Say what you will about civilization - the convenience, the excitement - sometimes the old ways were better. Sometimes what Dionysus needed was the sheer vitality of the deep, deep woods.
Upstate New York was a world apart from its capital city. Many mortals made the trek back to nature now that weather was warmer. Dionysus went with them, hitchhiking, somehow always attracting a ride. He didn't really need to take the slow way, but it was far more fun; even the most paranoid drivers found themselves slamming on brakes to pick him up, often without knowing why they'd done so.
By the time he made it to the most popular campgrounds he was rip-roaringly drunk - as was everyone else in the car with him. In short order whole campsites fell to his expansive tastes. They were here to lose themselves, were they not? Connect with nature? His was the most natural state there was. People leapt naked into the lake and built enormous bonfires. He taught a few of the women how to hunt prey. Sometimes, they even managed to make it back to camp and those bonfires before devouring all the meat.
He wasn't even there a full 24 hours before the first drowning. Some were purposeful, of course. Dionysus enjoyed the women's company far more than he did that of arrogant men, and if a few husbands or brothers managed to come to their senses long enough to protest their women's newfound freedom, well, it was no great loss. Some were accidental. Such happened amongst an orgy of drugs, alcohol, and madness.
But a fair few were unaccounted for. Corpses bumped gently at the shore, their tongues and throats swollen, faces black with poison. Some other creature was feasting alongside him. After three days, Dionysus had a rough idea of what it was.
He was not bothered. He understood how difficult it was for those beings of the old world to exist now, to feed themselves, when so much about society had changed. No longer did villagers make the daily trek down to their local water; no longer did they scrub laundry in the rivers, daily fish from their shores, or make love on the riverside on dark summer nights. At least in America, the predators often went hungry. It was the least he could do to help this one out.
At one point two park rangers pulled up. It was no trouble for the women, with all they'd learned of bushcraft, to rip the men apart with their bare hands.
On the fifth day, serious dehydration was beginning to set in. The charges on phones and laptops had long since run out, batteries had been drained, and there was no more audible music. Mortals wilted on the lakeshore or sluggishly moved their limbs to the beat Dionysus supplied in their heads. The god himself strolled through camp, hair wild and smile wilder. It had been a lovely vacation from the city. He felt vital, refreshed, and free.
He wandered down to the lake, spent some time walking its borders. At last, plenty far from the campsite, he knelt on the sandy edge. He leaned down and touched the water with two fingers, peering deep into its glassy surface. "You're welcome, cousin," Dionysus said. He was smiling. ♥