Each night, though, she lies with Aeson and Promachus pulled close, pieces of her own body, and can’t imagine the world without them. As necessary as moon and sun and water, and not belonging to her father. Reclaimed in darkness, belonging only to her.

Cyzicus left no heirs. Does he remember the feel of Medea’s body on his, first embrace after death? Does he long for her? Shadows, each of us living in multiple forms. Medea’s body is with Jason wherever he lies on this ground, and with Cyzicus, and with her sons, and with Asteropeia, perhaps even Aeetes, and also alone. The gods will demand something too, each of us lying down with Nute each night, and Hekate’s arms reaching up from below.

Valley in which one might wander forever, sealed away from Iolcus and Korinth. Small streams falling from dry mountains, bare trickles enough to refill the sacks of water. Jason hanging back to let them drink and eat, then walking ahead again, mute fragment of earth. Rejoining at night to sleep, gone at first light.

Hills in the distance, hung before them unreachable, folds in the air. Without roots, no connection to the valley floor, lost somewhere in waves of heat. At the edge of where gods dive through land to keep it from dissolving into nothing, margins left imperfect, unformed. All hardening beneath Medea’s feet.

Her younger son falling behind, so she carries him on her back, his mouth on her neck, wet as he loses himself in sleep. Weight of him slumped, hills gaining color, deepening into brown and even red, smooth slopes become sharp, outcrops of rock and the valley rising, tilting.

They climb in shadow, Aeson before her, Promachus on her neck, leave the valley and find Jason in last light as if he were a remnant god, not yet fled.

Your sons are still alive, she says.

He has left the sacks on the ground, goatskins of water, the last of the food. Salted fish, dried meat, all that makes the tongue burn.

We’re not far now, he says. Two or three days. Through these hills and another valley, shorter, and a few more hills.

What will we eat?

I’ll kill something, he says. Or we’ll just wait. It’s only two or three days. We have water.

And who could want more than that?

In Korinth, we’ll have plenty.

Depending on Kreon. We certainly received a great welcome from Pelias. You handed over the fleece and all was laid at our feet.