a story as endless as the ocean . pjo / allie jackson

1.2 committing a felony (don't do this)

1.2 Blow Torching a National Monument So Badly, I Could Be Tried for Arson (Even Though It Literally Wasn't My Fault)

I could safely say we were all miserable that night. None of us liked the thought of spending the night in a place where we had just killed the only occupant, so instead, we spent the night camped out in the woods a few miles away.

The clearing we settled down in was obviously a frequent gathering point for the local kids to hang around. It was about a hundred yards from the main road and rather marshy. The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast-food wrappers. We spent a few minutes piling the garbage together so we could dump it in a trash can tomorrow on Luke's suggestion.

It was easily the worst place that I'd ever spent the night, but with the snug sleeping bags we'd taken from Camp, it wasn't too bad. We'd decided against a fire. The Furies and Medusa were enough for one day, and a fire would most definitely bring more unwanted visitors.

I kind of regretted it, cause frankly, I was freezing, but again, I'd had enough of fighting for today. Well, for the rest of my existence really, but I didn't exactly have a choice in that matter. My father had seen to that very firmly.

I volunteered for the first watch, and Luke gave only a moment's objection before he fell fast asleep. Grover, however, simply laid down, staring up at the sky with a brooding expression.

"Regretting ever meeting me?" I asked as lightly as I could. Really though, I wouldn't blame him for it if he was. Tyche definitely had some sort of grudge against me. On the other hand, I did manage to survive all the shit I went through, so maybe she actually liked me. Something to dwell on at another time, I guess.

Grover startled out of his thoughts, turning to stare at me and shake his head wildly.

"Don't be ridiculous, Allie!" he objected. "You're my best friend, I love you. It just... it makes me so sad. And mad. I'm mad about it too."

I frowned at him. "What makes you sad?" I pressed. "Can I help?"

The side of his lip quirked up briefly before falling again, his frown returning. "This makes me sad," he gestured at the rubbish pile and up at the sky. "I mean just look at the sky. You can't even see the stars. They've polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr."

I bit my lip. I knew already that Grover was an environmentalist, but he talked about this with so much emotion, feeling guilty seemed to be my only option. For what, I wasn't exactly sure.

"I'm sorry," I finally ventured. "I guess it must be really hard for a nature spirit to see this sort of stuff. We'll dump it tomorrow."

He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. "Do you know what a searcher's license is?"

I shook my head. "Not really," I admitted freely, not worrying about my lack of knowledge on the subject. "I just know that your family has a tradition of getting them, and you'll only get yours if we succeed in the quest."

I cocked my head to the side for a moment as a breeze wafted through the clearing. It was fresh and sweet and brought with it the smell of berries and clean air. Suddenly, I was nostalgic for something I didn't know.

"Tell me about it," I requested quietly.

Grover gave me a studying look, like he was trying to decide if I was worthy of knowing about his dream or not. I must've been, because he nodded, straightening and beginning to explain. "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—"