They made it to the end of the isthmus, past the ribbon of fine-grained sand, and were walking up the sloping dunes, tall grasses tickling their ankles, when the first wisps of fog reached them.

Even though they had been walking briskly–not quite running, more of a frantic hopping–Sage's leg no longer burned. The pain had dulled to a slow throbbing ache and was now numbed by adrenaline.

"Maybe if we make it to the top of the cliff, it won't reach us," Sage panted.

"We don't even know what it is," Violet said as she tugged on the rope shoulder strap of the satchel.

As they continued to climb up the path that they had walked down just that morning, the loose sand of the dunes slowly transformed into a compact dirt that was easier to walk on. But they still weren't able to move as quickly as Sage would have liked. When they were still only halfway to the top of the cliff, the fog was now covering their feet, so thick that their sandals were obscured.

Suddenly, there was a deep rumble behind them.

"Thunder?" Violet asked, looking down to examine the strange ribbons of red fog that had twisted around her skirts.

Sage stopped and turned to look out. Cerikipos was lost in the red sea of clouds. He squinted at the undulating condensation and thought he saw a familiar intense gaze looking at him through the shadows. "Not thunder," Sage said, a cold chill running down his spine. "A wolf's growl."

"Do we run?" Violet asked, her voice rising in pitch.

"No point," the words formed as gravely reverberations from the fog.

Sage grasped Violet's hand as the surrounding air exploded with static. They stood as one, shoulder to shoulder, watching a dark shape solidified beneath them, first crouched down, and then standing tall on two legs.

Carmine stepped out of the fog, absorbing the red glow into the hot coals of his eyes, the mist turning silver.

The air crackled and Violet, without letting go of Sage's hand, kneeled. Sage, however, steadying himself with his crook, only bent his head.

"I did as you commanded," Sage said, his eyes staring at Carmine's boots as they stepped closer, fog still swirling. "And I have done as your sister requested. I am on my way back to her now."

The god let out a low rumble of laughter. "And you'll get to her a week from yesterday with that leg."

"I injured myself while securing the roots that your sister requested," Sage said, the words leaving his mouth before his brain intervened.

Violet squeezed his hand, stopping him from commenting about the added danger of being sent to the temple of a rival god.

"Actually, you had the herbs. You left them behind to rescue her," Carmine emphasized the last word, taking another step forward.

Sage dared to look up, his eyes defiantly meeting the god's, but he was smart enough to keep his lips pressed tight.

Carmine shook his head and let out another laugh. "I'm sure my sister will see it as an act of your loyalty towards your betrothed. And I cannot fault you for your bravery. But either way, it's slowing you down, and you have a purpose to fulfill."

"Purpose?" Sage asked, the response reflexive.

Violet squeezed his hand again, this time digging some of her nails into his palm. He assumed she disapproved of the tone he was using with a god, but it was beyond his control. He was sick of waiting for the gods to fulfill promises, sick of feeling like the butt of their jokes.

Carmine cocked his head, giving Sage an assessing look. "Don't you have a purpose?"

"I–" Sage stuttered, surprised. "My purpose is to marry Violet."

"And to do that, you plan on what? Confronting my mother?" Carmine raised a brow.

Sage clenched his jaw and nodded, using all his willpower to bite back a retort.

"Don't be so touchy, boy." Carmine closed the remaining distance between them. "I'm rooting for you." The god smiled, revealing his sharp canines, and pointed to a large rock a few paces away. "Sit down on that boulder."

After a momentary hesitation, Sage did as he was told, letting go of Violet's hand and limping to where Carmine had indicated.

"Eel bites are nasty work. They're not deep, but very prone to infection. I'm sure Cerise has plenty of powerful herbs, but a goddess of love rarely needs to heal wounds of the flesh. Just of the heart." As he spoke, Carmine kneeled and reached out to touch Sage's bandages. A warm glow traveled through his leg, erasing the throbbing pain. "Good as new."

"Th–" Sage started to say, but the word caught in his mouth as a brown shimmer appeared behind Carmine.

Carmine stood and looked over his shoulder. "What are you doing here?" he asked, as Tawny stepped into existence.

"Got tired of waiting," she answered her brother with a shrug of one shoulder.

Carmine shook his head. "I just finished healing him, too."

"Good, he'll need his leg," she answered. Then she glanced over to where Violet remained kneeling and head bowed, and Sage thought he noticed a dark cloud pass over the goddess's eyes.

"We have the roots," Sage said, drawing the goddess's attention back to him.

"I never doubted you," she answered with a broad smile.

Sage stood, tentatively at first, and then when the pain didn't return, with more confidence. He walked over to Violet. She stood, keeping her head down, and allowed Sage to take the satchel from her shoulder. He opened the mouth of the bag and showed the plants inside to Tawny.

She squealed and snatched the bag, taking out the various tubers and examining each one. "These are perfect!" she exclaimed.

After a moment, Sage cleared his throat. "So, will you help me with your mother?" he asked.

"My mother?" Tawny repeated the words without looking away from the gifts she had received. And then, with a double-blink, as if suddenly remembering who she was talking to, she looked up. "My mother, yes." She glanced over at her brother, who stood with one hand on his hip, waiting. "Aurelia believes that men are made, not born. They are hardened through the trials that life throws at them, and thus you must earn your transformation the same way any boy must prove himself worthy of manhood."

"Haven't I passed your tests?" Sage asked, trying to tamper his tone, but failing.

"He's getting bold, isn't he?" Tawny said, turning to Carmine.

"You think he'd be grateful that I healed his leg." The god shrugged nonchalantly.

"He is thankful," Violet spoke before Sage could get himself into more trouble.

"I am thankful," Sage confirmed, chastened. He lowered his eyes. "But I grow... eager to finally feel right in my own skin."

Tawny weighed the roots in her hands, considering. "The path to Mount Ovidia starts just beyond that ridge. Rest tonight, and at dawn begin. The hike requires determination, persistence, and, most importantly, faith. If you reach the summit, my mother will be there. I promise she will grant you an audience."

"Goddess, do you have any advice to make our travels safer?" Violet asked just above a whisper.

Tawny looked down at Violet through half-closed lids, her expression serious. "A loyal heart will guide you true."

And then, without further ado, both gods disappeared. The fog dissipated and all static left the air.

Sage let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and reached a hand out to Violet. Together, they looked back at where they had come from. Cerikipos stood unphased at the bottom of the sloping hill, much closer than Sage realized. "We really didn't make it very far yet, have we?"

"How's your leg?" Violet asked.

"Ready for this next adventure," he answered. For one more minute, Sage watched the sun dip lower towards the horizon. Then he reached over and picked up the nearly empty satchel from where Tawny had discarded it. "But first, let's go make camp."

They walked the rest of the way up the hill, but instead of following the road around the bend and towards where they had camped the night before, they continued straight, following a faint path through an open field. As the sky glowed with streaks of pink and orange, they looked around for a place to rest.

There were no shade trees to offer shelter, but there was a rock that protruded from the ground, a few shrubby bushes at its base. "I don't think we'll have a fire tonight," Sage said.

"We'll keep each other warm," Violet caressed his arm.

A surge of heat rushed through Sage and he turned towards the woman he loved. Taking her face in his hands, he leaned forward and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his hips, pulling him closer. Their kiss deepened, and they stumbled backwards until Violet's bottom pressed against the rock.

Sage's lips trailed down Violet's neck and she let out a low moan and pressed herself against the length of his body. He bucked, his hands tugging at the folds of her skirts.

But then she slid her hands beneath his tunic, her fingers sweeping against his unbound skin, and Sage froze.

"What's wrong?" she asked, pulling back.

Sage took a shuddering breath, trying to calm the fire that pulsed between his legs and still urged him forward. "I thought you said we needed to wait."

"Why? The way you rushed into those waves to save me?" She kissed the sensitive spot where his jaw met his neck. "We'll be married before the season is over. What's the difference?"

He moaned into her, conflicted. "My body. I can't. Not yet."

Violet tilted her head and looked at him in the eyes. "But is this okay?" she asked, sliding her arms back to his waist and kissing him tenderly.

"Yes," he said, kissing her back, slow, soft.

They both lowered themselves to the ground, their bodies intertwining on the grass. "Before we forget," Violet said between kisses, "you need to apply that paste the priest made."

"Carmine healed me," Sage responded, his hand exploring the curve of her hips.

She pushed him over onto his back and straddled him. "But remember what the priest said. Apply it even if your wounds are healed."

"But..." He thrust his hips, making her bounce.

She planted her hands on his shoulders and ground down against him. "I'll apply it for you."

"Okay," he said, his hand grasping for the satchel. "I can't reach the bag."

"I got it," Violet said, rolling off of him. She found the jar, took off the seal, and placed a small amount in the palms of her hands. Then she tentatively slipped her hands up under his shirt and rubbed the paste into his stomach and ribs, careful not to touch his chest.

He lay unmoving at first, frozen from the feel of her fingers on such sensitive skin. But as she continued to caress it in, his body relaxed into her. And soon, they were rolling over in the grass, laughing at the joy and freedom of being alone under the vast expanse of sky, secure knowing that their bodies belonged to each other, no matter what form Sage's still was in.