Chapter 2

Andrew walked briskly towards the woods of Camp Half Blood, a safe haven for demigods (half mortal half immortal) like himself, where they were shelter from any unwanted weather, cruel monsters, and offered training for each demigod in order to turn each demigod into something like the great heroes of old, Heracles, Achilles, Perseus, Theseus, the list went on and on. Andrew couldn’t help thinking about his own parents, Annabeth and Percy Jackson. Both were Greek demigods, his mother was one of the greatest daughters of Athena, goddess of wisdom, war strategy and clever crafts, and his father was a son of one of the big three gods: Poseidon, god over the seas, father of horses, and creator of earthquakes. These two demigods were the some of the greatest of their time. Not only had they actually survived into adulthood, which was impressive for any demigod who fought the omnipresent threat of monsters wanting to kill them, Andrew’s parents had been heroes in the great Titan War, succeeded on many quests, followed through a great prophesy, and had worked with the gods themselves to win a glorious victory in the Giant War.

Andrew wished he could live up to his parents’ legacy some day. Everyone else sure seemed to think him capable of such. Chiron, his teacher in all things “hero”, always pushed him harder than many others, even extended favoritism at some points. During the capture the flag games all demigods participated in most Friday evenings, most people expected him to pull out a great victory for their team, assuming he had inherited all the heroic traits of his parents. It was almost crushing sometimes- living up to all these expectations. His parents had always offered comfort, his father would sometimes tell him of the times on their quests when they had felt similar. Andrew loved hearing these stories of his parent’s adventures. They showed him a real life example of enduring through an apparent fatal prophesy, like the one today.

“When the two halves become one whole

Through wisdom shall they prevent a magical goal

She who is three shall take they who gave birth

A second darkness shall engulf the earth

Save you prevail, and complete a circle round the turf.”

Andrew shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This was the reason he had come out here. A walk through the woods and some fresh air often helped him clear his mind of the tormenting nightmares.

Andrew was at the edge of the woods now; a stream trickling towards the lake was off to his side. He continued to make his way through the woods, following the side of the stream.  Lightning flashed in the distance, where dark clouds were culminating over the misty long island shore. Not a drop of rain landed on Andrew, not with the weather control system at Camp Half-Blood, but the lightening made his grey eyes seem to flash like a silver coin glinting in the sunlight.

Andrew mulled over his disturbing dreams, hands in his jacket pocket, slowly strolling through the forest alone. He could vividly remember the images, the threats, that voice.

Something bright scarlet caught his eye. Andrew looked over curiously. A trail of blood gleamed in the grey light of the early stormy morning on top of a moss covered rock. All the hairs on the back of Andrew’s neck stood straight up. He looked closer, his curiosity getting the better of himself. He examined the trail on the rock, then spotted a smear on a tree further down the way. Andrew stepped closer to find out more, when he saw something in the corner of his eye and seemed to turn to ice: frozen and pale as anything.

A girl, probably fifteen or sixteen, lay sprawled on the ground, wet scarlet blood trickling from a cut in her forehead, joining into the pool of blood pouring from a gash in her shoulder. Her blonde hair was dirty and tangled, spattered with specks of dirt, twigs, blood, and lay sprawled out around her, a complete mess. She was barely more than a skeleton, her emaciated limbs sprawled out. Something gold glinted in her hair. At first, Andrew hadn’t noticed it at first as it blended well with her hair color. He looked closer, and realized it was monster dust. All the pieces rushed together in Andrew’s head. This girl was most definitely a demigod. She had probably been on the run for a long time, being chased by one monster and another, until being severely wounded by one, which had lost more blood than she could afford. She had probably tried to run, and had entered the boundaries of Camp Half Blood and into the forest before collapsing from loss of blood. Andrew’s mind raced as it always did when confronted with any piece of information- a very helpful trait he had inherited from his godly grandmother, Athena, goddess of wisdom.

Andrew bent down next to the girl, and tried to remember what the Apollo campers had taught him about what to do in this kind of situation. His eyes darted around for something he could use to stem the flow of blood. After a few seconds of frantic search, he resigned to ripping off a strip of the bottom of his jeans, and then did his best to tie a tourniquet around her shoulder. Next, he moved on to the gash in her forehead. He ripped off the bottom of his other jean leg and circled it around her head, covering the gash and stanching the blood flow there as well. He just hoped he’d done this all correctly. He pushed back the thoughts nagging at his brain, reminding him of the consequences of first aid done wrong.

As he finished applying the tourniquets, he wondered about the demigod herself. How could a demigod survive for this long on their own? How had she found Camp Half-Blood? What had done this to her? How long had she been on the run? Questions pestered him, racing around his mind. He stepped back for a second to admire his handiwork, then chided himself for doing so. This girl could very well be a few minutes from dying. He needed someone who knew what they were doing. Perhaps an Apollo camper, or even better, Chiron. He had seen it all. Surely he would be able to help this girl, maybe even find the answers to Andrew’s questions.

Andrew scooped the girl up in his arms. She was surprisingly light, which wasn’t really much of a good thing. Careful to avoid brushing against any tree branches of rocks, Andrew raced back through the woods, back to the path given by the stream, then straight towards the cabins where, he prayed, someone would be awake and able to help this poor girl. A ways away, the sun peeked through the dense storm clouds, and white light danced across the storm churned waters on long island sound. No more thunder or lightening sounded. The air was silent except for the timid chirping of a few birds and the pounding of feet across the ground.