Rending the brake with hounds, shouting aloud,
Crashed like a cast spear the returning chase. The Death
“Itys!” she said, “My brothers. They will kill.” of Itys
He looked down at his hands that held no sword.
Helena’s hounds belled answer to their pack.
Swift as a closing hand, unreal as dream,
Danger shut down around them.
“Dear” he said.
Pollux, the shining-speared, burst through the leaves.
After the slaying, wide-eyed Helen paused