Psyche waited at the banks of the river until Helios began to drive his golden chariot westward. As the sun dipped towards the trees, she carefully crossed the river, keeping her distance from the man-eating sheep. She picked the golden wool off the bushes and scrubs, crossed the river again, and made her way back to Aphrodite’s “house.”
Aphrodite snarled as she entered. “You did well this time,” she rumbled under her breath, “but I have one last task for you that your beauty will not help with.”
Psyche gulped.
The entire time, Eros was healing his burnt shoulder in the confinements of his mother’s palace in Olympus.He was told that his stay was necessary, but Eros was beginning to think he was a prisoner. His thoughts weren’t helping to ease his peace of mind – all he could think of was Psyche’s confused and dazed face as he fled from their new home. The hurt that lingered on her face as he spread his wings.
Love could not be confined. He spread them once more and escaped from the room.