Mortem Obire

Chapter 11

Chapter 11: The unclaimed daughter

Her eyes snapped open before the first rays of dawn broke through the clouds and the crack in the curtains. The silence around her was eerie for a few moments, at least until it was broken by a loud snore as reality came crashing over her head like a tidal wave. There was no Laurel or Alex to wake her, gone as they were to Cabin Seven. She was there by herself. Alone. It didn't matter that there were other children around her because they weren't her half-siblings. A phantom of jealousy closed its hands around her heart once more, and her shoulders drooped at that. She ought to have been happy that Alex and Laurel had been claimed by their father.

She was just bitter enough to wish that she had been claimed too. She hadn't liked being alone, despite the fact that nothing could change the fact that she was alone in her existence, strange as she was and the circumstances which had led to her being born as a daughter of Apollo. There was no one else quite like her, and in that moment she didn't quite like being reminded of that fact. Maybe if she was normal she would have been claimed. Maybe if she was normal she would have been waking up with Laurel and Alexander.

There were too many maybes, and Harriet could only scowl as she wriggled out of her sleeping bag like a butterfly shedding its cocoon. "Another dawn, another day," she muttered, yawning as she tidied her things away as best she could – something of a necessity when it came to Cabin Eleven, if they wanted to pass morning inspections. There were a fair number of campers who always slept on the floors whether claimed or unclaimed.

Gold slipped into her vision, present fading away as the future took its place, showing her the inside of Cabin Seven, and an unused, made bed. It was almost mocking her. She huffed through clenched teeth as present returned to her along with the loud snores of some of Hermes' kids.

Morning air was cool against her skin as she stepped out, a fresh change of clothes tucked under her arm as she ventured off to the showers, making a note that she would need to wash her clothes – however they did that there. Surprisingly there was no gold tinted vision to explain things to her, and Harriet shrugged at that, sniffing at her skin and crinkling her nose up at the sour scent of sweat from yesterday's activities which clung to her.

Idly, she glanced above her head, as if a golden lyre might suddenly appear, but it was cloudy on a midsummer's day and the winds were silent for the meantime. There were no answers for her there and all she could do was hum and make her way to the shower block, garishly orange shirt and green cargo pants in tow. It was quiet in the showers, eerily so, and Harriet only shrugged it off as she shed her sleepwear, leaving her dirty clothes in a trail which led to the stall she chose to occupy.

The water was warm, relief to her aching muscles, and the sound of spraying water masked the odd silence which had unnerved her only slightly. The train in her dreams didn't tend to have much noise, nor were there sights to see. She wondered when she would see the god in her dreams again, absent as he had seemingly been since she had gone to camp. Or at least coming to see her less frequently for one reason or another.

Alone.

He was leaving her alone, and it was odd how much that stung. It was like everyone was leaving her. A snort escaped her before she could think. "Really?" she muttered to herself. "How melodramatic can you get?" she grumbled, reaching for the shampoo as she felt something brush against her leg. Her heart thudded in her chest, and only her years of watching violent deaths had her watching detachedly as a literal snake curled around her foot, forked tongue flickering in and out of its scaled mouth.

"Golden-eyed Daughter of Apollo," it hissed, the familiar rasp of parseltongue grating against her ears as she stared at something her siblings would have been screaming and running away from – no questions asked. Ever was she odd in that respect. She wondered if her history in another life with snakes had offset such a thing which was expected from the children of the sun god. "Namesake sent us to find, and found you I have."