The Birth of the Gods. Tutankhamen in Crete

“...Yes, a talisman saved me from everything,” he said again. “From fire, from poison, from the beast; but it didn’t save me from one thing…” “From what?” she asked. He didn’t answer, and she understood: “From you.” Both of them were wrapped in animal hides: he—in a reddish lion skin with the beast’s mouth on his head instead of a helmet; she—in gray wolf skin with a chevron helmet. Both held hunting spears in their hands, bows and quivers on their backs. It was hard to tell who was a man and who was a woman. Taking off the lion’s mouth from his head, he brought his hand to his neck.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“Not very. What kind of wound is this—a scratch! I used to go hunting with one club as a shepherd in Halihalbate. Only once a lioness that had just given birth went up; the claw marks are still on my back. Well, then I was stronger, younger…”