The Path Of Glory (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

52. Big Bro Shows Up With His Girlfriend

They rode the boar till sunset. Y/N's back end couldn't have taken any more of it; boar-riding all day was far from comfortable—as comfortable as a giant steel brush over a bed of gravel under your butt.

He had no idea how many miles they covered, but the mountains faded into the distance and were replaced by miles of flat, dry land. The grass and scrub brush got sparser until they were galloping—Do you ride boars? he wondered—across the desert.

As night fell, the boar came to a stop at a creek bed and snorted. He started drinking the muddy water, then ripped a saguaro cactus out of the ground and chewed it, needles and all.

"This is as far as he'll go," Grover said. "We need to get off while he's eating."

Nobody needed convincing. They slipped off the boar's back while he was busy ripping up cacti. Then they waddled away as best they could with their saddle sores.

After its third saguaro and another drink of muddy water, the boar squealed and belched, then whirled around and galloped back toward the east.

"It likes the mountains better," Percy guessed.

"I can't blame it," Thalia said. "Look."

Ahead of them was a two-lane road covered with sand. On the other side of the road was a cluster of buildings too small to be a town: a boarded-up house, a taco shop that looked like it hadn't been open since before the gods were born, and a white stucco post office with a sign that said GILA CLAW, ARIZONA hanging crooked above the door. Beyond that was a range of hills, but looking closely, Y/N noticed they weren't regular hills. The countryside was way too flat for that. The hills were enormous mounds of old cars, appliances, and other scrap metal. It was a junkyard that seemed to go on forever.

Ethan stared at the hills, hissed at them, and said, "Holy cow."

"Yeah, that's me," Y/N said.

"Something tells me we're not going to find a car rental here," Thalia said. She looked at Grover. "I don't suppose you got another wild boar up your sleeve?"

Grover was sniffing the wind, looking nervous. He fished out his acorns and threw them into the sand, then played his pipes. They rearranged themselves in a pattern that made no sense to Y/N, but Grover looked concerned.

"That's us," he said. "Those seven nuts right there."

"Which one is me?" Y/N asked.

"The deformed one," Zoë suggested.

"Ha ha. Very funny."

"That cluster right there," Grover said, pointing to the left as if nobody had interrupted him, "that's trouble."

"A monster?" Bianca asked.

Grover looked uneasy. "I don't smell anything, which doesn't make sense. But the acorns don't lie. Our next challenge . . ."

He pointed straight toward the junkyard. With the sunlight almost gone now, the hills of metal looked like something on an alien planet.

They decided to camp for the night and try the junkyard in the morning. None of them wanted to go dumpster-diving in the dark.

Zoë and Bianca produced seven sleeping bags and foam mattresses out of their backpacks, which raised two questions. First, how could you do this, with tiny packs? Second, why had they exactly seven sleeping bags and mattresses?

Shut up, it's magic, was the only answer his mind told Y/N. Well, he'd noticed their bows and quivers were also enchanted—when the Hunters needed them, they just appeared slung over their backs; and when they didn't, they were gone.