𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩

Chapter 17

12
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ADVICE POODLE

The group was pretty miserable that night.

  They camped out in the woods, a hundred yards from the main road, in a marshy clearing that local kids had obviously been using for parties. The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast-food wrappers.

  They'd taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's, but they didn't dare light a fire to dry our damp clothes. The Furies and Medusa had provided enough excitement for one day. They didn't want to attract anything else.

  They decided to sleep in shifts. Cyrus volunteered to take first watch.

  Annabeth curled up on the blankets and was snoring as soon as her head hit the ground. (y/n) balled himself into a corner and fell asleep as soon as Benny laid besides him. Percy laid back, looking up at the dark and was out in no time. Grover fluttered with his flying shoes to the lowest bough of a tree, put his back to the trunk, and stared at the night sky.

  "Go ahead and sleep," Cyrus told him. "I'll wake ye if there's trouble."

  He nodded, but still didn't close his eyes. "It makes me sad, Cy."

  "What does? The fact that ye signed up for this stupid quest?"

  "No. This makes me sad." He pointed at all the garbage on the ground. "And the sky. You can't even see the stars. They've polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr."

  "Oh, yeah. I guess ye'd be an environmentalist."

  He glared at Cyrus. "Only a human wouldn't be. Your species is clogging up the world so fast ... ah, never mind. It's useless to lecture a human. At the rate things are going, I'll never find Pan."

  "Pam? Who's Pam?"

  "Pan!" he cried indignantly. "P-A-N. The great god Pan! What do you think I want a searcher's license for?"

  A strange breeze rustled through the clearing, temporarily overpowering the stink of trash and muck. It brought the smell of berries and wildflowers and clean rain-water, things that might've once been in these woods. Suddenly Cyrus was nostalgic for something he'd never known.

  "Tell me about the search," Cyrus said.

  Grover looked at him cautiously, as if he were afraid Cyrus was just poking fun.

  "The God of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago," he told me. "A sailor off the coast of Ephesos heard a mysterious voice crying out from the shore, “Tell them that the great god Pan has died!” When humans heard the news, they believed it. They've been pillaging Pan's kingdom ever since. But for the satyrs, Pan was our lord and master. He protected us and the wild places of the earth. We refuse to believe that he died. In every generation, the bravest satyrs pledge their lives to finding Pan. They search the earth, exploring all the wildest places, hoping to find where he is hidden, and wake him from his sleep."

  "And ye want to be a searcher."

  "It's my life's dream," he said. "My father was a searcher. And my Uncle Ferdinand ... the statue you saw back there–"

  "Oh, right, sorry."

  Grover shook his head. "Uncle Ferdinand knew the risks. So did my dad. But I'll succeed. I'll be the first
searcher to return alive."

  "Hang on–the first?"

  Grover took his reed pipes out of his pocket. "No searcher has ever come back. Once they set out, they disappear. They're never seen alive again."