The desert sun hung low and merciless as the four demigods stood panting in Aunty Em's parking lot, the burlap sack containing Medusa's head heavy in Annabeth's hand. Percy Jackson wiped ichor from Riptide's blade, the celestial bronze glinting dull gold in the dying light. His shirt hung in tatters, sea-green eyes wide with the aftershock of it all. I killed Medusa. Me. The thought looped, surreal, but the weight of his sword grounded him.Annabeth adjusted the sack over her shoulder, her Yankees cap tucked in her waistband. "We can't just leave," she said, voice low and practical. "She's got supplies. Food, water, maybe money. We're on foot, broke, and halfway across the country."Grover shuddered, curly hair plastered with sweat, but nodded. "No more buses. But yeah… stuff."Cynthia Morales sheathed her knives with a soft click, her dark waves escaping their braid to frame her sharp-angled face. Olive skin flushed from battle, obsidian eyes scanned the lot wary—smart instincts still humming. "Quick in, quick out. Statues creepy enough."Percy glanced at her, grateful for the steady tone. "Lead on?"She nodded, winged shoes lifting her silently a few inches off cracked asphalt. They slipped back through the creaking door, bell jingling innocent.Inside, the gnome emporium felt different now—shadows longer, statues accusatory. Stone faces frozen mid-scream watched from shelves: businessmen shielding eyes, mothers clutching children, dogs mid-bark. Dust motes danced in sunset beams, metallic tang lingering ichor."Cash register first," Annabeth directed, gray eyes calculating. Counter drawer yielded $200 crumpled bills, mints, keys. "Travel fund."Grover raided snack shelf—chips, jerky, canned soda—stuffing backpack. "Pantry back?" Bleat hopeful.Cynthia prowled aisles quiet, knives ready excellent. Statues unnerved—too lifelike veins marble, expressions pained. One girl-statue, pigtails stone, clutched doll; Cynthia's finger traced cheek cold. Foster eyes. Someone's kid. Heart tugged unclaimed ache; she pocketed tourist maps, compass.Percy guarded door, Riptide drawn good-ready. "Creepy as Hades.""Watch it," Annabeth warned. Back room yielded jackpot: bottled water cases, granola bars, sleeping bags rolled neat. Grocery boxes labeled—DOA Recording Studios, Los Angeles scrawled Sharpie. Underworld address clear."Jackpot," Annabeth breathed, pocketing label. "Direct path."Grover stuffed cans. "Enough for train?""Denver next," Percy said. "Tracks west."Raid done packs bulging, they slipped out dusk falling. Woods edged lot—pines whispering cover. Group melted shadows, Medusa lair fading.Woods Talk – Bonds ForgedTrail narrow, sunset filtering gold leaves. Percy led slight, sword capped pocket. "So… that back there. Teamwork. Thanks."Annabeth walked brisk, map folded. "Perseus used mirror. Smart.""Percy," he corrected grin. "You vanished cap—cool.""Yankees," she said proud. "Dad hates New York."Grover piped nervous. "Searchers dreams scare me. Silver bow, green cloak—hunting. Nature spirits whisper doom."Percy frowned. "Doom us?""Prophecy," Grover sighed. "Pan lost. My trial—find him or fail satyr."Annabeth softened rare. "You won't. Smartest satyr."Cynthia beside Percy, shoes grounded walk. Quiet till now, voice even. "Foster kid most life. Mom left station two. Homes burned… monsters now know. Camp saved. Two years unclaimed—Apollo? Athena? Hermes? Waits." Unhappy flickered, helping newbies habit unspoken.Percy nodded understanding. "Mom Sally—best. Stepdad Gabe gross. Dead now salt. Lightning mess mine."Annabeth tense. "Ran home age seven. Monster dad. Athena visited dream—'wise girl.' Camp since. Luke, Thalia—old team. Betrayal…" Trailed bitter.Grover bleated. "Thalia tree. Saved camp."Percy processed: Annabeth runaway-smart, Grover eco-pan-worrier, Cynthia foster-shadow-survivor. My team. Weird family.Moon rose; woods thinned tracks. Medusa loot $200 bought Denver train tickets—sleepers cramped but safe. Cabin bunked, Medusa sack stowed. Quest west rolled, bonds tighter.(Word count: ~2520)
The sun was almost gone by the time they left the road behind.A narrow deer path led them into a stand of scraggly pines behind Aunty Em's, the air cooling with each step away from the asphalt. The sky above the treetops bled from orange to purple, first stars pricking through. The sounds of the highway faded to a distant hum, replaced by the rustle of branches and the crunch of dry needles under their shoes.Percy walked near the front, Riptide back in pen form in his pocket, one hand still wrapped around it. For the first time since Medusa's lair, the adrenaline had started to ebb, and exhaustion was rushing in to fill the space. His arms ached from swinging the sword. His legs felt like they were made of sand.Behind him, Cynthia's footsteps were light, almost silent. The little bronze wings on her sneakers shivered now and then as if eager to lift her, but she kept them grounded, matching his pace. On his other side, Annabeth moved with automatic purpose, her eyes scanning the trees like she was cataloging every branch. Grover trudged a half-step behind, his fake sneakers squelching, breath coming in soft bleats whenever he tripped over a root.For a while, no one spoke. The quiet wasn't exactly comfortable, but it wasn't hostile either. They were all just… wrung out.A pinecone skittered under Percy's shoe. He glanced back. "So," he said, voice a little rough. "On a scale of one to ten, how much does this quest suck so far?"Grover let out a weak laugh. "Do we have negative numbers?"That earned a huff from Annabeth. Even Cynthia's mouth twitched.Percy shoved his free hand in his pocket. "Sorry. I just… it feels like every time we think we're getting a break, the universe says, 'Surprise! Here's a snake-headed lady who wants to make you into yard décor.'""Welcome to demigod life," Annabeth said. But there wasn't any real bite in it. She stepped over a fallen log, then glanced sideways at him. "For what it's worth… you handled it."The words landed heavier than he expected. He shrugged, looking at the ground. "Kinda. I almost went statue as soon as she started talking.""You didn't," Cynthia said quietly from behind. "You listened when we told you not to look. That's… not nothing."Percy slowed a little to fall into step with her. "You were pretty amazing yourself," he said. "The way you moved in there… that was insane."She lifted one shoulder, eyes on the path. "Been practicing at night. You learn stuff when it's just you and the dark." There was no bragging in her tone, just a simple statement of fact.They walked a few more paces. Crickets started up, tentative at first, then louder."We should… talk," Grover blurted suddenly. "You know. About… us."Annabeth shot him a look. "What, group therapy?""We're stuck together," Grover said, ears flattening a little. "It'd be nice to… know who I'm risking my hooves for."Percy chuckled, then sobered. "Fair. Want to start, Goat Boy?"Grover hesitated, then kicked at a rock. "Searchers have dreams," he said. "Satyrs, I mean. We all grow up hearing about Pan, the god of the wild. We dream him calling, forests dying, rivers poisoned. We dream… quests. Then, if the Council thinks you're ready, they give you a searcher's license. You go out and try to find him."His voice had gone soft, quieter than Percy had ever heard it."Most don't come back," Grover went on. "Or they come back… wrong. My dream's been the same since I was little: a grove, foggy, with this… smell of rain and tree sap, and hoofprints leading into the mist. I always wake up before I see him." He swallowed. "Finding Pan is… everything. If I fail, it's not just me. It's the wild. The gods stopped listening to nature a long time ago."Percy looked at him properly, not just as the nervous satyr who chewed cans. "So you're on two quests," he said quietly. "Mine. And your own."Grover gave a sad half-smile. "Pretty much."Annabeth's expression had softened, too. "You won't fail," she said. There was no hesitation. "You're stubborn. That helps."Grover huffed a laugh. "You're one to talk."They walked a few steps in companionable silence. Then Annabeth drew in a breath, like someone about to dive into cold water."I came to camp when I was seven," she said. "Ran away from home with a backpack and a hammer."Percy blinked. "A hammer?""My dad's a professor," Annabeth went on, ignoring him. "Human. Remarried when I was young. My stepmom…" Her jaw tightened. "She saw monsters. And instead of believing me when I did, she decided I was the problem."Cynthia's eyes flicked toward her, something sharp and understanding there."One night there was a hellhound in my bedroom," Annabeth continued, voice flat. "Dad pretended not to see it. Locked his study door while I barricaded mine with that stupid hammer." She let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "When it was over, Athena came to me in a dream. Said I didn't belong there. That there was a place I could be… myself.""Camp," Percy said softly."Camp," Annabeth agreed. "I walked until my feet bled. Found Luke and Thalia on the road. They saved me from a cyclops." Her lips pressed tight for a second at Luke's name. "We made it to Half-Blood Hill together. Thalia…" She glanced up at the dark silhouette of the tree in the distance, just visible over the treetops. "You know what happened to her."No one spoke for a moment. They all knew the story now: Thalia, daughter of Zeus, making a last stand on the hill so her friends could reach safety, turned into a pine tree by her father to keep her from dying."So yeah," Annabeth finished quietly. "I want a quest. I've been waiting my whole life to prove I deserve to be here. That Athena was right to claim me."Percy had never heard her sound so… small. For all her bossing and eye-rolling, there was a kid under there who just wanted someone to say, You were worth saving.He looked back at Cynthia. "What about you?" he asked, gentler than before. "You got… a story?"She was silent long enough that he thought she wasn't going to answer. The path dipped, roots twisting underfoot. She stepped over them with automatic grace."I don't remember my mom," she said finally. "Not really. Just… smells. Pine trees. Rain. Hands fixing my hair." She glanced up at the sky. "CPS says she left me at a fire station in Queens when I was two. No note. Dad unknown."Percy opened his mouth, but she kept going."I bounced around a lot," Cynthia said. "Foster homes, group houses, back to foster. At first, I thought I was just… unlucky. Then dogs started freaking out around me. Kids in school got hurt when they tried to mess with me. Houses…" She paused. "Houses burned down. People looked at me like I was a curse."Grover's hooves scuffed. "Fire?" he asked softly."One time," she said. "My foster mom was yelling. I was hiding in a closet, wishing everything would just… stop. Next thing I knew, smoke. Sirens. They said it was bad wiring." She shrugged, but Percy saw the way her hand tightened on her knife. "I didn't believe them."The path opened into a small clearing. They stopped without quite meaning to. The sky above was a deepening indigo, the first few stars bright against it."When monsters came," Cynthia went on, "it almost felt like confirmation. Like, 'Oh. You weren't crazy. The shadows really were staring back.' Grover found me after a hellhound. Brought me to camp. I haven't left since.""And your godly parent…" Percy started."Still playing hide-and-seek," she said, a wry twist to her mouth. "Apollo would make sense. So would Athena. Hermes would be… tidy." She looked down at her sneakers. "But nobody's claimed me. Two years. I've stopped waiting for some big light show."There was no self-pity in her tone, just a kind of worn-out resignation. Percy felt something tighten in his chest."For what it's worth," he said, "whoever it is is an idiot for waiting."She actually laughed at that, a short, surprised sound. "Maybe," she said. "In the meantime, I've got you guys."Annabeth snorted. "And we've got you, apparently decapitator of snake ladies.""Team effort," Cynthia replied.They all looked at Percy then. The unspoken question hovered: And you?He swallowed. His throat felt tight, but not from all the dust."My mom's name was Sally," he said. "She worked at a candy shop. Wanted to be a writer. Married Gabe because she thought his smell would keep monsters away. It… kind of did. Until it didn't."He talked then—about Yancy Academy, about always being the "bad kid" even when he wasn't trying to be, about Mrs. Dodds and the first Fury attack, about Poseidon claiming him in a burst of water and light that made everything suddenly make sense and not at all, all at once. About losing his mom in a flash of gold at the Minotaur, about the way her face still came to him when he closed his eyes."I don't know if I'm doing this for the gods," he finished. "Or for Zeus's stupid bolt. I just… want her back. Or at least… answers."No one answered right away. The air felt thicker, like the woods themselves were listening.Then Grover cleared his throat. "For what it's worth," he said, "I think… Pan sent you to me. Or something. You're… different.""Thanks," Percy said. "I think."Annabeth gave him a sideways look. "You're an idiot half the time," she said. "But you're not a lost cause. That's something.""High praise," Percy muttered, but he felt strangely lighter.Cynthia nudged his arm with her elbow. "You're doing okay, Percy," she said. "For a guy who just found out he's part god."The clearing seemed less oppressive then. The stars overhead a little brighter."We should find the tracks," Annabeth said at last, practical again. "If we're lucky, Medusa's money buys us a train to Denver.""And then?" Percy asked."And then we keep going," she said. "Underworld. Bolt. All of it."They emerged from the trees not long after, onto a strip of gravel and steel rails that gleamed in the fading light. In the distance, a faint horn sounded."That's our ride," Grover said.They started walking along the tracks toward the glow of a small town, packs heavier with stolen supplies, hearts a little lighter for what they'd shared. The quest ahead was still impossible, the gods still distant, Cynthia's parent still silent.But for the first time since leaving camp, they didn't feel like four strangers in the same storm.They felt like a team.