Kirke's home neighbored that of Damon and Atalanta's, sitting slightly higher up the hillside, within a hearty shout's distance. She was a woman approaching the waning years of her life, but her fiery spirit warded off signs of age in her character. Though she constantly sided with Atalanta during agruments, frequently to his expense, Damon held Kirke in the highest regard. She was the most respected woman in the community, maintaining a homestead on her own with her husband several years passed and all but one son lost to the sea. She also sustained Atalanta with companionship and protection through Damon's continuous absences. For this he could think little wrong of her.

As Damon approached Kirke's home he could heard the shouts of a child within. Closer still he became aware of the shrieks and cackles of a woman. Opening the door and stepping inside, Damon found his son Celix prostrated on the floor aside a broken stick. Over him stood the stout, burly figure of Kirke pointing a stick of her own at his chest.

"Lucky boy. Be warned, your father won't save you next time," growled Kirke, but Celix had already removed himself from the floor and was bounding toward his father, whose arms were open to receive him.

Celix was six years of age and left no doubt that he was his father's son, which Celix was undeniably proud when told this fact. Atalanta once told Damon that one of the few joys in his voyages was that she was left alone to raise the child as she saw fit. Yet Celix idolized his father and overturned his mother's intructions at the sight of Damon. Try as Atalanta might she could not break their bond.

"Pleasant voyage Damon?" asked Kirke.

"A regular cruise, as always," smiled Damon. Celix's hug had turned into a tight, forceful squeeze. Can't wait to be a tough man like his father, thought Damon. "Atalanta mentioned you would join us this evening. Might I ask you bring a good mood with you?"

Kirke laughed; she had a deep, booming chuckle. "If you two didn't fight so much, then I'd be concerned. But tonight, I think I can give you a break."

"I'd appreciate it Kirke, now allow me to get this little rascal off your hands!" shouted Damon as he flung Celix upwards with his hands, then catching the laughing youth as he fell downwards. Damon was moving down Kirke's walk when she stopped him from the door.

"Damon. Was there word of Haimon's ship when you were in the village?" Damon sensed there was some stress in her voice.

"I did not stop in town, only passed through. I had not expected him for another day or so?"

"I thought he might return early, perhaps," Kirke replied, and she withdrew behind the door.