Reyna drummed her fingers on her shins and looked around the hollow, bored. It had been two weeks since the she-wolf Lupa had taken her in. Since, she had learned an unbelievable amount. How to face an enemy, how to hold a sword, how to throw a spear. How to ride a horse, how to stand when addressing one's superiors. How to make offerings to the gods, how to pray, and, most importantly, what was expected of her.

Your position is unique, Daughter of Rome, Lupa had told her only a few days ago. You are the only child of Bellona to walk in Rome's territory. You are her representation on Earth, her primary connection to this world. You must live up to that standard.

The she-wolf said it so casually, Reyna almost believed for a moment that it wouldn't be too hard. But she was no fool. The weight of being "Bellona's representation on Earth" was already weighing on her, despite having practically never met the goddess before. What was she supposed to do, wait and look for hidden symbols? Listen for her voice again? Sacrifice animals and root through the entrails, like the ancient Romans did?

You fight, Lupa had told her when she asked. You train and you command your fellow Romans. It is your birthright.

Lupa and her pack weren't the friendliest of room mates. They were bristly and demanding. With them she entered a more vigorous training routine than she ever had before, going to sleep at night with aching arms and knees and ankles and shoulders. She woke up in the morning with bruised shins and forearms, stiff joints and heavy eyelids. She was allowed seven hours of sleep a night, on average; from well after dark to just before the sun rose.

One night, Lupa hadn't let her sleep at all. She and her pack had spread out in the woods around their hollow, Reyna in the center.

Your task is to make it from here to the road, Lupa had told her. Then she had slunk into the shadows and vanished, leaving Reyna with a dozen questions, mainly which direction the road was and what she had to defend herself with. She shouted her inquiries to the darkness at large. The answer was not encouraging.

A Roman must be prepared to find their way when lost, and to protect themselves when unarmed! Learn, child! The Legion needs a leader.

Reckoning that there would be a road cutting along the coast, Reyna headed west, guard up. She arrived at the strip of pavement two hours later, cut and bruised and exhausted, lip split and right ankle sprained. Lupa had come with no praise, only telling her that she must return now. She made Reyna walk all the way back, and by the time she got there, the sky was getting faintly light. Lupa had allowed Reyna one small square of ambrosia and then had her launch into her morning routine.

Now, the pack was out hunting, and Lupa, reckoning that their time with Reyna was coming to an end, had left her back at their base, alone. The hollow had steeply sloping sides, covered with fallen and rotting leaves. It wasn't cold yet, which was a relief, because the sleeping area was a stone cavern off to one side. Reyna was forced to share it with the pack, and at times the smell was a little overwhelming. Aside from that there was nothing in the hollow except for a sand patch used for training.

That was where Reyna was sitting now, tracing images in the sand. Words, actually. The lyrics to her and Gomez's favorite song, one that she hadn't heard in over half a year now. She wondered what he and Juan thought had happened to her and Hylla. She wondered what Mercedes, the kind old woman who worked a piragua cart near the Plaza de Armas, did when she and Hylla stopped showing up every Friday afternoon like clockwork, still carrying their bags from school. Reyna traced a loopy 'M' in the sand and wondered. She missed Mercedes almost as much as she missed her friends. She remembered sitting on the short curb as Mercedes vigorously served brightly colored piragua to her customers, speaking quickly to the girls between servings, asking about their school work and their lives and their dreams. The tiny woman shaved the ice by hand right from a big block. It was, in Reyna's opinion, the best piragua in the city of San Juan, and she wondered if she'd ever tell Mercedes that again. Continuing her depressing train of thought, she pondered whether she'd ever have piragua again, or even if she would return to San Juan.

There were so many people Reyna had wanted to say goodbye to before Hylla had grabbed her by the hand and, with nothing other than the clothes on their backs, stowed away on a ship bound for Florida. She wanted to bring the end-of-year cookies she and Hylla always made to her sixth-grade teacher, Srta. Fonseca, even though the year had ended months ago. She wanted to tell Maria and Kamila that she wouldn't be able to finish their project on the San Pedrito bird with them. She wanted to take one more swing at Luis Ortega and his stupid older sister Paola. She wanted to sneak into the kitchen of Barrachina's during lunch hours on Sundays and help the youngest assistant chef, Necha, cook some mofongo.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts, and Lupa was so silent, that Reyna didn't notice the she-wolf's presence until she was right next to her. When Reyna realized, unsure of how long Lupa had been there, she smoothed away the sand with the blurry lyrics on it. Lupa regarded her as she always did; coldly, and maybe just a little bit curiously. You were dwelling very deep in your own mind, Daughter of Bellona.

Reyna shrugged. "Nostalgia."

Lupa made something that sounded like an incredulous snort, but as wolves didn't exactly have the same expressive range as humans, Reyna wasn't sure. She started to pad away before circling around and laying down in the sand in front of Reyna.

In Greek, she began, 'nostalgia' literally means 'the wound that keeps on hurting'. You will have enough pain in the years to come, child. Do not make more for yourself.

"There was so much I wanted to do before I left," Reyna murmured. "I didn't want to leave at all."

Your road brought you here, Lupa told her, in the gentlest tone Reyna had ever heard her use. It was still as hard as rock, but it was a softer rock, like limestone instead of granite. Many don't wish to follow the paths that have been laid before them, but when you get swept down them, you must do the best you can. Make peace with your own mind, Daughter of Rome, for until you do, you will have no peace with others.

With that the she-wolf heaved herself up and shook the sand off of her fur. In one day, your time with us will be over. Then you will continue your journey to the camp. They will welcome you, given your heritage. Remember this. Have you heard of a man named Machiavelli?

"No," Reyna replied honestly.

He had some very interesting views on the world. You would do well to remember a certain ideology of his: it is better to be feared, than to be loved. Feared over loved, but never, ever hated. Hatred is the acid that poisons kings.