If I Had Words

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Chapter 67      Chapter 69

The chariot landed lightly in a clearing beside a fast moving river. Psyche stood up, having eaten enough of the bread she’d found in the basket. 

The Goddess had not only been good enough to include food and water, but had given Psyche shears and a blanket as well. 

As Psyche stepped out of the chariot, she felt more hopeful. Maybe this task wouldn’t be as hard as the first. At least Aphrodite had given her a better start.

Psyche pulled the basket from the chariot and looked around to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind. She knew even the smallest thing could be useful. 

Satisfied, she turned to the chariot to bid it farewell. As simple and ugly as it was intended to look, Psyche loved it. It reminded her of her cottage. 

“Thank you,” she said to the chariot. She smoothed some of its wood and at her touch it seemed to noticeably improve its sheen. “I think you are beautiful.” 

In answer the chariot added a small painted flower decoration to the sides.

Psyche smiled. 

“Do you think I can manage this task?” she asked the chariot. 

Before the chariot could answer, the horse started to get restless. No time for chats and comforts. Psyche gave one last loving pat to the chariot before backing away. 

As the chariot took to the air, Psyche noticed gold trim winding its way around the handles. It was as if the chariot was trying to encourage her. 

Gold. 

Right. Back to the task at hand. 

With the chariot now out of sight, Psyche surveyed her surroundings. It seemed there had been multiple crossings back and forth between the mainland and the island. There was a well-worn area on her side and a corresponding landing area on the island. Otherwise all along the banks of both, reeds, trees, and overgrowth blocked her view.  

Psyche balanced her sandaled foot to the water and shivered.

This wasn’t going to be an easy crossing.

Psyche gathered up the basket of provisions and stepped into the water. The current got stronger the further in she went. She did her best to ignore the gasps that came as her body got used to the cold. 

The water was to her chest and she tried to steady her breathing, but the cold and her rising fear as the water tried to push her downstream made her inhale and exhale too quickly. 

Without warning, her little gasps were silenced as her foot slipped and she was pulled under. Granary dust floated on the surface where Psyche had disappeared. 

Struggling through the current, Psyche fought to keep a grip on the basket as the river tried to push it out of her hands. The extra weight propelled her downstream with greater force. Psyche started bumping into rocks as she hit a shallow section and she used a free hand to try to push herself up for air. 

Breaking the surface, Psyche ignored the sting as she blinked and tried to look for the landing area on the island. Nothing on both sides but overgrowth. She was already too far downstream. 

Her heart sank as she was pulled under again. 

Psyche tried to kick her way towards the island in the hopes of at least reaching the other side before getting pushed down too far. She managed to get part way before the water pushed her against the thin branches of a dead tree, hanging over the water like a bony hand. The dried twigs scratched her face, neck, and arms before she managed to swim away. That put her back towards the center of the river again where the current was strongest.   

Her kicks and strokes did little to help her as the basket continued to drag her down.

Psyche tried to concentrate her kicks upwards in the hopes of pulling the basket hard enough to get it more securely against her body, but it was too heavy. With every pull that Psyche made, the river seemed to pull it harder away from her. 

Now she was spending more and more time underwater as she tried to keep hold of the basket. She turned to swim back to the mainland, but the current was too strong. She tried swimming towards the island, but the basket was too heavy. She was losing strength and losing the battle to get to either shore. 

Please, she silently pleaded as her energy and will started to sag. Please, help me.

Her request was to nothing in particular. 

Suddenly, the basket caught on something and Psyche finally caught up to it. With the basket no longer dragging her under, she managed to kick up and take in a good breath. The river tried to push Psyche past the basket, but she dug her fingers into its softened weave and held on. 

Finally, she was no longer being pushed downstream.  

Psyche looked around and saw that the basket had snagged on a branch from a large tree on the mainland. She tried to pull it free but her precarious balance in the water gave her little additional leverage.

She looked across the river to the island. It looked so close, yet it felt out of reach with the hostile river current in between. 

This is hopeless, she thought.

She finally abandoned the idea of getting across and decided to use the tree branch to pull her way back to the mainland. As she moved along the branch, the basket easily dislodged and she kept it between the branch and her body so she wouldn’t lose it. 

She soon found herself among the reeds, lining the shore. 

“Thank you,” she said to the branch as she left it in search of the shore among the reeds. 

Her feet tried to find the bottom, but her legs only kicked water and stems. At least she was no longer being pulled under or downstream.

The reeds were getting thicker and it was harder to push through them with her basket. They almost made their own kind of surface, but her steps were swallowed up in the layers of stalks and leaves. 

She decided to rest for a moment, suspended in the tangled overgrowth. 

“I’m never going to get across,” she said to the reeds. 

In answer, the reeds untangled themselves slightly and made a path to the shore. 

It wasn’t a path to the island, but it was something. Psyche pushed her way through them until her foot finally hit solid ground. Psyche pulled herself and the basket onto the mud of the bank. 

She looked back at the river. 

Unyielding. 

Uncaring. 

Cold and cruel. 

Aphrodite must really hate her.

I’m going to fail, Psyche thought. I’m not strong enough to get across.

Psyche fought the tears now welling up in her eyes. She had completed the first task, but how to cross the distance to the other side — to her second? 

A tear dropped on one of the reeds. It placed a leaf on her hand, as if it was trying to reassure her.

You will make it across, the reed seemed to say. Don’t lose hope. You will make it. 

“How?” Psyche said to the reed. “And even once I’m across the river, how can I complete this task?”

Answers will come, the reed seemed to say. 

Psyche wasn’t sure how she would find answers, but she took heart at the reed’s encouragement.

Psyche got up and started the walk back towards where the chariot had landed. She wasn’t sure how far down she’d been pulled, but she figured she had a better chance of success if she started where she could clearly see both sides. The basket was a different kind of heavy as she tried to balance her waterlogged supplies in her arms. She eventually hefted it onto her head to give her arms a rest and ignored the squish and the water that dripped down to her neck. 

The basket was definitely a problem. 

Psyche remembered Aphrodite had included shears. Certainly those were for cutting the wool from the sheep, but maybe she could use them for something else too. 

Psyche was growing tired. Would she ever reach the clearing? She knew the current was fast and had pulled her a long way downstream, but Psyche wondered if her idea to return to the clearing would leave her with little time to get across and find the sheep. 

She decided to put down the basket and rest for a moment among the trees and brush. She really needed to figure out another way to manage the basket so it wouldn’t drag her down. 

Psyche took out the shears, hoping they would spark some idea. 

Could she tie the basket to her back? The only material she had was the dress she was wearing. 

The dress wasn’t particularly special and yet she found herself hesitating. She thought of her sisters and everyone at home. If only they were here. Aglaura would know what to do, and Cydippe would make the task cheery. 

Even so, she had to keep trying. 

She cut a neat strip off the bottom, deciding to carefully include the fancy embroidery as part of her strap. 

It would make it stronger. 

She measured the length, making sure it was long enough to fit around her. She worked one end between the sticks of the basket and made a loop. She tested it for length one more time and then tied the ends together. 

At least one problem seemed to be solved. 

Psyche dropped the shears into the basket on her back and started walking again. It was a bit longer before she finally reached the clearing. It felt like she had managed a great feat, and yet she was back where she’d started. 

Trying to ignore her despair, Psyche stood for a while surveying the water and judging the distance she needed to cross to the island. 

It wasn’t exceptionally wide where the two clearings lined up. Maybe, with the basket on her back, she could make the distance with a good, strong swim. 

Psyche got back into the water, eyes on the island, and began a frantic swim across. She made it to the middle before her strength started to fail and she found herself once again rapidly making her way downstream. 

Quickly, Psyche turned back and searched for a way to return to the mainland before she was pushed too far. The reeds seemed to stretch their leaves towards her and she grabbed on and pulled herself back up the riverbank. 

Psyche stood panting, trying to catch her breath as she thought about what to try next.

She had to get across. 

But going straight across didn’t work. The river would just keep pushing her downstream.

Psyche began pacing, as she tried to focus. 

Was this a trick, a way for Aphrodite to make her fail at the task before she even got to the island? 

Still pacing, Psyche thought. 

The current was too strong to swim across. 

A reed touched her hand.

Don’t try swimming across, it seemed to say.

“Then what? How can I get to the island?” Psyche said. 

Use the current, the reed seemed to say.

The current?

How could she use the current? All the current did was push her downstream, away from the landing on the other side. 

The reeds rippled upstream and Psyche tried to make sense of what they were doing. 

Upstream?

Wait.

Something finally clicked as Psyche wondered whether she needed to swim at all. Could the current carry her to the other side if she started further upstream? 

Perhaps.

She would need to start further up the shoreline to make sure she had enough time to work her way across the strong current. 

Psyche started walking along the shore, watching as the reeds waved and shook, helping her measure how far up she’d need to go to get across. The reeds seemed confident on a certain spot Psyche had reached. It looked a bit far to Psyche, but she decided to step into the water again.

Using both hands she balanced herself in the water as it got deeper, she carefully let the river carry her downstream towards the island. She kicked and reached forward, following along with the river’s current. She managed to get to the river’s center, then past it. She avoided overhanging branches and the reeds on the other side, keeping herself well-aimed at the clearing. 

She felt a rush of excitement, slowing herself slightly as she neared her destination.

She was going to make it!

Gliding gracefully through the water, Psyche felt her feet touch the ground. She lifted herself out of the water and stepped a few more steps onto the shore of the island. 

She let out the deeper breath she had been holding. 

She had done it! She had made it to the other side!

Psyche turned back to thank the reeds on the mainland’s bank. She gave them a wave and a smile. She never would have made it without their guidance.

Then Psyche faced the island. 

Time to find those sheep!

Psyche climbed up the bank and wondered how long it would take to find these sheep with golden fleece. 

What a sight that must be! 

She looked up at the sky, wondering how long her struggles with the river had cost her in time. The sun was past its brightest point, but still some time away from sunset. 

She walked a good while, not sure where to go to find the sheep.

Sheep, sheep, sheep — 

She couldn’t find any. 

Where were the sheep? 

Psyche continued to scan the landscape for signs of gold and noticed that the island lacked general appeal. Other than the bright green reeds which grew tall and thick near the water, the island was otherwise dry and barren. Twisted thickets grew together and were separated by large patches of yellow, dead grass. There were some scatterings of grey rocks and twigs among black rocks and larger stones. 

This island was certainly no paradise. 

As she got further away from the shore, the rocks and twigs appeared with more and more frequency. Psyche tripped over one, but thankfully caught herself. 

She examined the rock she’d tripped over and suddenly gasped. 

It wasn’t a rock at all. 

There, sticking part-way out of the ground was a bone-dried skull. 

She frantically looked around her, now seeing bones littering the ground everywhere.

Psyche tried to calm her breathing as the horror of this place sank in. 

Aphrodite was wrong. This was not a place of exile. 

This was a place of death. 

Those poor sheep!

She took out the shears from the basket, just in case, and kept walking. 

Perhaps that was why she was struggling to find any sheep. Something was eating them. 

Then she noticed a flash of gold in the distance, mixed in with a bit of green. She must have found her way to another edge of the island.

Finally. 

As she got closer, she could see that she had indeed found a lone sheep, enjoying some water or plants near the river. She looked around to see if there were any more, but it seemed to be alone. 

A lone sheep. Psyche hoped whatever it was that was eating them wasn’t close by. A lone sheep would likely be more vulnerable and an easy target for the island’s predator. She shook her head as she briefly looked around before continuing her creep forward. 

Sheep weren’t the smartest animals. Didn’t they know it was better and safer to stick together? 

She crept closer and closer and Psyche couldn’t help noticing how beautiful its hair was. It constantly sparkled and glistened in the sunlight as it moved. Psyche imagined such creatures would draw crowds of admirers. They could easily look past the bleak landscape.

Slowly and steadily, she inched her way forward, trying not to scare it away. 

The sheep seemed completely unbothered, busy lapping up the water. 

Closer, closer. 

Or was it eating grass?

It was hard to tell. The sheep’s head jerked up and down, as if it was pulling at something. 

Probably eating grass. 

Psyche continued her steady approach, thinking about how she might manage to cut some of the curly hair. In the village, it was usually a comical sight watching the inexperienced shearers trying to steady the flighty sheep during wool-cutting season. To truly and successfully gather all of the wool, the sheep would need to be led to a stall of some kind. She wondered how much she could cut off before the sheep bounded away. 

Well, however much, she had to try. 

Doing her best to move silently, and trying to avoid crunching anything underfoot, Psyche had managed to come close enough so that she was only several steps away from the grazing sheep. 

Readying her shears and trying to steady her hands, she carefully stepped closer.

Psyche’s heart pounded in anticipation. She was now close enough that with just a few more steps, she would have her prize. 

Suddenly the sheep lifted its head and perked up its ears. 

Psyche froze, resisting the urge to move. She was behind him, but any sudden movement would surely scare him away.   

Psyche wondered if she could get at least a handful of fleece before he lurched out of reach. 

Maybe.  

Psyche leaned forward, wondering if she could get something.

Just a little more —

Her gaze remained transfixed on the sheep’s rump, hoping for at least some amount of golden hair to add to her basket. She risked a quick glance at the head to see which way it was turned. 

Her heart stopped. 

The sheep had slowly turned its head and was now looking at her as if it had been put on backwards.

It was staring back at her with sunken eyes that had a strange, reddish, other-worldly glow. The animal had a horrible underbite, which made it look quite dumb. The jaw was slack and exposed sharp jagged teeth. 

Liquid ran from the creature’s lower lip and down its chin.

Not water.

Blood. 

Psyche looked down at the creature’s feet. 

A mangled mound of flesh lay beneath it.

Psyche gasped.

Droplets of blood flung from the creature’s mouth as it snarled and untwisted itself towards her.

Psyche tried to get her feet to move, but they seemed unaware of the danger in front of her.

Finally, a thought penetrated her brain and took hold of her feet. 

Run!!

Psyche spun around just as the creature lunged at her. Her feet set a frantic pace as her body and arms tried to steady the rest of her. She fell forward, smashing the hand that held the shears against some bones. Luckily, her panic allowed her to ignore the pain and she quickly pushed herself back up again. 

Stumbling forward towards some of the overgrowth, she struggled to find a clear path and crashed through briars and thickets as she fought to widen the distance between herself and the creature. The twigs and thorns tore at her skin and dress. 

Suddenly she heard an ear-splitting shriek. 

Her own cries for her bleeding wounds? 

The shriek had come from behind her and the suddenness urged her forward. 

Better thorns than those teeth!

She ran until her muscles ached. 

She finally slowed her pace as her energy began to run out and she risked a glance behind her.  

There was nothing there.

Psyche stopped, taking in heaving breaths as she tried to slow her heart rate. 

So these were the creatures leaving behind the trail of bones. 

Man-eating sheep.

She continued to take in deep breaths as she recovered. 

Then Psyche’s eyes grew wide. 

Her task. 

She needed to collect wool.

From them??? From those terrifying creatures???

Psyche shuddered.

She’d felt so accomplished just getting across the river. 

That task was hard. 

This task could not be done.

Psyche looked for a place to sit down. She needed to think. 

Resting against the trunk of a tree, she examined herself. Her legs and arms were decorated with long and deep scratches, now all bleeding. 

Hopefully the creatures weren’t attracted to the smell of blood. 

Psyche took the sheers and began cutting more strips of fabric from her dress and bandaging up the worst of her wounds. 

She felt like a complete idiot. 

Of course Aphrodite would make this one worse. Not just a difficult crossing of a river, not just a little lamb to chase around. 

No. 

Go gather wool from creatures of nightmares. 

No problem. Let me just go do that.

Getting up, Psyche sighed. 

How could she possibly gather up a basketful?

A basketful!

She began pacing. Then something caught her eye. Something shiny and glistening. 

A clump of wool. 

Psyche bent down and tried to free the little clump. A thorn stabbed her hard in the thumb.

“Ow!” she said, pressing on the wound to reduce the pain and bleeding. “That wasn’t very nice!” 

The bush didn’t seem to care. 

“Yeah, I know. Why should you care? You don’t have to be nice to me,” Psyche said. 

Wasn’t there anything good about this place? 

No, only horror and pain. 

Then she thought.

Imagine a life spent growing on such a horrible and loveless place. 

No beauty. No joy. 

Psyche softened. 

“I’m sorry,” she said to the bush. “I tried taking the wool without asking, didn’t I? Will you forgive me?” 

The bush shimmered. It seemed to appreciate the apology.

“See,” Psyche continued. “I’ve been given this impossible task of gathering up a whole basketful of that wool and I have no idea how to do it. I saw your small clump and it gave me hope. 

“May I have it?” 

The bush loosened its thorns and branches until the clump of wool dropped to the ground. 

“Oh, thank you!” Psyche said, surprised. “Thank you so much!” 

Psyche picked up the wool and examined it. 

“If I could get enough small clumps like this, I could gather enough to fill the basket,” she said absently to the bush. “But where to find enough sheep? And how to get enough wool stuck to the branches? And how to avoid being eaten??”

The bush shook and started a ripple across the row of bushes to the right. 

“This way?” Psyche asked.

The bush shook and started the ripple again, expanding in the same direction. 

Excitedly Psyche picked up her basket and followed the ripple of thickets.

Following the bushes, she came to a small clearing where she could see that on the other side of the wall of thorns stood an entire flock of the golden — creatures. 

Psyche instinctively crouched down behind the bushes, accidentally brushing against some and getting scratched.

“I’m sorry,” Psyche whispered.

The thorn bushes shimmered. 

“So how do I gather up the wool? Won’t they hear me?” she asked quietly.

Psyche looked up at the sky and noticed there were still just a few hours of daylight.  

Suddenly, her heart leapt out of her chest as she heard another ear-splitting shriek coming from somewhere among the sheep. The single shriek was joined by others until there was soon a full chorus of howls and screams. 

These creatures sounded even more terrifying than they looked.

She felt her blood run cold. Were they coming after her? Had they smelled her blood? 

“Please,” Psyche whispered to the bushes, crouching further down among them. “Hide me.”

The bushes unlaced their branches and made a small space for her. She inched her way in, trying to make sense of the continued screams on the other side of the thicket. 

As Psyche inched her way deeper into the bushes, she could now see the commotion on the other side.

Psyche couldn’t believe her eyes.  

The scene before her was utter chaos. 

Golden-haired sheep here running everywhere, dashing themselves against the thickets and shoving each other as they scrambled to get away. A group would run in unison one way and then suddenly turn in terror back towards the thorny bushes. 

What had come over them??

Psyche watched in amazement as the sheep continued to screech and shriek around the clearing. She pulled up the front of her dress to her mouth and tried not to cough at the growing dust.

Not that they would have heard her. 

Then, as suddenly as it started, the noise and leaping slowed to a stop. 

The sheep stood panting for a while, clearly exhausted. 

Then without warning, they suddenly formed into lines and left the clearing.

Psyche sat back in utter shock. 

What just happened?

Glancing up at the sky, she decided she would puzzle over it later. 

She was running out of time. 

Cautiously, Psyche inched herself out of the mix of branches and entered the clearing. She checked carefully for any stray creatures. 

They all seemed to have left. She scanned the bushes and noticed a hefty amount of golden clumps stuck and trapped inside all along the wall of thickets.

Psyche placed a gentle hand on the thorn bushes. 

“May I have some?” she asked.

In unison, the branches all started untangling their thorns and twigs, releasing large and small pieces of the creatures’ wool. 

“Thank you! Thank you so much,” Psyche said as she began gathering up the clumps. She grabbed handfuls from the ground and quickly put them in her basket. 

Soon her basket was full. 

“Thank you!” Psyche said in amazement. “How can I ever truly thank you??”

The bushes shimmered. 

Psyche smiled. 

Even thorn bushes needed a bit of kindness and care to help them soften and act less prickly.

Psyche wished she could stay longer, pour more love over them, but she knew it was time to go. 

“One more thing,” Psyche said. “Would you help me find my way back to the shore?” 

Trees and bushes gladly took turns shaking and shimmering, guiding her back to where she had landed. 

Psyche’s shoulders relaxed at the sight of the mainland shore. 

Never had she seen a more welcome sight. 

It was nearly dark, but Psyche could still just barely see. She put down her basket and pulled out the damp blanket. Wrapping the basket in the blanket, she secures her precious load.

More confident this time, Psyche entered the river — still shivering against the cold — and let herself get swept away in the current. The current carried her a good distance down river as she struggled with the basket in her arms. She was less worried about hiking back to the meeting point. 

After a bit of a struggle, Psyche reached for the reeds which helped guide her to the shore. 

Climbing the bank, Psyche lay flat on her back and looked up at the first few stars appearing in the dusky sky. 

She couldn’t believe she’d done it. 

She’d accomplished the second task. 

By the light of Artemis’s moon, Psyche made the walk back to the meeting point. 

Then, with her wet bundle secure in her arms, she laid down and fell asleep.

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Chapter 67      Chapter 69