chapter seven
❛ a green mist ❜

━━━━━  JOSEPHINE WAS PRETTY miserable that night. Truth be told, miserable wasn't a strong enough word for it. Miserable didn't even cover the dread she felt, let alone this heavy feeling in her stomach and the odd tingling beneath the skin of her hands (that hadn't gone away since Medusa tried to turn them all into stone).

              The four of them camped out in the woods that night, all too frightened by the encounter with Medusa to stay inside the gnome emporium. They were stationed a hundred yards from the main road, in a marshy clearing that local kids had obviously been using for parties — the ground was littered with flattened soda cans. fast-food wrappers, and cheap beer cans. They had taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's, but they didn't dare light a fire to dry their damp clothes. The Furies and Medusa had provided enough excitement for one day. They didn't want to attract anything else (and Josephine's heart couldn't take it if they somehow did).

              They — Annabeth, really — decided it was best to sleep in shifts, and Percy volunteered to take first watch. (Surprisingly, Annabeth didn't tell him to take the first watch. But perhaps that had to do with the fact she was still annoyed about the whole What's the harm in a photo, Annabeth? ordeal from earlier ...) Whatever the reason was, Josephine didn't argue with either of them. She curled into her blanket, trying to look for warmth — and it wasn't working. Annabeth, however, seemed to find some — as soon as her head was rested on her arm, she was snoring loudly. Grover fluttered into the air with his flying shoes, landing on the lowest bough of a nearby tree. The satyr put his back against the thick trunk, staring up at the night sky.

              The daughter of Apollo stared up at the night sky, unable to fall asleep. She didn't know if it was the anxiety, the rough ground, or her racing mind — probably a vicious combination of all three was keeping her awake. She looked at all the constellations Mrs. Hall had taught her. When Josephine was still in D.C., Mrs. Hall had been the Pascuals' neighbor in their little community of houses just on the outskirts of the city, and she would often babysit Josephine. For as long as Josephine could remember, Mrs. Hall would be the one who coddled her the way a child needed. Beau wasn't a parent. Not really. Sure, he did what he was legally obligated to as a parent — shelter, clothes, food. (And hardly, even then, as many nights, Josephine was cooking for herself when Mrs. Hall was too busy to do so.) But beyond that, he didn't care. He didn't love Josephine, and that was where the big divide was. He never gave her the love she craved for. He gave her a place to sleep, clothes to put on her back, and food to eat; however, he never gave her attention or any sort of empathy as a person or as his daughter.

              She closed her eyes for a moment, tears pricking in the corners. Josephine didn't want to sleep. She was scared of what was waiting for her when she closed her eyes; when she was her most vulnerable. However, she also didn't want to stay awake, scared of what monsters might be lurking around.

              "Go ahead and sleep," she heard Percy tell Grover, breaking the silence. "I'll wake you up if there's trouble."

              There was silence for a moment, but then, Grover sighed deeply. "It makes me sad, Percy," he admitted.

              Percy was silent for a moment. "... What does?" he finally asked. "The fact you signed up for this stupid quest?"

              Just barely, Josephine cracked her eyes open, her eyes struggling to search through the darkness. Overhead, Grover was gesturing to all the trash below him from his perch. "No." He shook his head at Percy. "This makes me sad. And the sky. You can't even see the stars anymore! They've polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr ..."

              "Oh ... Yeah." Percy's tone was dubious, and Josephine could almost hear the uncertainty in his voice. "I guess you'd be an environmentalist."

              Josephine scowled to herself. She had always loved nature — the fresh air, changing seasons, sunrises, and everything else nature offered. (Except for bugs and snakes; she hated bugs and snakes — especially snakes). When she learned that nature was suffering because of humans, young Josephine was devastated and gutted. Maybe that's why she got along with satyrs so well — she also cared about the environment the way they did.

              Her eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness to see Grover was glaring at Percy. "Only a human wouldn't be," he practically hissed, and Percy's eyes widened in shock. "Your species is clogging up the world so fast —" He stopped himself suddenly, his posture slumping even more. "Never mind. It's useless to lecture a human. At the rate things are going, I'll never find Pan."

              Percy frowned, clearly surprised at Grover's sudden hostility. "Pam?" he asked. "Like ... the cooking spray?"

              "Pan!" the satyr cried indignantly. "P-A-N. The great god Pan! What do you think I want a searcher's license for?"

              Suddenly, an odd breeze rustled through the clearing — the smell of berries, wildflowers, and clean rainwater. It was so strong it even overpowered the man-made stink of trash and muck. The breeze brought reminders of once had been in these woods, but no longer was. Josephine was now nostalgic for something she had never known.

              "Tell me about the search," said Percy suddenly.

              Josephine raised her eyebrows. Not many ever cared enough to ask let alone even listen to the satyrs when they spoke about Pan. Grover was looking at Percy cautiously, as if he were afraid the son of Poseidon was just making fun. "The God of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago," he started, taking a careful breath. "A sailor off the coast of Ephesos heard a mysterious voice crying out from the shore, 'Tell them that the great god Pan has died!' When humans heard the news, they believed it. They've been pillaging Pan's kingdom ever since. But for the satyrs, Pan was our lord and master. He protected us and the wild places of the earth. We refuse to believe that he died. In every generation, the bravest satyrs pledge their lives to finding Pan. They search the earth, exploring all the wildest places, hoping to find where he is hidden and wake him from his sleep."

              "And you want to be a searcher," Percy caught on.

              "It's my life's dream," admitted Grover. "My father was a searcher. And my Uncle Ferdinand ... The statue you saw back there —"

              "Oh, right ... Sorry."

              Percy, Josephine quickly noticed, didn't seem to have the skill at comforting people. She couldn't blame him, neither did she.

              Grover shook his head, his hands fidgeting nervously with the end of his shirt. "Uncle Ferdinand knew the risks. So did my dad — but I'll succeed. I'll be the first searcher to return alive."

              "Wha —" Percy leaned forward, his eyes widening as he looked up at the satyr. "Hang on — the first?"

              No one ever liked talking about it. Even Josephine's dreams didn't like talking about it (and her dreams didn't seem to mind showing anything, just as long as it was in a cryptic manner). But ... that was the reality — no satyr had ever returned once they had set out searching for the lost god Pan. As much as she supported Grover and his determination, she was far more worried about what would happen to him if he was ever finally granted a searcher's license. She didn't want to think of what happened to all those satyrs who were granted a searcher's license; she didn't want to think of what would happen to Grover if he got one and went out looking.

              Grover took the reed pipes out of his pocket. "No searcher has ever come back," he told Percy, his voice laced with much sadness. "Once they set out, they disappear. They're never seen alive again."

              "Not once in two thousand years?"

              "No."

              "And your dad? You have no idea what happened to him?"

              "... None."

              "But you still want to go," Percy said, sounding partially amazed and partially horrified. "I mean — you really think you'll be the one to find Pan?"

              Hope, Josephine quickly learned, was both amazing and horrible. But it was like that with a lot of things — fear, pride, anger, loyalty. She only hoped that hope wasn't holding Grover hostage. He was one of the most passionate satyrs she had ever met and he had a heart of gold; however, both of those things could only take someone so far. Not once in two thousand years had a satyr returned after setting for outside Camp Half-Blood after setting out in search of Pan, God of the Wild.

              "I have to believe that, Percy," insisted Grover, his voice raw. "Every searcher does. It's the only thing that keeps us from despair when we look at what humans have done to the world. I have to believe Pan can still be awakened."

              Josephine looked at the night sky. The moment she learned of the satyrs and their goal of finding Pan, she wondered why. Why would they keep sending out satyrs for something that seemed so hopeless? Especially after thousands of satyrs had died in the process — but the satyrs had hope in Pan, that was what kept them going. She saw how it kept them going; how hope was doing good for them, even if they weren't getting what they wanted. They still had reasons to continue. She tried to adopt the same attitude — always having hope. Perhaps it didn't always work, but it was better than nothing.

              Percy looked uncomfortable with the subject, so he changed it; "So ... how are we going to get into the Underworld? I mean, what chance do we have against a god?"

              "I don't know ..." admitted Grover. "But back at Medusa's, when you were searching her office? Annabeth was telling me and Josephine —"

              Percy scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, I forgot. Annabeth will have a plan all figured out. And Josephine never thought to mention her freaky powers, did she? They would have been real useful against those —"

              Grover frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. "Don't be so hard on them, Percy," he chided the son of Poseidon. "They've both had a tough life, but they're good people. After all, Annabeth forgave me, even Josephine didn't judge ..." His voice faltered, glancing at Percy nervously.

              Josephine winced silently, closing her eyes for a moment. She knew Grover didn't mean to, but still, Annabeth wasn't going to be happy to learn that Grover nearly spilled everything to Percy.

              The son of Poseidon frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Annabeth forgave you for what? Josephine didn't judge?"

              Grover refused to answer, nervously playing out-of-tune notes on his reed pipes.

              "Wait a minute ..." insisted Percy, sitting up to get a better look at the satyr. "Your first keeper job was five years ago. Annabeth has been at Camp for five years. She wasn't — I mean, your first assignment that went wrong —"

              "I can't talk about it." Grover's voice was quivering. Josephine was afraid that if Percy pressed him any further, the satyr would start crying. "But as I was saying, back at Medusa's, Annabeth, Josephine, and I agreed there's something strange going on with this quest. Something isn't what it seems."

              "Well, duh." Percy rolled his eyes, looking miffed at Grover's avoidance of answering. "I'm getting blamed for stealing a thunderbolt that Hades took."

              "That's not what I mean," said Grover. "The Fur — the Kindly Ones were sort of holding back. Like Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy ... Why did she wait so long to try to kill you? Then on the bus, they just weren't as aggressive as they could've been."

              "They seemed plenty aggressive to me."

              Grover shook his head. "They were screeching at us: 'Where is it? Where?'"

              "Asking about me," said Percy.

              Josephine fought the urge to roll her eyes. The Kindly Ones would have worded their questions differently if they were asking about Percy, not something else. Grover also didn't look convinced, saying; "Maybe ... but we got the feeling they weren't talking about a person. They said, 'Where is it?' They seemed to be asking about an object."

              "But ... that doesn't make sense," Percy protested.

              "I know," agreed the satyr, nodding along. "But if we've misunderstood something about this quest, and we only have nine days to find the Master Bolt ..." Grover sounded like he was looking for an answer from Percy, trying to prompt the son of Poseidon into revealing something.

              "I ..." Percy looked self-conscious, his eyebrows knitting together as he glanced down. "I haven't been straight with you," he admitted. "I don't care about the Master Bolt. I agreed to go to the Underworld so I could bring my mother back."

              There was silence for a few moments, then, Grover blew a soft note on his pipes. "I know that, Percy." He didn't sound surprised, and it convinced Josephine that both were telling the truth. "But ... are you sure that's the only reason?"

              "I'm not doing it to help my father," Percy said quickly. His voice was defensive. "He doesn't care about me, and I don't care about him."

              That wasn't true, and Percy was one lousy liar. He did care, even if Poseidon didn't. He cared in the way Josephine did. They wanted to please their parents who showed them no love; no attention. They wanted to prove that they were worthy of attention and praise from their godly parents. It was what all demigod kids wanted, even if they denied it or were completely unaware.

              Grover watched him sadly, laying his reed pipes in his lap gently. "Look, Percy, I'm not as smart as Annabeth, I'm not as compassionate as Josephine, and I'm not as brave as you — but I'm pretty good at reading emotions. You're glad your dad is alive. You feel good that he's claimed you, and part of you wants to make him proud. That's why you mailed Medusa's head to Olympus. You wanted him to notice what you'd done."

              Percy was silent for a moment, leaning back against a tree trunk. He had his arms crossed defiantly crossed over his chest. "Yeah? Well, maybe satyrs' emotions work differently than human emotions. Because you're wrong. I don't care what he thinks."

              (Percy was a really, really bad liar.)

              Grover watched him for a few seconds more. Then, he sighed, saying; "Okay, Percy. Whatever."

              However, Percy wasn't done. "Besides, I haven't done anything worth bragging about. We barely got out of New York and we're stuck here — no money and no way west."

              "How about I take first watch, huh? You get some sleep, Percy," advised Grover. He didn't give Percy a moment longer, starting to play Mozart — soft and sweet. Slowly, Josephine could feel sleep falling over her. After a few measures of Piano Concerto No. 12, she was asleep.

✿

Josephine woke just as the sun was rising. The word Trickery rang in her mind, different from the cruel voice who taunted her and the voice who told her she would fall. She shook the word away, taking watch and relieving Annabeth, who went back to sleep soon (and snoring away). For the next hour and a half, she stayed awake. She listened to the birds, the distant sound of cars rumbling down streets, and the thoughts churning around in her head.

              She felt guilty for imposing on Percy and Grover's conversation, but she couldn't fall asleep, especially not with them talking in what would otherwise be dead silence. She felt even worse for eavesdropping on what Percy told Grover — the real reason he was going on this quest. She already knew of Grover's desires to gain a searcher's license, and she knew of how Annabeth arrived at Camp, and she figured there was a real reason why Percy was leading this quest (beyond being forced to, unless he wanted to be struck dead by Zeus). There was no way a kid who had been at Camp for two weeks would agree to a quest to take back Zeus's stolen Master Bolt (that is over in the Underworld, mind you), and then give it back to Zeus — all on top of being a son of Poseidon, no less.

              Hades was the reason Percy lost his mother. The God of the Dead sent the Minotaur after him, the monster that made Percy lose his mom. It made sense he wanted to get her back. Josephine understood — she would give anything to be back in Mrs. Hall's comforting arms, sipping hot chocolate as Mrs. Hall told her stories of her youth as she studied abroad in Europe for her literary degree. If there was any chance of having that again, Josephine would go to the ends of the earth to do it; however, she knew she had run out of time. But Percy hasn't yet. Not yet, at least.

              Grover was the first person to wake up after Josephine. He shifted in his sleep, nearly falling out of the tree limb. He scared himself awake and was unable to fall back asleep. Eventually, he fluttered down next to Josephine and crossed the winged shoes underneath him, whispering; "Maia."

              He was silent for a few moments, fiddling with his reed pipes. "Sorry," he broke the silence, glancing at Josephine.

              She frowned at him, confusion written across her face. "For what?"

              "For what Percy said about your powers."

              "Oh." She shifted, redraping the blanket she had taken from Medusa's over her legs. She didn't know what to say. Sure, she had felt burning beneath her skin; Annabeth said this "green mist" came from her hands; then, Medusa ended up with a cough and boils on her face. But ... what even was it? The green mist, boils, and coughing? "I mean ... I dunno if they're even my powers."

              Grover pursed his lips, silent for a moment. "I think they are," he admitted. "Annabeth said you raised your hands in front of your face and this ... green mist thing-y came out and surrounded Aunty Em."

              Josephine frowned. "I ..." She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Can you even call that powers? I mean — that green mist thing-y gave her boils and a cough? What kind of power does that?"

              "A power that got us out of Aunty Em's place alive," Grover offered.

              She shook her head. "That was all Percy."

              "We should figure out more about them before we say that it was all Percy," Grover advised, leaning against the tree behind him. "You helped. If that green mist hadn't given Medu — Aunty Em a cough and boils, she probably would've turned us to stone before Annabeth could even come up with a plan."

              Josephine watched Grover for a long moment. She forgot just long enough — satyrs could read emotions. There was no way he couldn't have noticed her sullen mood. He was trying to help her, trying to say nice things about such a scary "power" to lift her mood. However, instead of taking the compliment, she frowned stubbornly and insisted; "I'm pretty sure it was all Percy and Annabeth." She followed the satyr's lead and leaned against a tree trunk behind her. "You knew I wasn't asleep?"

              "Yeah," said Grover. "Lee says you fidget a lot in your sleep. You were too still."

              The daughter of Apollo flushed pink. "Why would he tell you that?"

              He shrugged, embarrassment creeping across his face as he realized how weird it all sounded. "We got on the topic of sleeping habits, is all. I mentioned that Annabeth snores really loud and Lee said that you fidget a lot. S'not as weird as it sounds, I swear."

              Josephine wasn't sure if she could believe that. However, her eyes trailed over to Annabeth's sleeping form. The daughter of Athena had a line of drool trailing down her chin, and she was snoring loudly, even over the sound of birds chirping happily. "She does, doesn't she ...?"

              Grover was starting to smile; however, quickly, the smile dropped. "You really don't blame —?"

              "No!" Josephine shook her head. "Not at all. And neither does Annabeth. Nor Luke."

              She knew that Annabeth, Luke, and Thalia had been Grover's failed attempt at a rescue years ago. And Grover knew that she knew of his failed mission. However, where their understandings of shared information differed was how Josephine knew. Grover always assumed that Annabeth had spilled everything to her at some point, but that wasn't how it happened. Dreams were nasty things — showing her the worst things the Greek world and myths had to offer. But that never changed the way Josephine saw Grover. Gods know how she would have reacted under all that pressure. Based on what happened in Aunty Em's, she would've given everyone a serious cough and nasty boils before ever saving anyone.

              Silence fell over the two. Josephine could hear Annabeth snoring and Percy mumbling in his sleep. She rubbed at her eyes, dragging them slowly down her face. "You called me compassionate." She broke the silence first. "... Do you really think that?"

              Grover was staring at Josephine's hands, as if he expected her hand to burst into that green mist. She tucked them under the stolen blanket. The satyr flushed, knowing he had been caught. "I think so." He nodded. "You always listen to people, and you always act like you care. Even to people like Clarisse. You even care about nature. It takes a lot to be a compassionate person."

              She stared at him, an odd mix of embarrassment, being seen, and feeling understood rushing over her. Josephine had always tried to go out of her way to listen — it was the least she could do. Everyone deserved it, and she knew what it felt like to be completely discarded by someone, especially by someone you cared for and wanted to care for you. No one deserved to feel that way, either. She tried to listen when people spoke, especially when they spoke about their vulnerabilities. She understood talking, let alone talking about things you were insecure about, was incredibly hard.

              She gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Thanks, Grover." She tried not to let her voice waver. "That means a lot."

              He nodded, smiling back. "That's why people like talking to you. You listen and you remember. It means a lot to people."

              She didn't know what to say. She tried because that was the right thing to do; because no one should ever feel ignored; because she didn't want to treat someone the way Beau had treated her. She remembered because she tried. It was a horrible feeling, thinking that no one ever cared enough to remember, so even if she didn't care all too much, she still tried.

              "I dunno ..." Her sentence trailed off before it had even really begun. "I guess I try because ... it sucks when people don't care. Or when they don't remember the things you're good at — or even bad at. When I first came to Camp, it sucked having people constantly ask about the things I was bad at — archery, healing, poetry, even."

              Grover was silent for a moment, his eyebrows knitting as he thought. "I think you put yourself down too much," he finally declared. "No one really notices those things as much as you. But people notice how good you are with daggers and swords! You're good at hand-to-hand combat. That counts for something. That's why Cabin Five and Cabin Six like training with you."

              "But I'm horrible with a bow and horrible at healing," added Josephine, counting the two things off with her fingers. "What kind of daughter of Apollo am I if I can't even shoot a bow?"

              "I think you're a pretty amazing one," admitted Grover.

              Their conversation ended there — Josephine frowning at Grover as he tried to make her feel better. Before she could come up with a reply, Annabeth woke up. The blonde sat up, the blanket covering her body falling into her lap in a heap. She brushed her hair out of her face, blinking at the two. "How long have you two been up?" she asked, her voice groggy.

              "Since the sun started to rise," mumbled Josephine, waving her hand lazily at the sky.

              The daughter of Athena grinned slightly. "I've always heard Cabin Seven fall and rise with the sun."

              She then looked to Grover, and the satyr shrugged. "I dunno long," he admitted. "Maybe ... forty minutes?"

              "Well," said Annabeth, shoving the blanket off her lap and standing up, "we should probably get moving."

              Grover stood up, too. "I'm gonna go looking for anything to help us."

              "Do you want me to go with you?" Josephine asked him. "Safety in numbers and all."

              "I'll be fine," he assured. (However, Josephine didn't fail to hear his small, 'I think.')

              She tasked herself with helping Annabeth clean up their mess from the short-notice camping. The two folded up blankets, dusting the dirt off of them, and tried dusting the dirt off themselves. Annabeth tossed Josephine a bag of chips, saying with false cheeriness; "Breakfast."

              Josephine raised her eyebrows, opening the bag with a smile. "I've always wanted" — she glanced down at the bag — "barbeque chips for breakfast." She ate the bag of chips quickly, tilting the plastic bag upside down to get the crumbs from the bottom.

              Percy was still asleep, though he was muttering quietly, even shaking slightly. Josephine could see, just barely, that his eyes darting back and forth from underneath his eyelids, as if he were on high alert.

              When Grover came back, he came back with a "friend." A small pink poodle, even named Gladiola. The satyr held out the dog to Annabeth and Josephine, and it growled at them. "They're nice people, Gladiola," he promised. He looked up at the two girls. "You have to say hello."

              Josephine glanced at Annabeth, and the daughter of Athena watched with apprehension. "Um ... hello, Gladiola. I — uh — really like your pink fur."

              Annabeth gave the daughter of Apollo an irritated — furrowed brows and a curled top lip. "That was an unnecessary compliment ..." she whispered to Josephine. However, she stood up straight again and looked at the pink poodle. Through a gritted smile, she greeted; "Hello, Gladiola."

              The daughter of Apollo shrugged, saying to herself; "He growled at me, what else was I supposed to do? Growl back?"

              After their greetings, Gladiola didn't seem so wary of Josephine and Annabeth. However, the poodle still very much preferred Grover's company compared to them. Not that Josephine was complaining. The dog looked too worse for wear to her. However, she had been tasked with waking up Percy. They needed to move on and head west; but Grover was too busy with Gladiola and Annabeth was looking for more chip bags, leaving only Josephine left for the job. She grabbed Percy by the shoulder, shaking him gently. His eyes snapped open, but he squinted as the sun was beating down on them.

              "Well," said Annabeth, standing up straight as she grinned slightly, "the zombie lives!"

              Josephine shook her head. "You're the last one to wake up," she told the son of Poseidon.

              Percy seemed to be trembling. Whatever he was dreaming, it must have really scared him. "How long was I asleep?"

              "Long enough for me to cook breakfast." The daughter of Athena tossed him a bag of nacho-flavored corn chips from Aunty Em's snack bar. However, still groggy with sleep, Percy couldn't catch — the chips bounced off his forehead and fell into his lap. "And Grover went exploring. Look, he found a friend."

              Josephine grimaced, trying to hide the reaction. "He's really only Grover's friend ..."

              Percy blinked owlishly, grabbing the chip bag from his lap. He looked at Grover — the satyr was was sitting crossed-legged on one of the last blankets left, and Gladiola was curled up in his lap. Grover was petting the poodle slowly.

              Suddenly, the poodle yapped at Percy suspiciously. Grover protested; "No, he's not!"

              Percy's brows furrowed. "Are you ... talking to that thing?"

              The poodle growled.

              "This thing," Grover warned, giving Percy a stern look, "is our ticket west. Be nice to him."

              "You can talk to animals?"

              The satyr ignored the question, picking the poodle up by the chest and holding him out to the son of Poseidon. "Percy, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy."

              Percy looked at Josephine, who stood beside him. He looked half-expected to see her burst out laughing, however, she didn't. She gave Percy a very serious look, and he raised his eyebrows in response. When she didn't laugh, Percy leaned closer to whisper; "He's being serious ...?"

              Josephine nodded to him.

              Percy straightened, giving Grover and the poodle a confused look. "I'm not saying hello to a pink poodle," he protested suddenly, rapidly shaking his head. "Forget it."

              "Percy," started Josephine, frowning at him. "You just have to say hi. I said hello to Gladiola, and so did Annabeth."

              The poodle growled again, baring its teeth.

              And that settled it: Percy said hello to the pink poodle.

              Once the introductions were over, Grover explained how he had come across Gladiola — in the woods and they struck up a conversation. Apparently, the poodle had run away from a rich local family, and that family had posted a $200 reward for his return. Gladiola didn't really want to go back to his family, but he was willing to if it meant helping Grover.

              "How does Gladiola know about the reward?" Percy asked.

              "He read the signs," said Grover. "Duh."

              "... Of course." Percy's tone was sarcastic. "Silly me."

              "So we turn in Gladiola," Annabeth explained in her best strategy voice. "We get the money and we buy tickets to Los Angeles. Simple."

              "Simple," Josephine repeated warily.

              "Not another bus," Percy groaned.

              "No, not another bus, but it is simple," insisted Annabeth. She pointed downhill, towards train tracks that Josephine hadn't been able to see in the dark. "There's an Amtrak station half a mile that way. According to Gladiola, the westbound train leaves at noon."

              Josephine looked up at the sky, she squinted at the blazing sun. "We don't have very long, then."

              Percy looked at her oddly. "What? You can tell the time of day because of your dad being the God of the Sun? You have some sun powers, too?"

              She scowled, dropping her head back down. "No," she quipped, glaring at him. "The sun rises in the east, sets in the west. And the sun is above us at noon. And, look, it's above us. Like Annabeth said — simple."

              "Right, of course." The son of Poseidon rolled his eyes dramatically. "Silly me."

✿  JUN. 22ND, 2023 / i don't have much to say this time idk- i love grover

he slays and solos everyone

he should've been involved in HoO

and i'm correct about all of that

also this chapter is shorter compared to the others ones,, but it is important (to some degree, it has foreshadowing) but is also a bit of a filler chapter

but grover underwood solos !!

anyways,, thoughts? opinions??

EDITED / nov. 4th, 2024

a normal-sized chapter for once?? from me?? insane actually LMAO

don't expect it again <3