Her dreams came into fruition.

There she was, running past trees and nearly tripping on the thick mounds of snow beneath her feet, breath steaming in the air, the scorpion chasing her for the kill.

There was another detail similar to those in her dreams, and it was that she had no idea what she was going to do. Perhaps climb into one of the trees and attack from above? There was no way she would be able to outrun the monster and scale the slippery bark at the same time.

How could she even hope to pinpoint its exact location when the sun was already on its way down?

She heard a whistling sound and was forced to act fast. Diving to the side, Lauren watched the scorpion's stinger bury itself into the ground she had just been on a second ago. Snow flew up from the sides of the hole and the scorpion's trajectory was renewed.

The amount of fear Lauren felt at that moment spiked enormously.

Instinctively, she rolled sideward to once again evade the monster's stinger.

The ground shook from the impact. Lauren had just enough time to catch a glimpse of the monster rearing its tail back before she planted her foot in the snow and kicked off. Her foot had been an inch away from being impaled by the monster's stinger.

She landed face-first in the snow but quickly collected herself. When she looked behind her, blinking, she noticed Barton stumbling into the scene, blood and another substance dripping from a gash that ran from his shoulder down to the center of his chest. She had no time to worry about him.

"Where is it?" she shouted.

"9 o'clock!"

Her knowledge on clocks was insufficient. She turned to the right and swung the sword, but it hit nothing. Instead, her ears caught the subtle whistling sound in the air. She moved to the side but was too slow.

The monster's stinger opened a shallow gash in her upper arm. A gasp of pain escaped Lauren. Blood flowed. The wound burned.

"Shit," Barton cursed. "Shit, shit, shit—Lauren, get out of there! I don't know where it is!"

"No," she said through gritted teeth, meeting his eyes with steely determination. "We kill it tonight—"

"STAB LEFT!"

Her body worked of its own accord. Bending her legs and twisting her abdomen, she stretched her arm out and stabbed what looked like empty air. But the blade cut through armor and flesh. She pulled her arm back and the steel came away covered in black blood. The monster screeched again.

"Barton…" Lauren's heart was pounding a hundred beats a minute. She stole a quick glance at him and kept his gaze. It was a shot in the dark, but she was fairly certain that it would work.

She nodded. "I trust you."

A look of surprise might have crossed his face, but she was too distracted to see it. She shuffled backwards when the monster backtracked on its trail. And then it moved to the side, backtracked again, and repeated the process.

Lauren scowled and looked to Barton, but he was just as clueless. By the time she'd figured out what the thing was doing, it was already too late.

Its very specific movements had cleared away the snow in the glade they were in, making it so that Lauren could no longer see its trail. Smart bastard.

"Move right!" Barton suddenly shouted, and then seemed to change his mind. "No—LEFT! Now back up—RIGHT!"

Lauren kept light on her feet and did everything that he said. His speech was quick, imprecise. A moment of indecision and reluctance on her part would surely lead to her death or some sort of serious injury. And she didn't want to die. Not yet, at least.

The next minute consisted of her weaving past the monster's attacks. Her eyes were narrowed, ears pricked, mind and body working at overdrive. She was certain she had never been so focused in her life.

Barton never stopped calling orders. His pupils moved left and right at a rapid pace. He was holding his bow so tight that his knuckles turned white.

"Left—Jump right, NOW!"

She did so and evaded yet another attack, but promptly ran into a tree. Her shoulder took the brunt of the collision. For a moment, her vision became fuzzy from the pain. Her ears rang, but the sound was inconsistent due to the erratic beating of her heart. The sword was still in her hand.

Despite her dazed state, she still heard Barton practically screech, "TURN AND SWING!"

Lauren fought past the burning in her shoulder and swung her sword arm, creating an arc over her head. She felt the blade slice through the monster's armor and then through flesh. But it was strangely short.

Something fell out of thin air. One third of the monster's tail. And then yellow liquid began pouring out from where Lauren supposed the remainder of its tail was. Several spurts landed on Lauren's neck and shoulders.

She only had enough time to see the air flicker in front of her, revealing the whole of the scorpion in a millisecond, before the pain hit her like a tidal wave.

Her skin was being seared off. Melting. Peeling away. At least, that was what it felt like. Lauren felt hands grab her arm and start dragging her away from the monster. She screamed; writhed on the ground. The sword was no longer in her possession.

Through the dark haze that had blanketed her vision, she saw Barton skewer the scorpion's skull. And with such force that its head dropped down, pushed by the hilt. The other end of the sword peeked out from the bottom of the monster's cranium.

Lauren felt some sense of satisfaction at seeing the monster dead, unmoving. There was still pain—multitudes of it. But she remembered that Barton had been injured as well. And he was human.

She made to push off the ground, yet the pain engulfed her as soon as she tried. Black spots appeared in her vision and she collapsed onto her side.

Her voice came out raspy when she spoke. "Barton…" Though she wasn't even sure anything had come out. "Clint."

There was the soft crunch of feet hitting snow before his wide figure came into view. He crouched by her side, holding his hands out to her, as if he wanted to touch her but couldn't. There was panic in his eyes—it was the first time she had seen such an emotion in them—and also revulsion. That was only expected. She must look quite horrific.

"Ambrosia… in my bag…" She adjusted so that he could get better access to the pack on her shoulders.

He pulled the zipper open and rummaged around in a rough manner. Lauren couldn't find the strength to complain. The pain in her neck and shoulders had subsided the tiniest bit, replaced by a disturbing buzz. It felt like tiny ants were crawling in her skin, like acid was sizzling and popping in her flesh.

Barton eventually found the square of ambrosia and unwrapped it. He gave the whole thing to her. With shaky hands, she broke off one-fourth of it and stuffed it into her mouth.

The effects came slowly and in small amounts. She felt an ache where her wounds were, and hoped that it was the skin knitting back together. The crawling feeling didn't go away, but her vision heightened. She could see that the sun was now completely gone.

Agent Barton stumbled off to the side and began vomiting the little content he had left in his stomach. Gingerly, Lauren got her feet back under her and walked to him with shaky legs.

He fell to his knees in front of his mess, trembling violently. She broke of a small piece of ambrosia—no smaller than an apple seed—placed a hand on his shoulder and muttered, "Eat this."

She showed him the ambrosia piece, and he shook his head. "Won't I die?"

"We'll have to risk it." And something told her that he wouldn't die so quickly by eating such a small piece. There had to be something not human about him. He did look like Orion, after all.

He opened his mouth and Lauren placed the ambrosia on his tongue. She waited for him to burst into flames, to drop to the ground, boneless and dead. But he didn't.

He only licked his lips. "Tastes just as awesome as you said."

Taking his ability to speak as a good sign, Lauren took a moment to gather her thoughts. The prophecy… She turned and limped to the giant scorpion's body. The sword was still buried in its skull. Lauren pulled it out, being extra careful with the acid dripping down the blade.

And then a thought occurred to her.

Could this substance possibly be Orion's bane?

The pieces fit together with the lore. A scorpion that Gaea sent had originally killed Orion; its poison had stopped his heart.

Lauren wouldn't be surprised if the sword she had found beneath the Anegnoro was another weakness of his as well. It was the only thing that hadn't been corroded by the scorpion's venom.

She lugged the sword with her as she returned to Barton. Kneeling by him, she gripped his arm.

"We have to get back to civilization," she said. "Can you stand?"

"Yeah."

He used his hands as leverage to get himself on his feet, before his knees promptly buckled. He would have fallen into the puddle of his own vomit had Lauren not caught him.

Grunting in exertion, she placed his arm around her shoulders and wrapped hers around his back, supporting him. Her other hand gripped the sword.

Beneath his weight, the pain from her wounds returned. She grit through it and made the first step.

"Come on."

NIGHT 7

The next hour passed excruciatingly slowly. Lauren would have thought that Barton had passed out while they were walking, if it weren't for the fact that he was supporting half of his weight with his own two feet. He was still incredibly heavy. Lauren was positive that her wounds had opened up again, if the intense pain was anything consider.

With every step she took, it became harder and harder to keep her eyes open.

No monsters attacked them. There wasn't even a twig cracking in the distance, or the telltale sound of a wild animal. Something to marvel about, considering that it was already dark out.

It was as if the world had stopped spinning and that the only purpose left was to find other people who would help them. The silence was a blessing from the gods, no matter how idle they may have been as of late.

But ultimately, there came the time when Barton's head began drooping. He became heavier. Lauren thought it best to break the silence, have him focused on talking—anything to keep him from falling unconscious.

"Do you have any family, Agent Barton?" she asked.

He raised his head and grunted. "Sure… Wife, two kids, one on the way…"

Lauren hadn't been expecting him to respond in such detail, though she supposed it was a good thing that he even remembered those details. "What are their names?"

"Well, there's Cooper… a boy… And Lila, a girl."

In the distance, Lauren could see a break in the tree line. After a few more steps, she saw a house. Small, simple, but it had to be enough. "And the one on the way—do you have a planned name yet?"

"We're hoping it's gonna be a girl… Natasha, after her godmother."

"And who is her godmother?"

"I forgot that you never knew her real name… Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow. She told me you don't like her very much."

Lauren was too exhausted to be surprised. "I'm sure the baby is going to be beautiful."

The house was only a few meters away now. The lights were on inside, but she thought against catching their attention by making a ruckus. They could panic and think that she and Barton were hostile.

"I phoned them before we went on this quest, you know," Barton suddenly said. "Told them I'd be back and that I'd cook something on the grill… They love it when I cook…"

Tears gathered in her eyes, born of frustration and pain. "Well, we will just have to make sure that you return to them, yes?"

He scoffed a bit. "You sound just like Tasha."

Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot…

They broke past the tree line and Lauren hastened. "Just stay awake, alright, Barton?" He didn't reply. "Clint?"

His arm fell away from her shoulders and he collapsed in a heap on the snow. Cursing, Lauren stumbled onto the front porch of the house and banged her fist on the door. "Help! Please! Open the doo—" She thought better of herself. "My friend and I were attacked in the woods. Please, help us."

The more she spoke, the more she felt the fatigue settling in her bones. Her knees buckled.

"Open the door. Please… Help…"

When it became apparent that no one was going to welcome her in, Lauren turned and made her way back to Barton. But her foot caught on something—it must have been a rock—and she fell face-first to the ground.

The snow made contact with her wounds, numbing the pain. Her breathing eventually eased out. With bleary eyes, she stared at the mounds of snow in front of her. They looked like tiny, white gems mined from the deepest parts of the earth.

She thought that she could get used to just lying there. It was painless, peaceful, almost. Not having to worry about Khione, or Orion, or the Frost Giants. Not having to watch out for the end of the world every day. She could stay there and make snow angels until winter came again the next year, and she would be buried by the white gems.

At least her grave would be beautiful. At least she would have a grave. It was better than what most people got.

Her ears perked up at the sound of a door creaking open, before she fell unconscious.

Lauren felt warm when she woke up, but not intensely so. That was the only good thing she noticed so far. Her limbs ached, her mouth tasted like something had crawled into it and died, and her head was pounding. But she was alive.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. She was met with the sight of a yellow wall. The wallpaper was peeling off, and the cement behind it was a dark grey. In the far corner, there was a washbasin and a mirror. That was all. It came to Lauren's attention that it was a very small room she was in. But it was cozy.

Looking down, she found that she was cocooned in blankets. She also found that it didn't hurt much when she craned her neck, and that was definitely a welcomed change.

Still, there lied the question: who had taken her and Barton in, and who had taken such good care of them?

With exaggeratedly tentative movements, she peeled the blankets off of her body and placed her feet on the cool floor. A shudder ran down her back and she stretched, waiting for the satisfying crack in her shoulders and spine before allowing herself to become serious again.

Beside the mirror and washbasin, there was a window. Lauren frowned when she noticed the sunlight streaming into the room. It had been evening when she had practically dragged Barton to the house…

Had they really slept through the night? Or had it just been her? Because either way, it was the first time in a long while that either she or Barton had gotten an ample amount of sleep.

She started to trust their keepers even more now. They could have killed her while she was asleep, or chained her to the wall, or left her and Barton outside to freeze to death. They hadn't, and that was something.

But with the thought of morning, something dawned on her.

It was the first night she'd slept through, in nearly a month, without having a nightmare. In which she had to face her death over and over again.

Gathering her thoughts, she walked to the window and looked outside. Everything looked much less threatening in the sunlight, but the snow looked just as magnificent. Clumps of white crystals fell from the sky even though it was morning, and that was enough of a sign that they were deep into winter.

Speaking of winter…

How lucky they had been that Khione hadn't caught them when she killed the scorpion, or when she hacked through the Anegnoro. Lauren was sure that Khione had been more careful to keep Orion's bane hidden away, so why hadn't there been more complications?

Not that she was complaining. She was just skeptical.

But her skepticism soon turned into dread when she turned and beheld herself in the mirror. At first, nothing seemed to be off about her. Her hair was a mess, there were dark circles beneath her eyes, but it was nothing she hadn't seen before. And her shirt had been changed, though her jeans were just as filthy and torn as before. Her weapons weren't on her figure; she would look for those later.

Her attention was focused solely on the monstrosity on her neck.

Instead of the smooth skin she had lived with all her life, there was a large patch of silvery, uneven skin that ran from the base of her jaw, down her neck, and disappeared into the neckline of her shirt.

Lauren pulled the shirt over her head, modesty being the last thing on her mind, and was horrified to find that the scar went all the way to her shoulder blade. On her chest, there were more examples, albeit smaller. And on her upper left arm was a straight silver line.

She prodded at the one on her neck and grimaced; not because it hurt, but because of how it felt beneath her fingers. It was as if the skin had been stitched back together by an old woman's inexperienced, shaky hand.

Artemis had once told them that they should be thankful for the wounds they received. Scars reminded them how far they'd come, how many enemies they'd plowed through, how long they had survived. But the thing Lauren was staring at wasn't a blessing. It was a curse.

She felt the bile bubbling up from her stomach and pulled the shirt back onto her body, looking away before she could retch all over the mirror. It wasn't her house, after all.

There was only one way in and out of the room she was in (not counting the window) and that was the door adjacent the mirror. She turned the knob and stepped out into the hallway… and was promptly met with the sight of a shirtless Agent Barton.

Now, Lauren had seen a shirtless man before, but only once, and his body had been—to put it bluntly—unimpressive. Agent Barton was a different story. Still, Lauren kept her wits about her and looked away, an action that had practically become instinctive after so long living with the Hunters.

"You're awake," said Barton, sounding rather surprised.

"It appears so."

"I thought you weren't gonna—" He stopped abruptly, and Lauren returned her attention to him and found that his eyes were trained on the visible part of the scar on her neck. Shock crossed his face. "I… I didn't know it was that bad."

"The ambrosia closed the wound, but even the food of the gods has its limits. And there had to have been some magical elements in the scorpion's venom… If it's enough to kill Orion, then it's enough to counteract ambrosia."

"At least we match now."

Lauren frowned. "Pardon?"

"Look."

He pointed at his chest. Reluctantly, Lauren lowered her eyes and saw a diagonal, jagged scar running from his left collarbone to the center of his chest. It had the same silvery quality about it, the same uneven stitching. At least his was thinner, easier to conceal.

"Does it still hurt?" she asked.

"No. The ambrosia you fed me worked wonders. But…" He shifted on his feet. "You said before that humans would die from eating even a crumb of that stuff. How am I still alive?"

"I made the connection last night. You have to look like Orion for a reason. You must be a descendant of his."

"Orion had children?"

Lauren shrugged. "It is possible. He lived many years on his own before he met Artemis and joined the Hunt."

"So there's a possibility that my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather is a giant, still alive, and is threatening the universe with his archery set. And he's by Yggdrasil right now, possibly learning all the secrets of the Nine Worlds, while his friends—Khione, that guy who lost a hand, and the Frost Giants—are terrorizing us." He sighed. "Great."

Placing a thoughtful look onto her face, Lauren nodded. "Include the fact that we nearly died more than three times this past week, yes, you have it covered."

"I knew you had a sense of humor in there somewhere."

Barton grinned, and she plastered on a smile in return.

At that same moment, she heard a door closing downstairs, and that was the only time Lauren realized that there was a downstairs. There were voices, and she stiffened. Barton only sighed, as if he had been expecting the arrival.

"That'd be Beth's dad. He'll want to meet you."

Lauren grew even more anxious. "Who is Beth?"