This Dark Night ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase¹

―xii. clarisse flies home alone

TYSON GAVE THEM A BRIEF RUNDOWN OF HIS ADVENTURES: Rainbow the hippocampus—who'd apparently been following them ever since the Long Island Sound, waiting for Tyson to play with him again—had found Tyson sinking beneath the wreckage of the CSS Birmingham and pulled him to safety. The two had been searching the Sea of Monsters ever since, trying to find the questers, until Tyson caught the scent of the sheep and found this island.

"Tyson, thank the gods!" Percy called. "Annabeth is hurt!"

"You thank the gods she is hurt?" Tyson asked, puzzled.

"No!" Percy knelt next to Naomi, who was already holding Annabeth's head in her lap. She'd already pressed a handful of yarrow flowers to the gash on her forehead, so the bleeding had all but stopped, but she was still pale and unresponsive, and no flower or herb could heal head trauma that severe. 

"Tyson, the Fleece," Percy said. "Can you get it for me?" 

"Which one?" Tyson said, looking around at the hundreds of sheep. 

"In the tree!" Percy said. "The gold one!"

"Oh. Pretty. Yes."

Tyson lumbered over, careful not to step on the sheep. If anyone else had tried to approach the Fleece, they would've been eaten alive, but Naomi guessed Tyson smelled like Polyphemus, because the flock didn't bother him at all. They just cuddled up to him and bleated affectionately. 

Tyson reached up and lifted the Fleece off its branch. Immediately the leaves of the oak tree turned yellow. 

Tyson started wading back toward them, but Percy yelled, "No time! Throw it!" 

The gold ram skin sailed through the air like a glittering shag frisbee. Percy caught it with a grunt before he spread it over Annabeth, covering everything but her face. 

Naomi held her breath. Please, please, please. 

The color returned to Annabeth's face. Her eyelids fluttered open. The cut on her forehead began to close. She saw Grover and said weakly, "You're not... married?" 

Grover grinned. "No. My friends talked me out of it." 

"Annabeth," Percy said, "just lay still." 

But, despite everyone's protests, she sat up. Naomi saw that the cut on her face was almost completely healed, the stained yarrow buds falling soundlessly onto her lap. She looked a lot better—in fact, she almost shimmered with health, as if someone had injected her with glitter. 

Meanwhile, Tyson was starting to have trouble with the sheep. "Down!" he told them as they tried to climb him, looking for food. A few of them were sniffing in the half-bloods' direction. "No, sheepies. This way! Come here!"

They heeded him, but it was obvious they were hungry, and they were starting to realize Tyson didn't have any treats for them. They wouldn't hold out forever with so much fresh meat nearby.

"We have to go," Percy said. "Our ship is..." The Queen Anne's Revenge was a long way away. The shortest route was across the chasm, and they'd just destroyed the only bridge. The only other possibility was through the sheep. 

"Tyson," Percy called, "can you lead the flock as far away as possible?"

"The sheep want food."

"I know! They want people food! Just lead them away from the path. Give us time to get to the beach. Then join us there." 

Tyson looked doubtful, but he whistled. "Come, sheepies! Um, people food this way!"

He jogged off into the meadow, the sheep in pursuit.