🌷 "We're Greek, Percy. We're all born with tragedy in our blood."
The only thing Daphne could ever be sure of was that she was not meant to be alive. Whatever you wanted to call it - a gut feeling or just some serious anxiety, she couldn't shake th...
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chapter IV
🌷 She felt herself loosing balance as soon as she saw - if Annabeth hadn't caught a vice grip around her forearm, she wasn't sure she could stay upright. She didn't know if it was to steady her or Annabeth, but she didn't care. Daphne just stared at the spot she had snuck out to in the middle of so many nights to sleep beside, cuddling up against the tree as though it were her only comfort.
And it was dying.
Daphnes arm was still supporting Percy, but it fell and moved to cover her mouth in a horrified gape. The nectar had luckily healed him enough to stand straight, but the absence of her warmth was still off-putting.
Clarisse and Lee pulled Daphne and Annabeth away from the sight. They marched back to camp, carrying the wounded to the infirmary. They didn't speak much, but Daphne wasn't sure she could've managed words. They carried stretchers of wounded soldiers quietly and watched the hiss of the sun behind them.
On the surface, things didn't look all that different. The Big House was still there with its blue gabled roof and its wraparound porch. The strawberry fields still baked in the sun. The same white-columned Greek buildings were scattered around the valley - the amphitheater, the combat arena, the dining pavilion overlooking Long Island Sound. And nestled between the woods and the creek were the same cabins - a crazy assortment of twelve buildings, each representing a different Olympian god.
But there was an air of danger now. You could tell something was wrong. Instead of playing volleyball in the sandpit, counselors and satyrs were stockpiling weapons in the tool shed. Dryads armed with bows and arrows talked nervously at the edge of the woods. The forest looked sickly, the grass in the meadow was pale yellow, and the fire marks on Half-Blood Hill stood out like ugly scars.
Somebody had messed with Daphnes favorite place in the entire world.
There was a sense of fear between all of the campers. Nobody stopped to talk. Nobody said, "Welcome back.", nobody even smiled. Some did double takes when they saw Tyson, but most just walked grimly past and carried on with their duties - running messages, toting swords to sharpen on the grinding wheels. The camp felt like a military school.
