Thunder and Blood

34

Stiles

The clearing is deadly quiet - save for the heavy breathing of the campers - even the wind seems to have stopped. My ears are ringing, my head is pounding. Everything, everyone has gone still. Like the eye of a storm, a pause before the chaos begins once again.

And then the world seems to blow up.

The hydra explodes into a massive cloud of red dust. The force of the eruption knocks all of us to the ground. The beast is vaporized, sending droplets of blood spraying in every direction. Some of the campers are spared, but the lot of us get the worst of it. Me included.

I press my palm to the blood wettened grass, pushing myself slowly off the ground. Everyone, it seems, is doing the same. Everyone but Percy Jackson.

Despite being the closest to the blast, he is the only one left standing.

Once more the clearing is dead silent. Literally.

One by one the campers realize what had happened, what Percy had done. At first there are only whispers, and then murmurs. Percy turns, his face splattered in blood, his clothes stained dark. He looks like a serial killer. A literal psychopath, bathed in the blood of his victims. He meets my eyes, but only for a moment. They are crazed, excited, as if the whole thing had been exhilarating. He tears his eyes away from me and begins to search the crowd of teenagers, looking for someone.

His gaze locks.

Annabeth, the blond girl standing maybe 50 meters away, her light hair dotted with blood.

She looks horrified, along with everyone around her. I don't blame her, I am too. But I'm also in shock, so the two states contradict themselves. Percy doesn't walk towards her like I thought he would, he looks away and starts to walk back towards the cabins. Nor does she chase after him. She is left staring at the empty clearing, where the hydra should have been, the ground covered in a thin layer of blood.

I look down at Percy's sword, the shiny blade is coated in dried blood. I reach down and pick it up, the hilt is slick, sticky. I try not to think about what I am touching as I lift it off the ground. But my stomach does a flip anyways.

The whole clearing reeks of hot metal, the taste of iron is sitting on my tongue, not washing away no matter how many times I swallow. The air is thick, warm, sending drops of bloody sweat dripping down my forehead. My hair is matted to my skin, the blood soaked into it is drying rapidly, crusting into the dark strands.

I am the only camper left in the middle of the clearing, the rest fo the kids are standing off to the side, some crying, some just staring. They're all staring at me. I feel small under their gaze, they saw what I had done before Percy saved me. But they don't know what to think; I'm the new guy, and yet I had held my own against a hydra.

Before anyone can second guess my abilities, I start to walk, trying to get away from everyone without looking as though I'm in a hurry. The last thing I want is a bunch of kids I don't know judging me.

Once I'm out of sight, I break into a run, chasing after Percy.

The only problem is that I have no idea where he is.