Wild ― Piper McLean

―xvii. at home in the wild

THE REST OF THE NIGHT passed in a blur. They told their story and answered a million questions from the other campers, but finally Chiron saw how tired they were and ordered them to bed.

Verona was never taking mattresses for granted again. By the time she woke, she felt like she'd slept for a solid twenty-four hours—which, honestly, wouldn't have surprised her.

When she opened her eyes, the rest of the Hermes cabin kids were meandering about the cabin, getting ready for the day from the looks of it. As soon as she sat up, about a dozen pairs of eyes zeroed in on her.

"Did you really punch Midas in the face?" came a question.

"Did you get your memories back yet?" came another.

"Did you remember a boyfriend or are you single?" came yet another.

Verona blinked. "Yes, no, and I'm a lesbian," she answered.

"Not again," the last asker complained.

"Congrats on surviving your first quest," one of the quarreling brothers said. "Pretty big accomplishment, newbie."

"Yeah, when can I ditch the 'newbie' nickname?" Verona asked with a sigh. She got out of her bunk, wincing at the dull ache in her arm from her fall on Mount Diablo. Yeah, that was gonna get annoying.

"Give it another week," the other brother said (Verona really needed to figure out her cabin mates' names). "We'll come up with something better."

🌿

Verona managed to talk herself out of attending Cabin 11's archery lessons (even without her memories, she had a feeling she was shit at archery), using the excuse of needing to go make sure she wasn't bleeding internally and just didn't know it. After getting some nectar and a check-up at the infirmary, she decided to explore the woods for a little bit.

As she walked, the wild creatures that called the forest home came to say hello. Squirrels jumped from branch to branch above her. Snakes slithered around the ground, rattling their empty threats with their tails and their thoughts. A coyote nipped at the hem of her shirt and scurried off when she raised an eyebrow. A bobcat rubbed against her leg before trying (and failing) to pounce on a grounded squirrel.

For the first time since she'd woken up on the Wilderness School bus, she felt at home.

A cardinal landed on her shoulder, picking at her plumage as Verona walked. A family of nightingales sang in the treetops. A sparrow built her nest in a high branch, making a home for her future young.

A raven cawed overhead.

She froze. She'd heard that song before, in another life—in her life, in the past still locked behind some invisible barrier, just out of reach.

A raven had sung, and she'd mourned.

But what had she mourned? Who had she mourned?

She pulled the list Aeolus had given her out of her pocket, unfolding it once again. She stared at each name, including her own. Was it a hit list? Some kind of record of lives lost?

But her name wouldn't be on it, right? So these people couldn't be dead.

Could they?

Verona let out a frustrated groan, barely stopping herself from ripping the meaningless list into pieces. She shoved it back into her pocket, turning back in the direction of camp.

Though it seemed hopeless, she had to trust the gods—trust Hera—that her memories would come back, even if it took time. The goddess had said she and Jason would get their memories back if they saved her, and they'd done it.