After Robin was finished trading arrows and feathers, he divided up his prizes. Buttons, needles, thread, and other useful bits were tucked into a box to be used later. Food, wrapped in the strange fabric the Hunters called "plastic", was hoarded in the very back of the food stock. Robin was a little like a magpie in his hoarding tendencies, always tempted to gather sweets and eat them over time. The Hunters did not visit as much as they used to, so Robin had to make this hoard of sweets last.

Thalia and her Hunters would soon be on their way, following the tracks Robin had seen at the edge of the forest. Now Robin simply had to find a way to send the demigods back to their camp. They couldn't stay in the green wood for much longer without there being consequences. The Hunters would never notice, but these mortals might.

"Robin?" he turned, smiling - but the smile quickly faded to puzzlement as he saw Thalia, Andy, and Will standing there looking serious.

"What troubles you?" he asked, standing.

"Robin, I don't mean to be rude," Andy said, in a way that clearly indicated she was about to be incredibly rude. "But how old are you?"

Robin opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Years... do not make much sense here," he said instead.

"Because we think you might be really, really old," Andy said.

"Does that bother you?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. He didn't see why it should, but the three looked upset.

"Robin, do you know what year it is?" Thalia asked, trying to sound helpful. When he said no, they told him.

"That is later than I thought," he said, but still couldn't see their point.

"Well, doesn't that make you wonder - since you're mortal and all - why you're still alive?" Thalia said.

"The green wood..." Robin started, but then shook his head. "No, it's is best if you sit." They obeyed, even the boy Will son of Apollo.

"I lived on Parnassus for a long time," Robin recounted. "Until I was eighteen. Then I grew restless. I wished to leave and explore the world, meet other demigods like myself. My mother did not wish it. She had lost her first son, her beloved Orpheus, and feared losing me as well. That is why she chose to raise me, against all customs dictating otherwise. So it was arranged that I go to live in a forest near Parnassus. My mother and her sisters had set up magical protections around it. Nothing that wished to harm me and no monsters can cross the boundaries of the forest. I understand your Camp Half-Blood is like this?"

They nodded.

"My mother also put one extra protection in place: no maenads would be able to cross into the green wood. Maenads, the female followers of Dionysus, were the ones who killed my brother Orpheus. Then, to make sure she would never lose another son, my mother asked Zeus to bless the forest."

Robin took a deep breath, then continued.

"This is no ordinary wood. It exists in all places at all times. But because it is in all times, it is timeless. Therefore, though I can be killed, I will live forever if I do not leave the green wood. But I must ask that I accompany you, Andy and Will, back to your camp."

"What?" Andy asked, incredulous. "But you might die!"

"Yes, but that is a risk all demigods must face," Robin agreed. "And Thalia is not the only one missing a friend." Will and Andy looked at him expectantly, but Thalia simply looked sad and sympathetic, keeping her blue eyes down.

"She, too, wandered into these woods," Robin said. He could still remember that day, it had not seemed so long ago...

It was a hot day, but coolness could be found in the shadows of the forests. The scent of the flowers was thick and cloying in the heat, encouraging sleep. No wind ruffled the treetops, all was very still. Even the bees seemed to have gone to sleep in their lily beds, and the lizards dozed contented on their stones. And in that stillness, Robin dozed beneath a willow tree by the cold, silent waters of a stream.

A sound broke the stillness, like a disturbed deer who has suddenly been flushed out of the thicket. Robin opened his eyes and saw, through the willow branches, a truly breathtaking sight.

The girl was tall and slim, wearing a frothy blue gown that cascaded down past her knees. A silver circlet crowned her long, unbound fair hair. Her eyes were the color of the sky over the mountains and held a sadness that made Robin want to weep, though he did not know why. She did not wear sandals, and her feet were cut with thorns and streaked with mud. The hem of the dress was torn and bloody. As she walked, the girl wept openly.

Leaving his quiver and bow, Robin rose and came out from under the willow. The girl stumbled to a halt upon seeing him and looked at him tearfully. For a moment they stood in silence, a silence Robin knew he should break, but he could not.

"Her name is Oenone," Robin said, his voice far away. "The river nymph and daughter Crebren, the river-god. She was lost, alone, and grieving. I took her in."

She spoke little, and always softly. Robin sometimes wondered if she'd ever recover from her grief. He knew her story: oh, he knew it well! But Robin could not seem to draw her out of her sorrow.

It is a story well known that there was once a foolish prince named Paris. He was a prince of Troy, a city whose doom was woven in the Fates' tapestry.

A golden apple, perfect and pure, inscribed with the word Kallistei, "to the fairest". That one word, that one perfect golden fruit, would doom a nation. For three goddess claimed the apple for their own: Hera the queenly, Athena the wise, Aphrodite the beautiful. Zeus wisely refused to judge the contest of vanity, but instead gave the apple to Paris, so that he might choose.

It is a story well known that Paris, in his foolishness, chose to give the apple to Aphrodite who had promised him a beautiful wife, the most beautiful woman in all the land: Helen of Sparta.

She was married, this Helen of Sparta, and when Paris took her for his own there was a war between the Greeks and Trojans.

It is a story not well known that Helen was not the only one who was married. Paris had also been wed years ago to the nymph Oenone. He rejected her, scorned her, and left her for Helen, beautiful Helen of Sparta.

Oenone lingered in the hills outside of Troy. For ten years and more she lingered while inside the walls Paris shared his bed with another woman and the Greeks pounded on the city gates.

Then Paris was hurt, cut by the poisoned arrows shot from the bow of Philoktetes the Greek. Paris's patron, Aphrodite, brought him from the battlefield into the hills outside of Troy. She laid his body beside Oenone's stream and begged the nymph to heal him with her magic powers. Oenone refused.

Paris died beside her stream, in the arms of the river nymph. Here, legend says that of all the men and women in Troy and Greece and all the known world, only Oenone grieved whole-heartedly for his death.

Now, some say that Oenone, in remorse and sorrow, threw herself upon Paris' funeral pyre. Others say she jumped off a cliff or she hanged herself or she leapt from the very walls of Troy. Only Robin knew the truth.

The green wood clearly at some point in time and space touched the woods outside of Troy. Oenone, stumbling from the corpse of Paris, began to wander, lost in the forest. For her, it was as though upon leaving Paris she came upon Robin.

They never spoke of that day. They didn't need to.

"You think she might be at our camp," Will said.

"I am afraid that, being left alone to her own devices, Oenone might harm herself," Robin said. "I must find her and, if she allows it, return her here to the green wood. It is safe here, away from grief and death. I do not know why she left."

"Why would she harm herself?" Andy asked, confused. Robin looked at her solemnly, not answering.

"Oh," Andy said, suddenly seeing. Yes, it is difficult when one like Andy Tiber, full of life and promise, saw how one like Oenone, full of sadness and guilt, wished to end her days. Robin knew gods were not truly immortal; they could end their life if they knew how.

"Just so. Will you let me go?" Robin asked.

"Of course," Andy said immediately. Robin waited for a moment, looking at Will. The son of Apollo didn't not meet his eyes, but he seemed distinctly unhappy about the whole thing. Then Robin turned to look at Thalia.

"It's not for me to give you permission, Robin," the Hunter said, shaking her head.

"But you do not wish me to leave," he guessed.

"I'll admit it doesn't make me happy," she said. "Gods know what will happen once you set foot outside. All your years could catch up to you and you might die."

"I do not think that will happen," Robin said, shaking his head. "You have to understand this: though I live each day as you do, they seem shorter to me. I believe I am eighteen still, or possibly a few years older."

Thalia nodded. Of all people, she ought to understand Robin. She had been trapped in a tree for years and aged very slowly, as Robin now aged.

A/N: Footnotes (there's a lot today!):

Orpheus: the son of Calliope, he was torn apart by maenads when he refused to sing joyful songs for them (alternatively, for refusing to worship Dionysus). Said to have a beautiful voice that could charm wild beasts.

Maenads: mortal women who devoted themselves to the worship of Dionysus. They did so by drinking and dancing until they were in a frenzy; sometimes in this state of madness they would attack young men and kill them.

Oenone: everything mentioned in the above story is true. She can be found in the Posthermica and in a beautiful poem by Tennyson. The only thing not clear is how she killed herself (the most likely options are mentioned above) or what type of nymph she was: water (naiad) or mountain (oread). For the sake of this story, she is a naiad.

The Contest of Vanity: hmm, I'm assuming everyone's heard the story, besides everything you need to know is above

Philoktetes: friend of Hercules. When the great hero died, he gave his bow and quiver of poisoned arrows to Philoktetes. It was later prophesied that Troy could not be taken without these arrows. Paris did, in fact, meet his death because of one.

A note on godly suicide: I've only ever heard of it being possible among naiads who, by drowning themselves, are able to erase their existence.