WITCHY WOMAN — percy doesn't care about ancient laws
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Percy stayed one last night in Cabin Eleven and moved into Cabin Three in the morning — Poseidon's cabin.
Rory could tell that morning that he was miserable. She tried to make him feel better: "You get an actual bed! You don't have to worry about me stepping on you again!" She could tell he appreciated it, but she also knew it didn't help.
They continued their Ancient Greek lessons each morning. She tried hard to make it enjoyable, but a lot of her efforts were futile. Especially on the mornings when Annabeth would sit in on the lessons.
She was always distracted — and this distracted them. Any time Percy said something, she scowled at him, as if he had just poked her between the eyes. After lessons, she would walk away muttering to herself: "Quest... Poseidon?... For fuck's sake... Got to make a plan..."
After capture the flag, Annabeth had sat down with Rory and Chiron, who explained almost everything to her. Rory apologized to her friend about avoiding her, but Annabeth forgave her, telling her she probably would have done the same thing, and they moved on.
Perks of a five year friendship, Rory supposed.
Nobody mentioned the hellhound, but Rory heard plenty of campers talking about it behind Percy's back. The attack had scared everybody. It sent two messages: one, that Percy was the son of the Sea God; and two, monsters would stop at nothing to kill him. They could even invade a camp that had always been considered safe.
The other campers steered clear of Percy as much as possible. Cabin Eleven was too nervous to have sword class with him after what he had done to the Ares kids in the woods, so his lessons with Luke became one on one. Sometimes Rory would accompany them, which she knew Percy preferred because she went easier on him.
One morning, Rory had woken up unusually early — for her, at least — and felt strangely claustrophobic. She changed quickly and avoided stepping on any half-bloods as she snuck out of Cabin Eleven. Outside, over the Long Island Sound, the sky looked like ink soup coming to a boil. A hazy curtain of rain was coming in the direction of the camp.
Usually this wouldn't bother Rory, as the magic borders of camp prevented storms from entering — but that usually meant natural storms. This storm wasn't natural. It was a battle between Zeus and Poseidon, who knows what would happen.
Rory walked through the camp, with no intended direction.
At the volleyball pit, the kids from Apollo's cabin were playing a morning game against the satyrs. Dionysus' twins were walking around in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow. Everybody was going about their normal business, but they looked tense. They kept their eyes on the storm.
On the front porch of the Big House, at the pinochle table sat Chiron, Grover, and Percy. They were engaged in a pretty heated discussion, given the somber expressions.
