Dante's ears were alert and he watched her, eager to listen. When he heard the name he smiled, for he knew the story of Achilles. However, she told it differently. In her story the moral was not to tempt fate. When Atrix had told it, the moral had been to trust nothing but one's own claws. Never depend on another to keep you alive, for only you decide whether you are strong enough. He enjoyed her version much more.
"A fine tale and a wonderful telling. You have a gift for it, you know." He thumped his tail appreciatively on the ground behind him. He felt like a pup again, for he could have listened to her tell stories all day. If only, but he was hardly so young now, and one of the curses of adulthood was the responsibility it brought. "I hate to keep you any longer. I know you still have more herbs to find." He said, looking towards the sky. It was somewhat hard to tell how much time had passed under the cover of the trees. "Perhaps another time we can meet up and I could give you a story in return?"
