Eurylochus stood at the edge of the ship’s storage, arms crossed as he examined their dwindling food supplies. Barrel after barrel, sack after sack, and still, it was clear as day—they didn’t have nearly enough to last the journey. His chest felt tight as he took in the grim reality.

It weighed on him, this problem he didn’t want to bring to Odysseus’s attention. But how could he avoid it? They hadn’t survived a decade of battles only to starve halfway across the sea. Frustration built as he tried to think of a way to stretch the rations or find some solution, any solution, that didn’t lead to the same dead end.

As he paced, he heard a faint rustle behind him. He didn't know who it was, but all he knew was it was the sound of steps—soft, careful, hoping to pass undetected. A fake smile crept onto his face, breaking through his troubled expression.

“Trying to steal a snack, are you?” he called over his shoulder. “You’ll have to be a lot quieter if you want to slip past me.”