The flutter of wings broke the silence, and she was there beside him. Athena! She reached out her hand, and he held it. This time neither Zeus nor Pluto intervened. In moments they were flying upward, ever upward, to far off Olympus.
He glanced back to the tarn below. The water lilies had covered its surface. The waves lapped gently at the sandy shore, washed tenderly the wild rose.
A few red petals fell softly into the quiet waters, mingled with the white waterlilies floating there.
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(C) 1995 Frank Tymon