Somehow Psyche had found a road, and if that was not miraculous enough, travelers heading toward Feneos had been kind enough to give her space in their wagon in exchange for helping them cook and clean. Each night they camped, she collected kindling for the fire. She learned how to make snares and set them from her hosts. At the nearest polis, a merchant going into Feneos offered her work in his caravan in exchange for the same work she had done for the travelers.
Before the travelers left her with the merchant, they provided her with the cloak and bedroll that they had allowed her to use while accompanying them. Psyche thanked them as they promised to make offerings to the gods for her wellbeing. She worked hard for the merchant’s caravan, falling asleep as soon as her chores were done for the evening. She lost count of the days since she had gotten the fleece for Aphrodite.
She missed seeing her sisters and her parents. Did they worry over her? For a second time in such a short period of time, she had vanished from her home. Would her father fear her too soiled to contract a marriage if she returned? Or would he try to marry her off to the first noble willing to take her off his hands? Or would he send her off to be a priestess at one of the many temples to the gods? She would be lucky if her father proved so generous. She remembered hearing stories of daughters suffering worse fates than those. Her sisters had told her that the stories were recounted to scare daughters into obedience. If she failed to win Eros back, she would suffer whichever fate her parents deemed appropriate, she vowed.
Psyche would complete whatever tasks the goddess of love and beauty set to her to prove that she could be a good wife for the goddess’s son. First she had to complete this task, and then the next if there was one. She could hope that this was the final task for her to complete, but in the back of her mind, she doubted it. The tortures that the gods could inflict on their mortal subject knew no ends, and if she wished to see her beloved Eros again, she would need to endure them.
Sometimes while she slept, she dreamt of Eros, of him smiling at her while they dined on the balcony at his palace. She wanted to curse after waking to find that she was without Eros and that she still had a task set to her by Aphrodite to complete. Psyche rose from her bed and continued to perform her chores with the caravan.
“Tomorrow we reach Feneos,” the merchant announced one day.
Psyche smiled while other members of the caravan cheered. One more night of sleeping among these men and women and one day closer to being reunited with Eros. That night she completed her chores more quickly than she had all the previous days and joined the merchant and his family to listen to the merchant recount the strange things he had encountered during his travels. He claimed to have met Heracles on one of his labors. Psyche doubted it was truth, but the story was entertaining and made her smile. After this tale, the merchant encouraged everyone to take to their sleeping rolls and get ready for the trip into Feneos.
That night Psyche dreamt of accompanying Heracles on his labor to retrieve Cerberus from the Underworld, and the next morning when she woke up, the dream stayed with her. Dawn was starting to rise above the horizon; she could have gotten a few more minutes of sleep, but she heard others among the caravan rising from the beds. She pulled the bedroll off her body and came to her knees so she could fold up the roll and stash it in the merchant’s private wagon.
She helped the caravan cook to bring out the morning meal as the rest of the caravan staggered over, with hands hiding their yawns, to collect their morning meal. By the time Helios’ chariot came into view, everyone had eaten their food and the wagons were moving again. The merchant invited her to join him on the driver’s seat as he guided his team of oxen along the road. Near the noon hour, they reached the outskirts of Feneos. The merchant called a stop for another meal.
