Despite feeling her mortality every day since her arrival, she still found herself instinctively looking at others, as though she could see power in them or see the hand print of time written on their features. But there was nothing, he was no different than she was, as far as she could tell. Much like her awareness at the frailness of her body, she knew the absence of her powers and felt blind without them.

She could recall seeing his face around the village, though she didn't remember searching for him. There was a kindness in his eyes that she recognized and a weariness that she had come to associate with men of great destiny. Daedalus had it, as had Prometheus.

Circe smiled, rubbing her dirty hands on her skirt nervously. "I don't mind. I should like the company. It's been too quiet in my home without animals around me." Her fingers ran along the crocdog's back. "He seems gentle enough. He won't need taming."