pocket full of posies
❛ xi. carnivorous sheep ❜

━━━━━ YOU WOULD THINK Posie would be accustomed to things inhabited by monsters to look sort of ... appealing. It happened with Circe's Island, it happened last summer with Medusa, and now ...

              This didn't look like a Cyclops's island at all. No craggy rocks or bones were scattered around—unlike the island of the Sirens. There were no dried pools of blood, no skeletons of past heroes who had been washed up and killed by the monster, there weren't even any ugly mansions to suggest where the Cyclops could be hiding.

              Okay, sure, there was a rope bridge across a large chasm—but that was the only thing that suggested DANGER! TURN BACK!

              If anything, the place looked more like a tropical paradise than a Cyclops's lair. It had green fields, tropical fruit trees, and white beaches. If anything, Posie would've liked living there, if it wasn't for the small problem of a Cyclop infestation.

              As they sailed towards the shore, Annabeth breathed in the sweet air. "The Fleece," she said.

              Posie frowned at the approaching island, her mind going back to the dreams—of the man talking to her while showing her this island. It irked her; how could he know so much when she was the one with the gift of foresight?

              He doesn't need a gift of foresight, said Onesimus. Not the way you need it. Or any other demigods—or mortals.

              So what is he exactly? asked Posie.

              That's ... that's harder to say.

              But it sounded like Onesimus was lying.

              "If we take it away," Percy started, "will the island die?"

              Annabeth shook her head. "It'll fade. Go back to what it would be normally ... whatever that is."

              In the meadow at the base of the ravine, several dozen sheep were milling around. They looked peaceful enough, but they were huge—the size of hippos. Just past them was a path that led up into the hills. At the top of the path, near the edge of the canyon, was the massive oak tree Posie had seen in her dreams. Something gold glittered in its branches.

              She lurched forward, hands gripping the railing of Queen Anne's Revenge tightly. "The Fleece," she whispered. Then, she frowned. "This ... this is way too easy. We could just go up there ... and take it."

              Not exactly, Onesimus mumbled. You know what you heard in those dreams.

              "Posie—you're dreams," Annabeth said hesitantly, watching the daughter of Apollo. "You said you saw the island in your dreams—"

              "Yeah," Posie interrupted. "Yeah, um, I saw this island. And the oak tree. And the Fleece. I told you guys about it, but I—uh—wasn't entirely honest."

              Percy and Annabeth exchanged looks, as if to say, Again? Posie tried not to let it bother her. "I had the dream the night the bronze bulls attacked ..." She explained what happened: a dream of a paradise island, a glittering fleece that shimmered like a blanket made of pennies, and a monster roaring somewhere else on the island.

              Percy frowned. "That's what you told us before," he noticed.

              "Yeah, 'cause I didn't mention the man talked to me again." Posie sounded bitter, and her hands tightened on the rails of the rickety ship. "He said that I would fall–again. That I would get my answers." She frowned for a moment. "I yelled at him, thinking he was Kronos, but he said that I misunderstood who he was. Said he'll help me—but only me."

              He is a pretty selfish guy, Onesimus agreed. Always complaining, too. Nothing's ever enough for him. Always saying I'm doing a bad job.

              "Nothing comes without a price, though," Annabeth pointed out.

              "He said I had to help him," added Posie. "Said that we've met before—once."

              Annabeth's bottom lip sucked in. "Do you think he showed you this place?"

              Posie shrugged. "... Maybe. I'm not sure."

              "How can we trust him?" asked Percy, crossing his arms. "We don't even know who he is yet."

              I hate that he has a point, Onesimus sniffed.

              Posie tried not to let the idea that Percy was putting her on the spot fester. She tried not to think that Percy thought she might be keeping something more from them. She had shared everything with them now, she had nothing left to hide. Especially Percy who had seen what the Sirens were telling her.

              She shook her head, maybe to rattle the idea ( and Onesimus ) around. "We can't. Not really. All we have to do is just—save Grover. And get the Golden Fleece to—"

              "Save Camp," finished Percy.

              The idea was daunting. Even compared to last summer—when they managed to break into the Underworld—the odds weren't looking good.

              "But it'll be easy," said Percy, his attempt to lighten the mood. "Look—there's, like, nothing guarding the Fleece. We just go up there—and take it."

              Annabeth's eyes narrowed. "That's what I'm worried about. There's supposed to be a guardian. A dragon or ..."

              That's when a deer emerged from the bushes. It trotted into the meadow, probably looking for grass to eat, when the sheep all bleated at once and rushed the animal. It happened so fast that the deer stumbled and was lost in a sea of wool and trampling hooves.

              Grass and tufts of fur flew into the air.

              A second later the sheep all moved away, back to their regular peaceful wanderings. Where the deer had been was a pile of clean white bones.

              Posie's stomach dropped. "Not easy anymore," she meeped.

              "They're like piranhas," added Annabeth warily.

              "Piranhas with wool." Percy looked as sick as Posie felt. "How will we—"

              "Percy! Posie—look!" Annabeth gasped suddenly. She pointed down the beach, to just below the sheep meadow, where a small boat had been run aground ... the other lifeboat from the CSS Birmingham.

✿

They decided there was no way they could get past the man-eating sheep. Annabeth wanted to sneak up the path invisibly and grab the Fleece, but in the end, Posie and Percy convinced her that something would go wrong. The sheep would smell her. Another guardian would appear. Something. And if that happened, there wasn't much the two could do on the stolen ship.

              Besides, their first job was to find Grover and whoever had come ashore in that lifeboat—assuming they'd got past the sheep. Deep down, Posie hoped that the person who'd come ashore on this island was Tyson. But she wasn't sure—and Posie hated having to remind herself of that.

              They moored the Queen Anne's Revenge on the back side of the island where the cliffs rose straight up a good two hundred feet. Posie figured Percy was right—if anything, the ship would be less likely to be noticed here. But Posie only hoped that Polyphemus didn't keep carnivorous mountain goats or else they'd be screwed.

              The cliffs looked climbable, barely—about as difficult as the lava wall back at camp. They rowed a lifeboat to the edge of the rocks and made their way up, very slowly. Annabeth went first because she was the better climber, with Percy after her, and Posie last. They only came close to dying six or seven times, which was pretty good.

              Doing pretty good was an idea squashed in Posie's mind when her hand slipped, and she was left dangling fifty feet above the rocky surf. But she found another handhold and kept climbing ( out of pure adrenaline because Posie was ready to never climb anything ever again ). A minute later Annabeth hit a slippery patch of moss and her foot slipped. Fortunately, she found something else to put it against. That thing was Percy's face.

              "Sorry," she murmured.

              "S'okay," Percy grunted.

              When Posie finally reached the top, she was sure her muscles were nothing but putty and it felt like every bone was fractured in some way. Her muscles ached and her outfit from Apollo hadn't survived the skirmish, the shorts were muddied and ripped and her white top looked like Posie liked rolling around in mud for fun. The three hauled themselves over and then proceeded to collapse.

              "Fuck ..." Percy mumbled, rubbing his hands.

              "My gods," Annabeth groaned.

              Posie couldn't even muster up a verbal response. It was some garbled agreement, a mix of Ouch and It hurts.

              "Gar!" bellowed another voice.

              If Posie hadn't been so tired, she would've reacted more. Instead, she stopped moving, becoming deadly still ( like they were playing a messed up game of Marco Polo ).

              Before Percy could react himself, Annabeth shut him up by pointing.

              The ledge the three were sitting on was narrower than Posie had realized. It dropped off on the opposite side, and that's where the voice was coming from—right below them.

              "You're a feisty one!" the deep voice bellowed.

              "Challenge me!" Clarisse's voice screeched loudly. "Give me back my sword and I'll fight you!"

              The monster roared with laughter in response.

              Annabeth, Posie, and Percy crept to the edge. They were right above the entrance of the Cyclops's cave. Below them stood Polyphemus and Grover, still in his wedding dress. Clarisse was tied up, hanging upside down over a pot of boiling water. Posie was hoping to see Tyson down there, too. Even if he'd been in danger, at least she would've known he was alive. But there was no sign of him.

              "Hm," Polyphemus pondered. "Eat loudmouth girl now or wait for wedding feast? What does my bride think?"

              I think this guy sucks, Onesimus said as if anyone asked for his opinion.

              Shut up! Posie hissed at him.

              The Cyclops turned to Grover, who backed up and almost tripped over his completed bridal train. "Oh, um, I'm not hungry right now, dear. Perhaps—"

              "Did you say bride?" Clarisse demanded. "Who—Grover?"

              Next to Posie, Annabeth muttered, "Shut the fuck up. She has to shut up."

              Polyphemus glowered. "What 'Grover'?"

              "The satyr!" Clarisse yelled.

              "Oh!" Grover yelped. "The poor thing's brain is boiling from that hot water. Pull her down, dear!"

              Polyphemus's eyelid narrowed over his baleful milky eye, as if he were trying to see Clarisse more clearly.

              The Cyclops was even more horrible than Posie could've ever imagined ( and her imagination could come up with some pretty horrible stuff ). Partly because his rancid smell was now up close and personal. Partly because he was dressed in his wedding outfit—a crude kilt and shoulder-wrap, stitched together from baby-blue tuxedoes, as if he'd skinned an entire wedding party.

              "What satyr?" asked Polyphemus. "Satyrs are good eating. You bring me a satyr?"

              "No, you dumbass!" bellowed Clarisse. "That satyr! Grover! The one in the wedding dress!"

              Oo, Onesimus mused with an angry tilt in his voice. A lot like her father, huh?

              Too much, agreed Posie.

              She wanted to do anything—maybe wring Clarisse's neck ( if Posie was the more violent type ), or yell at the daughter of Ares and call her a dolt ( Posie wasn't sure what dolt meant exactly, but it sounded insulting ). But all she could do was watch as Polyphemus turned and ripped off Grover's wedding veil—revealing his black curly hair, his scruffy adolescent beard, and his tiny horns.

              Polyphemus breathed heavily, trying to contain his anger. "I don't see very well," he growled. "Not since many years ago when the other hero stabbed me in the eye. But you're—no—lady—Cyclops!"

              The Cyclops grabbed Grover's dress and tore it away. Underneath, the old Grover reappeared in his jeans and T-shirt. He yelped and ducked as the monster swiped over his head.

              "Stop!" Grover pleaded. "Don't eat me raw! I—I have a good recipe!"

              Percy was about to draw Riptide, but Posie batted the pen down, shaking her head. Storming the Cyclops wasn't a good idea, it would only get them all killed.

              Polyphemus was hesitating, a boulder in his hand, ready to smash his would-be bride. "... Recipe?" he asked Grover.

              "Oh y-yes! You don't want to eat me raw. You'll get E. coli and botulism and all sorts of horrible things. I'll taste much better roasted over a slow fire. With mango chutney! You could go get some mangos right now, down there in the woods. I'll just wait here."

              The monster pondered this. "Roasted satyr with mango chutney," Polyphemus mused. He looked back at Clarisse, still hanging over the pot of boiling water. "You a satyr, too?"

              Oh, gods, Posie thought to herself, shaking her head. I know where that question is going ...

              Onesimus was laughing, quite too delighted by Polyphemus's question.

              "No, you overgrown pile of shit!" Clarisse yelled. "I'm a girl! The daughter of Ares! Now untie me so I can rip your fucking arms off!"

              "Rip my arms off," Polyphemus repeated.

              "And stuff them down your throat!"

              "You got spunk."

              "Let me down!"

              Polyphemus snatched up Grover as if he were a wayward puppy. "Have to graze sheep now. Wedding postponed until tonight. Then we'll eat satyr for the main course!"

              "But ... you're still getting married?" Grover sounded hurt. "Who's the bride?"

              Polyphemus looked towards the boiling pot. Onesimus's snickers were now turning into cackles.

              Clarisse made a strangled sound. "Oh, no! You can't be serious. I'm not—"

              Before Posie, Annabeth, or Percy could do anything, Polyphemus plucked her off the rope like she was a ripe apple, and tossed her and Grover deep into the cave. "Make yourself comfortable! I come back at sundown for big event!"

              Then the Cyclops whistled, and a mixed flock of goats and sheep—smaller than the man-eaters—flooded out of the cave and past their master. As they went to pasture, Polyphemus patted some on the back and called them by name—Beltbuster, Tammany, Lockhart, and so on.

              When the last sheep had waddled out, Polyphemus rolled a boulder in front of the doorway as easily as one would close a refrigerator door, shutting off the sound of Clarisse and Grover screaming inside.

              "Mangos," Polyphemus grumbled to himself. "What are mangos?"

              He strolled off down the mountain in his baby-blue groom's outfit, leaving them alone with a pot of boiling water and a six-ton boulder.

✿

They tried for what seemed like hours, but it was no good. The boulder wouldn't move. They yelled into the cracks, or tapped on the rock; they did everything they could think of to get a signal to Grover, but if he heard them, they couldn't tell.

              The only way this rock was going to move was if Polyphemus moved it himself. In a fit of frustration, Percy slashed Riptide against the boulder. Sparks flew, but nothing else happened. Posie thought she could—perhaps—kill the boulder. But no matter how hard she focused, or how much she stared at her palms, no green glow would start seeping through the lines in her palms.

              She tried not to curse Apollo, but it was hard. ( Especially with Onesimus egging her on; Just once, Posie! he pleaded. Apollo deserves it! You know he does. )

              Annabeth, Percy, and Posie sat on the ridge in despair and watched the distant baby-blue shape of the Cyclops as he moved among his flocks. He had wisely divided his regular animals from his man-eating sheep, putting each group on either side of the huge crevice that divided the island. The only way across was the rope bridge, and the planks were much too far apart for sheep hooves.

              They watched as Polyphemus visited his carnivorous flock on the far side. Unfortunately, they didn't eat him. In fact, they didn't seem to bother him at all. He fed them chunks of mystery meat from a great wicker basket. Watching it made Posie start to see where Grover was coming from—perhaps veganism was for her.

              "Trickery," Annabeth declared after a while. "We can't beat him by force, so we'll have to use trickery."

              "Make sense," agreed Posie. "But what trick?"

              "I haven't figured that part out yet."

              "Hm." Percy nodded sarcastically. "So ... we're screwed?"

              "Polyphemus will have to move the rock to let the sheep inside."

              "At sunset," Posie added, curling her nose. "Wonder if Apollo could, like, hold out for us. Probably won't."

              "Can he even do that?" asked Percy.

              The daughter of Apollo shrugged. "'Dunno. Never asked."

              Percy sighed, grounding his teeth as he stared at the boulder. "If Apollo isn't going to help, that means at sunset—" He shook his head, as if bothered by something. "That's when Polyphemus will marry Clarisse and have Grover for dinner. I'm not sure which is grosser."

              "... I could get inside," Annabeth murmured, lifting her chin from her palm. "Invisibly."

              "What about Posie and me?" Percy frowned.

              "Posie and I." Annabeth rolled her eyes. "And you can use the sheep." She said it like it was funny, giving them a sly look that made Posie wary. "How much do you like sheep?"

✿

"Just don't let go!" Annabeth said, standing invisibly somewhere off to Posie's right. That was easy for Annabeth to say. She wasn't hanging upside down from the belly of a sheep.

              Posie felt like a kid again, hanging upside down to show Mrs. Hall how good she was at monkey bars. The only problem was—Posie wasn't that good at monkey bars. And she immediately proved it by falling from the bars and landing headfirst into the mulch below. ( And the trip to the hospital was just as unfun as falling headfirst into mulch. )

              Maybe it wasn't a good idea to compare hanging from a sheep's belly to hanging from monkey bars.

              If anything, the sheep didn't care. Even the Cyclops's smallest sheep were big enough to support Posie's weight, and they had thick wool, too. She just twirled the stuff into handles for her hands, hooked her feet against the sheep's thigh bones, and presto—she felt like a baby wallaby, riding around against the sheep's chest, trying to keep the wool out of her mouth and her nose.

              In case you're wondering, the underside of a sheep doesn't smell that great. Imagine a winter sweater that's been dragged through the mud and left in the laundry hamper for a week. Something like that—or something worse ( like Lee's feet after a hot day of training ).

              The sun was going down.

              No sooner were Posie and Percy hanging from sheep's bellies did the Cyclops roar, "Oy! Goaties! Sheepies!"

              The flock dutifully began trudging back up the slopes towards the cave.

              "This is it!" Annabeth whispered. "I'll be close by. Don't worry."

              I'm very worried, Onesimus muttered as Annabeth's voice disappeared.

              Posie didn't want to agree, but ... she agreed.

              Her sheep taxi started plodding up the hill. After a hundred yards, Posie's hands and feet started to hurt from holding on. In an attempt to stay on, she gripped the wool tighter, and the animal made a grumbling sound. She didn't blame it. She wouldn't want anybody rock climbing in her hair either. But if Posie didn't hold on, she would definitely fall off right in front of Polyphemus.

              "Hasenpfeffer!" the Cyclops said, patting Posie's sheep and jarring her whole body, too. "Einstein! Widget—eh there, Widget!"

              Polyphemus patted Percy's sheep and nearly knocked him to the ground. He sent Posie a look, head hanging right beneath the sheep's wool. "Putting on some extra mutton there?" Polyphemus laughed and swatted the sheep's rear end, propelling us forward. "Go on, fatty! Soon Polyphemus will eat you for breakfast!"

              And just like that, they were in the cave. Posie could see the last of the sheep coming inside. If Annabeth didn't pull off her distraction soon ...

              The Cyclops was about to roll the stone back into place, when from somewhere outside Annabeth shouted, "Hello, ugly!"

              Polyphemus stiffened. "Who said that?"

              "Nobody!" Annabeth yelled.

              That got exactly the reaction she'd been hoping for. The monster's face turned red with rage.

              "Nobody!" Polyphemus yelled back. "I remember you!"

              "You're too stupid to remember anybody," taunted Annabeth. "Much less Nobody."

              Posie hoped to any god listening that Annabeth was already moving when she said that, because Polyphemus bellowed furiously, grabbed the nearest boulder ( which happened to be his front door ), and threw it towards the sound of Annabeth's voice. Posie heard the rock smash into a thousand fragments.

              For a terrible moment, there was silence. Then Annabeth shouted, "You haven't learned to throw any better, either!"

              Polyphemus howled. "Come here! Let me kill you, Nobody!"

              "You can't kill Nobody, you idiot," she taunted. "Come find me!"

              Polyphemus barreled down the hill towards her voice. The 'Nobody' thing was genius, Posie had to admit. It was the name Odysseus had used to trick Polyphemus centuries ago, right before he poked the Cyclops's eye out with a large hot stick. Annabeth had figured Polyphemus would still have a grudge about that name, and she was right.

              In his frenzy to find his old enemy, he forgot about resealing the cave entrance. Apparently, he didn't even stop to consider the voice change either. On the other hand, he'd wanted to marry Grover, so he couldn't have been all that bright about the whole recognizing people thing.

              Posie only hoped Annabeth could stay alive and keep distracting him long enough for her and Percy to find Grover and Clarisse.

              She and Percy dropped off their rides, and Percy took the time to pat Widget on the head and apologize. They searched the main room, but there was no sign of Grover or Clarisse. They pushed through the crowd of sheep and goats toward the back of the cave.

              Posie hadn't dreamed about the cave, only the outside and the Fleece. Luckily, Percy had dreamt about Polyphemus's cave—but it was still like navigating a maze even with his dream. They ran down corridors littered with bones, past rooms full of sheepskin rugs, and life-size cement sheep that Posie recognized as the work of Medusa. There were collections of sheep T-shirts; large tubs of lanolin cream; and woolly coats, socks, and hats with rams' horns. Finally, they found the spinning room, where Grover was huddled in the corner, trying to cut Clarisse's bonds with a pair of safety scissors.

              "It's no good," Clarisse said. "This rope is like iron!"

              "Just a few more minutes!"

              "Grover," the daughter of Ares cried, exasperated. "You've been working at it for hours!"

              And then they saw the new arrivals.

              "Percy? Posie" Clarisse asked. "You guys are supposed to be blown up!"

              "You sound relieved." Posie frowned and pulled out Anthos. "Now, just let me—"

              "Perrrcy!" Grover bleated and tackled the boy with a goat-hug. "You heard me! You came!"

              "Yeah, buddy," agreed Percy, smiling to see his best friend. "Of course I came."

              "Where's Annabeth?"

              "Outside," Posie explained. "Long story. No time to explain. Clarisse—just hold still and let me cut the rope."

              Anthos cut the iron-like ropes like butter. Clarisse stood stiffly, rubbing her wrists. She nodded at Posie, but then glared at Percy resentfully, then looked at the ground and mumbled, "Thanks."

              "Glad you're not dead, either." Posie's cheek twitched, knowing that was the best she was going to get from Clarisse La Rue.

              "Clarisse—was anyone else on board your lifeboat?" Percy asked urgently.

              The daughter of Ares looked surprised. "No. Just me. Everybody else aboard the Birmingham ... well, I didn't even know you guys made it out."

              "Oh." Posie tried not to glance Percy's way, knowing he had to feel even worse than she did. Clarisse unknowingly just killed any hope of Tyson being alive. "Um, okay. We can't stop and chat now. We have to help—"

              An explosion echoed through the cave, followed by a scream that told Posie that they might just be too late. It was Annabeth crying out in fear.

✿ OCT. 12TH, 2023 / it was really hard starting this chapter- like starting to write, but once i started it was super easy

go figure 😭

i don't have much to say this chapter tbh- like,, here it is. idk we're kinda in that awkward stage where nothing new/important is happening- yet- so i have nothing to say, but i like having these author's notes otherwise feels empty without them

anyways,, thoughts? opinions??

btws will be updating the formatting of this book (nothing crazy, just the formatting of the author's notes and the titles) bc i like the way i've formatted on house of cards and i want to start implementing it in the books that i can- so sorry if you get a bunch of notifs for this book (and maybe on this spring day? i haven't decided if i'm going to update formatting for it either)

(not edited nor proofread)