We made our way back to the ocean of trees, the forests of oak and pine of Bithynia where we resided in a hunting lodge with latticed galleries, fountains and lavish rooms. There he is, my Adonis, my earthly Ganymede—Antinous, idly at ease, now that he is in his native land again. He is tussling with the dogs on the leather divan, his arrows, dagger and golden belt randomly scattered around the room. I smile, seeing him like that. And I place my bow on the floor, before ambling over to him.
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