and varied, the ground covered in vines that tangled around his feet. After tripping once, he was over it and used his magic to untangle a clear path as he followed the sheep. It was not long before they came to a quiet river, which the sheep seemed to follow up and into the more mountainous part of the island.

At some point, the sheep stopped and turned to look at him. “Baa!” it yelled.

Gods, he hated that sound, but the creature was looking up at a towering cave where several sheep had been herded.

His heart raced. This had to be where the cyclops lived.

Dionysus scrambled across the river and scaled the steep incline to the cave where the cyclops’s flock was gathered. The ground was littered with bones, and his stomach churned as he fought the urge to call out to Ariadne, not knowing what lingered in the cave. Most of it seemed to be well lit, given that part of its roof had fallen away, allowing sunlight inside. The entrance sloped down, and at the base, there was a lake, green in color.

The sheep gathered near it, their bleating cries echoing inside the cave, making him cringe, though he hoped it was enough to drown out his footsteps as he crept through the shadowy parts of the cave, scanning the mossy rocks for any sign of Ariadne.

Suddenly, he spotted a hand sticking out from the darkness.

“Ari!”

Her name slipped from his mouth, a cry he could not contain. He raced to her, and his hand had barely touched hers when she was yanked away.

Dionysus’s eyes widened, and he looked up into a pair of red-tinged eyes.

“What the fuck?” he said and summoned his thyrsus. The weapon seemed to trigger the creature in the shadows, because its eyes flashed and then it bellowed, lurching toward him and out of the shadows.

Dionysus was face-to-face with the ophiotaurus. Its shoulders were hunched, neck curved, hoofs pawing at the ground.

He took a step back and it lurched forward, farther into the light. He noticed the rest of its body, which went from that of a bull to a serpent tail, curled protectively around Ariadne, who was not conscious.

“Ari,” Dionysus said again and started toward her, but the ophiotaurus roared, and he froze. “Easy,” Dionysus said, holding up his hands. “I came to rescue her.”

The ophiotaurus stared, still rigid.

“Were you protecting her?”

The creature huffed a few times, and Dionysus took the opportunity to inch toward her. The ophiotaurus kept its spotted and striped tail around her.