twelve. how to mend a broken . . . wrist

     THEY WALKED FOR ABOUT AN HOUR. Maribelle, for once, was glad she wore tennis shoes rather than her usual expensive pair of platforms. They would've been ruined in this terrain. She keeps an eye on her wrist, it was throbbing and turning a deep purple color.

It was about midnight when the sun finally set and it grew cold in the woods. The stars were so thick, Maribelle almost wanted to stop and point out all the constellations she could recognize. She was really good at that kind of thing. Then the northern lights appear.

"That's amazing," Frank comments.

"Bears," Hazel points ahead. There were a few brown bears lumbering in the meadow a few hundred feet away, their coats gleaming in the starlight.

Maribelle watches them in awe.

"They won't bother us," Hazel promises, "Just give them a wide berth."

A land beyond the gods. For a moment, Maribelle thought of the harsh wilderness, there were no rules here, no destinies or prophecies. No gods begging them to do their bidding. This was what Gaea wanted, and for a moment Maribelle didn't see how that could be such a bad thing. But, she quickly pushes the thought aside, feeling sick for thinking it. The last time she'd been encouraged to believe something like that—Maribelle shakes her head as if to rid herself of the thoughts. Gaea wasn't a gentle goddess. She was vengeful and violent.

After another couple of hours, they finally come across a tiny village between the railroad tracks and a two-lane road.

They pass a couple of houses, a post office, and some trailers. Everything was dark and closed up. On the other end of town was a store with a picnic table and an old rusted petrol pump in front.

The store had a hand-painted sign that read: MOOSE PASS GAS.

"That's just wrong," Frank says.

They all collapse around the picnic table.

Maribelle shrugs off her backpack as carefully as possible to not bother her wrist. She needed ambrosia. Hazel puts her head in her hands and passes out, snoring. Frank takes out his last sodas and some granola bars from the train ride and shares them with Percy, Maribelle refused.

"What happened?" Percy asks as he chews his granola.

Maribelle shrugs and continues to try and unzip her backpack with one hand, "When the gryphons got me. Fell."

"That long?" Frank splutters, he was looking at her wrist and appeared slightly nauseous, "Why didn't you say anything?!"

"We were kinda being attacked," Maribelle replies and Percy takes the backpack from her, unzipping it easily.

"Where's your ambrosia?" Percy asks.

"At the bottom," Maribelle answers. She gasps as he goes to stick his hands in the backpack, "Dust your fingers off first! I have very delicate items of clothing and shoes in there!"

Percy stares as if he doesn't quite believe her, but then slowly wipes his hands with a napkin. She nods and Percy digs through her pack. He pulls out a small square of ambrosia and hands it to her. Maribelle eats it greedily, warmth spreading over her and the throbbing turning to a dull ache. Percy gently begins wrapping her arm with a scarf—despite her argument that that scarf was not for medical purposes—creating a sling.

When he was done, Maribelle leans her head against Percy's shoulder and closes her eyes. But, despite her exhaustion, she couldn't sleep. She was too hyper-focused on the dull ache of her wrist.

"Did you mean what you said earlier?" She hears Frank whisper.

"About what?" Percy asks.

"About . . . being proud that we're related."

"Well, let's see. You single-handedly took out three basilisks while I was sipping green tea and wheat germ. You held off an army of Laistrygonians so that our plane could take off in Vancouver. You saved my life and Maribelle's life by shooting down those gryphons. And you gave up the last charge on your magic spear to help some defenseless mortals. You are, hands down, the nicest child of the war god I've ever met . . . maybe the only nice one. So what do you think?"

Frank stares up at the northern lights, "It's just . . . I was supposed to be in charge of this quest, the centurion, and all. I feel like you guys have had to carry me."

"Not true," Percy shakes his head.

"I'm supposed to have these powers I haven't figured out how to use," Frank adds bitterly, "Now I don't have a spear, and I'm almost out of arrows. And . . . I'm scared."

"I'd be worried if you weren't scared," Percy answers, "We're all scared."

"But the Feast of Fortuna is . . . it's after midnight, isn't it? That means it's June twenty-fourth now. The feast starts tonight at sundown. We have to find our way to Hubbard Glacier, defeat a giant who is undefeatable in his home territory, and get back to Camp Jupiter before they're overrun—all in less than eighteen hours."

"And when we free Thanatos," Percy says, "He might claim your life. And Hazel's. Believe me, I've been thinking about it."

"She's my best friend," Frank says, "I lost my mom, my grandmother . . . I can't lose her, too."

"I'm not going to lose either of you," He promises, "Belle and I are not going to let that happen. And, Frank, you are a leader. Hazel and Belle would say the same thing. We need you."

"Another inspiring speech from Jackson," Percy mumbles to himself and he shifts a little, Maribelle falling a little further down his arm. And then she hears him snoring too.

     At dawn, the store opens for business. The owner was a little surprised to find three teenagers crashed out on his picnic table. Percy explains that they had stumbled away from last night's train wreck, so the guy felt sorry for them and treated them to breakfast. Soon, they were rumbling along the road in a beat-up Ford pickup.

Maribelle sat squished between Hazel and Frank. Percy was sitting up front with the old man who smelled like smoked salmon.

The truck breaks down a few miles outside Seward. The driver didn't seem surprised, he said they could wait for him to fix the engine, but since Seward was only a few miles away, they decided to walk it.

By midmorning, they had climbed over a rise in the road and saw a small bay ringed with mountains.

"Seward," Hazel says.

Percy steps off the road, "Come on."

"Percy, no!" Hazel shouts, making Maribelle freeze in place.

Percy's next step went straight through the ground. He sank like a stone until the earth closed over his head, and the earth swallowed him.

"Your bow!" Hazel shouts.

Frank slips the bow off his shoulder.

"Hold one end," She tells Frank, "Don't let go."

She grabs the other end, takes a deep breath, and jumps into the bog. The earth closes over her head.

Maribelle's heart was racing, wishing she could be of more help but with her still achy wrist she could barely help Frank hold the bow.

"Don't you think she's taking too long?" Maribelle panics, "Maybe I should—"

"No!" Frank protests, "She's fine. They're fine." She wonders if Frank was just trying to not panic as if to soothe her nerves. 

A few more tense moments pass and finally the end of the bow frantically wiggles. Frank tugs hard on the bow, pulling them both up. He was mumbling "oh, gods," over and over.

Her and Percy both fall into the grass. Percy immediately coughs and begins spitting mud.

"Oh, gods! Oh, gods! Oh, gods!" Frank was busy yelling.

He yanks some extra clothes from his bag and Maribelle began to towel off Hazel's face. Frank drags Percy farther from the muskeg.

"You were down there so long!" Frank cries, "We didn't think—oh, gods, don't ever do something like that again!"

He wraps Hazel in a bear hug.

"Can't—breathe," Hazel chokes.

"Sorry!" Frank goes back fussing over them while Maribelle towels their faces.

Finally, they got them to the side of the road, where they sat and shivered and spit up mud clods.

"You—you saved me, Hazel. We'll figure out what happened to Nico, I promise," Percy shivers.

"Does it seem like Gaea let us go too easily?"

Percy plucks a mud clod from his hair, "Maybe she still wants us as pawns. Maybe she was just saying things to mess with your mind."

"She knew what to say," Hazel agrees, "She knew how to get to me."

Frank places his jacket around her shoulders, "This is a real life. You know that, right? We're not going to let you die again."

"We should get going. We're losing time," Hazel tells them.

"Any hotels or something where we could clean off? I mean . . . hotels that accept mud people?"

"I'm not sure," Hazel admits, then she says, "I might know a place we can freshen up."

Hazel led them into town and along Third Avenue. The railroad station was still there. For a moment they contemplate stopping at the large hotel, but Hazel finally makes the decision that it would be a bad idea. So, instead, they turn towards the shoreline.

"Come on," Hazel says, leading them towards a place where door was boarded-up.

"Uh, you sure it's safe?" Frank asks.

Hazel doesn't answer as she finds an open window and climbs. inside. They follow.

"It's warmer in here, at least," Maribelle shrugs, "Guess no running water? Maybe I can go shopping, I could find us some clothes. Oo, do we want to match or should —"

She realizes nobody was listening.

Hazel climbs over a stack of boxes in the corner. Maribelle reads an old sign that was propped against the wall: GOLD PROSPECTING SUPPLIES. Hazel was staring at some photographs on the wall.

Frank's fingers hover over the photo, "Who . . . sorry, Hazel. This must be really hard. Do you want some time?"

"No," Hazel croaks, "No, it's fine."

Maribelle can feel that Hazel really wasn't fine, but she doesn't say anything.

"Is that your mother?" Percy points to a photo, "She looks like you. She's beautiful. Who is that?" He then points to a photo of a boy.

"That's . . . that's Sammy. He was my—uh—friend from New Orleans."

"I've seen him before," Percy says.

"You couldn't have," Hazel replies, "That was in 1941. He's . . . he's probably dead now."

Percy frowns, "I guess. Still . . ."

Frank clears his throat, "Look, we passed a store on the last block. We've got a little money left. Maybe Maribelle and I should go get you guys some food and clothes and —I don't know—a hundred boxes of wet wipes or something?"

"That would be great," Hazel answers, ""You're the best, Frank."

"Well . . . we're the only ones not completely covered in mud, anyway. Be back soon."

     Maribelle had taken it upon herself to hold onto his arm as they wondered through the little town. She was glad Frank hadn't protested. Children of Venus weren't known to handle rejection very well.

They find a hunting store not too far off from where they were staying. Frank holds open the door for her and Maribelle grins as she enters the establishment. Frank follows behind her. She briefly wonders if he would offer his arm again, or maybe his hand, but pushes the thoughts away. There was no time for this. She follows after Frank like a lost puppy as he grabs all the supplies they need.

For a moment, as they're leaving, she's thrown back in time to the Titan War. When her and Gabe had been doing almost the same thing; gathering weapons and supplies. She'd used her charmspeak to steal the majority of it, but her charmspeak wasn't as powerful as others so they barely got away with it. That had made Gabe angry and he'd yelled at her for it.

Maribelle blinks tears from her eyes, he hadn't used to be like that. He'd always been gentle with her.

Frank wasn't like him, she reminded herself as the boy pays for the supplies. He was one of the good guys.

That's what she had thought about Gabe too.

"Mari?" Frank says and that only sends her into a further spiral.

Mari. Mari was what Gabe had called her, and only Gabe. To everyone else she was just Belle. But to him, she was special, he was special—

"Fine," Maribelle forces out, she smiles up at him, "Fine. Ready to go?"

Frank nods and together, they leave.

"Are you sure?" Frank asks, stopping her before she can continue on down the street.

"Yeah," Maribelle nods, "Honest. I was just thinking—got lost for a second. But I'm okay."

"Come on, we can look for clothes next. I'll let you pick them out," Frank grins down at her and Maribelle can't help but smile back.

"Yay!" She grins and leads the way to a small tourist shop across the street.

Frank follows her around this time, holding the bags from the hunting store and the clothes she set aside to pick through later. He dutifully carried them all and not once protested.

"Okay," Maribelle orders him to lay them out on a table so she can observe each of the Alaska souvenir long sleeve shirts. She taps her chin, pointing at the red shirts to be taken out. Frank quickly removes them. "Which ones do you like Frank?" She asks him curiously.

"Me?"

"Is anyone else here?" She asks.

Frank looks over at the shirts.

"They're all a bit ugly," Maribelle tells him, "But I suppose it's the best we can do."

Frank laughs at that, "I think the one with the bear."

Maribelle nods thoughtfully, looking over all of them again, "Alright, even though they're grey . . . let's get them."

Frank puts the other shirts away as she grabs hold of the matching t-shirts, they look for pants. Maribelle scoffs as Frank points out sweatpants, "You will never catch me in those."

Frank rolls his eyes, "It's all they have, Mari. Hazel and Percy won't care, me either."

Maribelle's breath hitches at the nickname. She reminds herself that Frank isn't Gabe. She quickly pushes the unwanted thought away.

Maribelle looks at her own skirt, then thinks of the other skirt tucked away in her pack. Both were dirty, covered in mud and grass . . . she looks at the sweatpants and sighs deeply. "Okay."

Frank grabs four pairs of the sweatpants and then they maneuver around to find soap, bottled water and wet wipes.

The walk back to the abandoned house was quiet. Maribelle was lost in her own head thinking of Gabe. She glances at Frank who was taking in the scenery around him, not noticing the turmoil within Maribelle's own head.

She grabs his arm before they can crawl back through the window. "Frank."

"Hm?" He asks.

Maribelle freezes as he looks down at her. Her heart races rapidly, "Um . . . I just wanted to say sorry about your grandmother. And your mom. I know you're scared about losing Hazel, but I won't let anything happen to her."

Frank blinks, and he doesn't say anything for a long while. Maribelle grows nervous and she drops her hand from his arm. "I—thanks, Mari."

That name again.

He continues, "You know, It's not just Hazel I'm scared of losing. I mean, I'm scared of losing you too. When the gryphons, when they grabbed hold of you, I just—I felt, well, I was scared. And I just went into auto-pilot. I would've done anything to save you. I will do anything to save you."

Maribelle's face feels warm despite the coldness around them and her heart seems to be pounding so loud she's surprised he can't hear it. She looks at the string connecting them.

Maribelle stands on her tippy-toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. Frank splutters and Maribelle smirks at the red growing up from his neck and spreading over his face.

She crawls through the window.

"Success!" Frank says as he recovers and climbs through the window as well. He shows off their prizes to Percy and Hazel.

The new quiver of arrows for himself, some rations, and a coil of rope. "For the next time we run across muskeg," Frank explains.

Maribelle proudly shows off the four sets of fresh (and matching) clothes ("the shirts have bears on them!"), some towels, some soap, some bottled water, and a huge box of wet wipes.

Hazel was the first to duck behind a wall of greeting card boxes to clean up and change.

Maribelle digs for the thread and needle she'd begged the lady at the tourist shop to spare her. She shrugs off her coat and begins sewing a new pocket on the inside for Frank's lifeline.

"So," Hazel says as she comes from behind the wall, Percy goes next, "Now we find a boat to Hubbard Glacier."

Frank pats his stomach, "If we're going to battle to the death, I want lunch first. I found the perfect place."

Maribelle was not a fan of the sweatpants, they showed off none of her good assets and she knew her mother was cringing in embarrassment. She'd cropped her shirt, but it did nothing to improve her outfit, especially with her heavy jacket hanging over top. Maribelle ran her fingers through her hair, leaving it down, hoping that might make up for it.

When she was finally satisfied with her appearance, Frank leads them to a little shopping plaza.

While Maribelle, Frank, and Percy order food, Hazel wanders down to the docks.

They take a seat and Percy and Frank immediately begin chowing down on their cheeseburgers. Hazel comes back not much later.

"We're in trouble," Hazel tells them, "I tried to get a boat. But . . . I miscalculated."

"No boats?" Frank asks.

"Oh, I can get a boat," Hazel says, "But the glacier is farther than I thought. Even at top speed, we couldn't get there until tomorrow morning."

Percy turns pale, "Maybe I could make the boat go faster?"

"Even if you could," Hazel says, "From what the captains tell me, it's treacherous—icebergs, mazes of channels to navigate. You'd have to know where you were going."

"A plane?" Maribelle asks.

Hazel shakes her head, "I asked the boat captains about that. They said we could try, but it's a tiny airfield. You have to charter a plane two, three weeks in advance."

They ate in silence after that. Maribelle takes her cheesburger off the bun, cutting tiny bites of the patty and cheese. She ignores the way Frank was watching her eat.

Suddenly, a raven that had been cawing above them, turned to a strangled yelp. Frank moves so fast that he almost topples the picnic table. Percy draws his sword while Maribelle holds her knives in one hand. (Stupid wrist).

Perched on top of the pole where the raven had been, a fat ugly gryphon glared down at them. It burps, and raven feathers flutter from its beak.

Hazel unsheathes her spatha. Frank nocks an arrow. He takes aim, but the gryphon shrieks so loudly the sound echoed off the mountains. Frank flinches, and his shot went wide.

"I think that's a call for help," Percy warns, "We have to get out of here."

With no plan, they ran for the docks. The gryphon dove after them. Percy slashes at it with his sword, but it was no use.

The gryphon swoops after them, its front claws extended for the kill. Hazel raises her sword, but an icy wall of water slammed sideways into the gryphon and washes it into the bay. The gryphon squawks and flaps its wings. It manages to scramble onto the pier.

Frank grunts, "Nice one, Percy."

"Yeah," He says, "Didn't know if I could still do that in Alaska. But bad news—look over there."

About a mile away, a black cloud was swirling—a whole flock of gryphons was coming their way.

Frank nocks another arrow, "Not going down without a fight."

Percy raises Riptide, "I'm with you."

Maribelle sighs heavily but holds up the two knives in one hand, "I guess."

"Arion! Over here!" Hazel suddenly shouts.

A tan blur came ripping down the street and onto the pier. The stallion materializes right behind the gryphon, brings down his front hooves, and smashes the monster to dust.

"Good horse! Really good horse!" Hazel praises.

"How?"

"He followed me!" Hazel beams, "Because he's the best horse ever! Now, get on!"

"All four of us?" Percy says, "Can he handle it?"

Arion whinnies indignantly.

"All right, no need to be rude," Percy says, "Let's go."

They climb on, Hazel in front, Maribelle, Frank and Percy balancing precariously behind her. Frank wraps his arms around her waist, and Maribelle fights back to comment on it.

"Run, Arion!" Hazel cries, "To Hubbard Glacier!"

The horse shoots across the water, his hooves turning the top of the sea to steam.

—