Poseidon stood amongst the wreckage of Odysseus’s men’s ships, his face still curled in a snarl. His chest heaved up and down, hands still clenched. That’s when he saw it. A mortal, barely alive. It was clear he was a survivor, but…Poseidon couldn’t bring himself to kill him. Gently, carefully, he scooped the survivor out of the water, looking the mortal over. He didn’t understand it, but there was just…a sense. This mortal was different from Odysseus and his men..