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ANYA WAS having a really good dream, considering how she was a demigod and all, and nightmares from either trauma or prophecies and important propaganda were common occurrences.
So it was fair that she was upset when she abruptly woke up, wincing as she rubbed her eyelids and blinking. Her half-siblings never woke her up unless it was an emergency, and if they did, it was always gently and kindly. But nobody had woken her up this time. She simply woke up because her body knew it was time, and Anya wished she could've spent a little more time in bed seeing how she wasn't exactly a morning person.
Not to mention, ever since Amalia, her sister, had disappeared off the face of the Earth— Anya had been having extremely restless nights that involved her crying herself to sleep, and then later having nightmares that plagued her sleep. Of Amalia being kidnapped. Of her being lost somewhere dangerous, or in some kind of risky horrible situation. She hated it. Searches had been officiated, and for many weeks they tried. But no one succeeded. Amalia couldn't be found.
Anya rubbed at her crusty skin, where her skin had been dried with tears, and she climbed out of bed. The cabin was pretty much empty, aside from herself and Fatima, who was tossing and turning in her bunk, muttering something about a ballet recital and an enchilada in her sleep.
Anya tiptoed across the room, careful to be quiet to not wake up Fatima, despite that she was a sound sleeper. She stepped outside and glanced at the nearest camper. "Are Annabeth and Butch back yet?" she mumbled to the new camp counselor, Miranda Gardiner. Oh yeah, she almost forgot to mention! Katie hadn't come back this summer. Apparently her mother had cancer, and it was getting really bad. The two had Iris-messaged a couple times, but Anya was worried about Katie and her mother. The last time they'd talked was two weeks ago. She hoped they were doing okay.
"They should be back in about an hour or so," Miranda confidently answered. "They left at about high noon yesterday."
"Thanks," she muttered to the new counselor, and walked in the opposite direction. Anya headed towards the sword fighting area, plucking a bulkier sword from the selection. She carried a much thinner one for battle, so there'd be less weight to carry around in fights, but she liked to swap out her weapon when practicing her skills at camp.
"Up for a fight, scrawny?" Clarisse La Rue was standing across from her, quirking an eyebrow.
"One, I'm not scrawny," protested Anya, and flexed her arm to show the ever so slight muscles that rippled across her skin. "Two— you bet I'm going to beat your ass, La Rue. Respectfully," she added with a grin.
Clarisse rolled her eyes. "Alright, show me what you got, Kimora. You weren't that bad last summer, but since you obviously need my help—"
"Excuse me?" demanded Anya. "Thanks for the tips and all that you provided me, but I'm great without it too."
Yeah, a lot changed throughout the summer. Clarisse and Anya now being combat comrades— hey that had a ring to it!— was one of them.
Clarisse scoffed. "Fine. Are we gonna fight any year now?"
