#rev'swriting

“You… or your crew?”

Eurylochus had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Because he knew, despite the devastation on Odysseus’ face,  exactly what choice he’d make.

'Please, don't make me do this… Don’t make me do this…'

Fourteen gone to the cyclops, five hundred forty three to Poseidon. Elpenor, a fool. Six sacrificed to Scylla at Eurylochus’ own hand.

‘I am not letting you get in my way!’

What was forty-three men after that? A mutinous crew?

Odysseus’ eyes cut to them, wide and stark against his gaunt face, then back to the God.

‘I need to get home.’

Perimedes’s glove creaked as his hand inched toward his sword. Zeus grinned.