Chapter Thirteen

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Escape from Polyphemus’ Island

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Snow had never felt such relief and joy seeing a friend alive since Percy fell off that building during their first quest. 

Tyson gave them the short version: Rainbow the hippocampus (something he, Annabeth and Percy used to travel apparently. Lucky.)—who’d apparently been following the three ever since the Long Island Sound, waiting for Tyson to play with him—had found Tyson sinking beneath the wreckage of the CSS Birmingham and pulled him to safety. He and Tyson had been searching the Sea of Monsters ever since, trying to find us, until Tyson caught the scent of sheep and found this island. 

“Tyson, thank the gods! Annabeth is hurt!” 

“You thank the gods she is hurt?” he asked, puzzled.

Snow would have laughed, but she was too busy making sure Annabeth was still alive. 

It didn’t look like it. 

The gash on her forehead looked worrisome, her hairline sticking with blood. Her skin was pale and clammy.

She exchanged nervous looks with Percy and Grover. Percy then perked up. 

“Tyson, the fleece. Can you get it for me?” he asked. 

“Which one?” Tyson said, looking at the hundreds of sheep.

Man, did Snow miss his adorable naivety. “Not literal. He means the gold blanket over there. On the tree.” 

“Oh. Pretty. Yes.” 

Tyson lumbered over, careful to not step on the sheep. The sheep didn’t bother him, just bleating and cuddling him affectionately. He reached up and lifted the Fleece off its branches. Immediately, the leaves on the oak tree turned yellow. Tyson started wadling back towards them, but Percy yelled, “No time! Throw it!” 

The gold ram skin sailed through the air like a glittering frisbee. Percy caught it with a grunt, but almost toppled over if not for Snow helping him up. Guess the Fleece was heavier than it looked. 

Together, they spread it over Annabeth, covering everything but her face. They prayed silently, hoping it would work. The seconds went by like hours, staring at the blonde’s face, waiting for change. Then surely, the colour returned to her face. Her eyes fluttered open. The cut on her forehead began to close. She saw Grover and said weakly, “You’re not… married?”

Grover grinned. “No. My friends talked me out of it.” 

“How do you feel?” asked Snow. 

Annabeth sighed. “Feeling better, but still hurts.” she said while getting up, ignoring Percy’s words to remain laying down.  The cut on her face was almost completely healed. She looked different, better. In fact, she was shimmering in health, as if someone made her glow. 

“Down!” Snow jumped at Tyson’s voice. She looked to where he was and saw the sheep trying to climb him, looking for food. A few were sniffing in their direction. “No sheepies! This way! Come here!” 

They heeded him, but it was obvious they were hungry, and they were starting to realize Tyson didn’t have any treats for them. They wouldn’t hold out forever with so much fresh meat nearby. 

“We have to go,” Percy said. “Our ship is...” The Queen Anne’s Revenge was a very long way away. 

The shortest route was across the chasm, and they’d just destroyed the only bridge. The only other possibility was through the sheep. 

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