ɪ'ʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴇꜱᴄᴀᴘᴇ

Hope is a Delicate Thing

PERCY TORE A STRIP off his shirt. He gently scooped a handful of the golden sand that had once been his friend, carefully pouring it into the ratty fabric before tying it into a small bag, which he tucked into his remaining pocket.

He picked up Bob's broom-spear with some difficulty, seeing as it was taller than he was. However, he refused to leave it here, where some sort of monster might eat it or something.

"I'll tell the sun and the stars hello." Percy whispered, before staring down a strange hill.

It was the sort of hill that Percy would have gladly slid down, if not for the random spikes and wart like lumps all down it. Oh, and the slime. Yeah, he didn't really want to slide into a patch of slime, though with all the filth on him now, it probably wouldn't make much of a difference.

He trudged past pillars of rock and patches of slime, avoiding the spikes in fear of his foot getting impaled. The darkness seemed to be lessening, but it was hard to tell. Everything in Tartarus was pretty dark.

After a while, Percy realized that the terrain had changed. It was wetter, less spiky and full of mucky mud, full of strange vegetation. It was like a demented version of a swamp.

He passed a gnarled black tree, giving an involuntary shudder as he spotted the skeleton. The tree looked as if it had been shoved straight down the creature's throat and left to grow there as the corpse of what looked suspiciously like a drakon rotted.

Great. The last thing he needed was a drakon. In his current state, sore, covered in gashes and bleeding from places he didn't even know he could bleed from, he was in no condition to fight a single dracaena, let alone a drakon.

The moment he finished his thought, the ground shook violently and rumbled.

"Oh, great. I jinxed it." Percy muttered to himself.

He reached for his sword, but hood fingers scrambled frantically over tattered fabric and bloodied skin with no sign of the jagged bone.

Finally coming to the conclusion that he must have accidentally left it behind, he drew out Bob's broom. It was awkward, ridiculously large, and probably weighted as much as he did, but it was better than nothing.

The rumbling got louder as the ground trembled under his feet. Raising the broom-spear, he readied himself for some kind of huge monster.

Then, out of the darkness, he heard a faint "mrrow?"

He spun around, eyes wide. Could he have imagined it?

He heard it again, the faint mewling of a distressed animal. Just as he was about to investigate, he saw a tiny tabby kitten (Small Bob is a tabby, right??) purring on the ground.

The tabby flopped over, and Percy reached over to stroke it. It was just a kitten, right? ( that's the kind of thinking that gets you killed Seaweed Brain)

Just then, the cat disappeared, and in its place stood a huge skeleton of a saber-toothed tiger, long fangs protruding from its mouth.

Percy lept back in shock, gripping Bob's broom in his blistered, calloused hands. As abruptly as it had happened, the giant skeleton vanished, leaving the kitten in its place.

Wait... he knew this cat. In the Smithsonian Museum, some of the bewitched mortals had been instructed to raise some spartoi, but had accidentally brought some skeleton cats to life instead. Apparently, they had been killed, and this was one of them.

The tabby looked up at him with big wide eyes, and Percy couldn't help himself. He scooped up the kitten in his arms, where it climbed up his back and nestled itself on his shoulder.

The little cat reminded him of Bob. Sweet and innocent in such a cruel world.

"You're a good little monster, aren't you?" Percy asked the kitten.

"Purrrrr..." the cat agreed.

"Come on... Small Bob. Let's do this together." He whispered.

The tabby meowed softly, like he agreed with the name. Percy smiled.

Maybe, even down here in the pit of hell, there was some hope after all.

Then, he heard a hissing sound and the thunderous stomp of feet. Great, he'd jinxed it. Again.

~🌊