madness and ecstasy // leo valdez

-spit soup-

Bob stopped suddenly. "Look."

Teqi nearly walked straight into the back of Bob's legs, and Annabeth had to yank the vines back to pull the daughter of Dionysus back.

Ahead in the gloom, the terrain levelled out into a black swamp. Sulphur-yellow mist hung in the air. Even without sunlight, there were actual plants – clumps of reeds, scrawny leafless trees, even a few sickly-looking flowers blooming in the muck. Mossy trails wound between bubbling tar pits.

Directly in front of Annabeth, sunk into the bog, were footprints the size of trashcan lids, with long, pointed toes. Annabeth was pretty sure she knew what had made them, but she didn't want to be right. "Drakon?"

"Yes." Bob smiled down at her. "That is good!"

"Uh ... why?"

"Because we are close."

Bob marched into the swamp.

Annabeth wanted to scream. She also wanted to cry. Then she wanted to go home and cry a bit more. She hated being at the mercy of a Titan – especially one who was slowly recovering his memory and bringing them to see a 'good' giant. She hated forging through a swamp that was obviously the stomping ground of a drakon to search for someone who would probably eat her.

But Bob had Percy. If she hesitated, she would lose them in the dark. She hurried after him, pulling Teqi along behind her, hopping from moss patch to moss patch and praying to Athena that she didn't fall in a sinkhole.

It was a bit harder with Teqi, Annabeth would have to drag her along in the right direction then hold her to redirect her in another direction, to avoid the pair dying via bubbling hot liqiuds in the ground that was most likely stomach acid.

At least the terrain forced Bob to go more slowly. Once Annabeth caught up and Teqi stopped giggling, they could walk right behind him and Annabeth could keep an eye on Percy, who was muttering deliriously, his forehead dangerously hot. Several times he mumbled 'Annabeth' and she fought back a sob. Then he whispered something about wanting to give someone donuts. The kitten just purred louder and snuggled up.

Finally, the yellow mist parted, revealing a muddy clearing like an island in the muck. The ground was dotted with stunted trees and wart mounds. In the centre loomed a large, domed hut made of bones and greenish leather. Smoke rose from a hole in the top. The entrance was covered with curtains of scaly reptile skin.

What really caught Annabeth's attention was the drakon skull. Fifty yards into the clearing, about halfway to the hut, a massive oak tree jutted from the ground at a forty-five-degree angle. The jaws of a drakon skull encircled the trunk, as if the oak tree were the dead monster's tongue.

"Yes," Bob murmured simply. "This is very good."

Nothing about this place felt good to Annabeth.

Before she could protest, Small Bob arched his back and hissed, his fur puffing up and giving him the scariness factor of a Squishmellow. Behind them, a mighty roar echoed through the swamp – a sound Annabeth had last heard in the Battle of Manhattan.

She tried to push down memories, but the bitter smell of poison and the sound of a certain Daughter of Ares yells washed over her without mercy. Annabeth's hands started to shake.

She turned and saw the drakon charging towards them.

It was the most beautiful thing Annabeth had seen since she had fallen into Tartarus. Its hide was dappled green and yellow, like sunlight through a forest canopy. Its reptilian eyes were Annabeth's favourite shade of sea green.