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Iolaus shifted the weight of his pack, adjusting the straps until they sat comfortably over his shoulder and across his chest. He was only a few steps from the top of the last hill, yet strangely reluctant to continue.
His journey from the East had taken months and every day he'd questioned whether he was doing the right thing in returning. What was there left for him now in Greece?
The answer always remained the same. He'd been away for far too long and there was only one reason to return. Cresting the hill, he gazed down at the tall figure standing in the yard outside the small farmhouse. Hercules.
"I'm home."