Golden Animals

Running

Panic seized the two of them as the light flash dashed around New Rome, clutching Frank's lifeline. They must've looked like total idiots, running around after something others barely saw.

As they passed the guardian statue-god, Terminus, Frank grabbed his bow and quiver. Hazel went for her spatha. Frank launched a volley of arrows at the golden thing, but it was too fast.

As it went into Camp Jupiter, the two were out of breath. Hazel supported her hands by her knees. 'What is that?'

'I don't know,' Frank replied. 'But we should get it fast.'

Just then, something swooped down. As fast, it rose again to the sky beside them in a flash of gold. Hazel's hand was empty.

'My spatha!' She was really getting frustrated now. What was it, the international day of golden stuff thievery?

'It's veering towards the Little Tiber. Let's cut off its way.' Frank estimated.

It took them seconds to reach the river's bridge. A memory flashed in their minds of the day each of them had arrived at camp.

They shook it off. Frank morphed into a hawk, waiting for the flying figure. Hazel stood under him, ready to grab the other thing.

Unfortunately, they weren't fast enough. Frank's target flew just beneath him before he could react. It dove straight to the tunnel.

Hazel wasn't doing better. The golden flash went between her legs. It, too, went for the tunnel.

'Schist,' she muttered under her breath. The two went after the flashes. Frank- still as a hawk- took Hazel on his back as they flew other the vast forests of California.

The golden flashes zigzagged through the trees. Frank's improved eyesight located a point where he could capture one of them, the other close behind. He decended, Hazel grabbing his spear, ready to aim.

Only if Frank was aiming.

They broke through the tree leaves. The flash right before them. Hazel threw the spear. Again, they were too late. The blade impaled itself on a tree trunk. Their target was gone.

Frank turned back to himself. He bit his lip. 'I can't believe they got away, whatever they were.'

Now, their day couldn't have gotten worse. Frank's lifeline was in danger and Hazel's spatha was stolen. Both of them were drenched in sweat, and the spear tip hardly left the bark.

So much for one day off.