Falling for You

Percy: III

Percy: III

There were some right ugly suckers in Tartarus, thought Percy, stepping over a sleeping hellhound as carefully as he could.

He was deep in stealth mode; it was still a long way until the river Styx. Bob had told him that the river Phlegethon (not phlegm, as it turned out) flowed throughout the whole pit, especially close to the Doors. Which made it so much harder to keep going in the direction they were going, namely away from said river. In fact, Percy hadn't seen it in what felt like weeks. The Styx was far away in practically the opposite direction. Once he got there, he'd have to double back, assuming he would have any sense of direction in the black and endless void that surrounded him. At least Bob knew a shortcut to Styx.

But what he had failed to mention, however, was where this shortcut went through.

Hand on his sword, Percy stepped over another snoozing hellhound.

They were unnaturally huge, lying around in the small chasm he walked through, their snores like the rumbling of thunder. The fact that their fur was pitch black did not help, as the light was even more limited where he was. The dim glow of his sword would illuminate a claw or a fang here and there, just enough light for him to clench his teeth and veer his foot out of the way. The smell of blood and dirt lay in Percy's nose. Every now and then, one would snort in its sleep, and Percy would freeze, ready to strike at the first sign of those glowing red eyes.

Percy sucked in a low breath as a tail the size of a boa constrictor sleepily flicked in his direction. He felt a pang of loss for Mrs. O'Leary. She'd deal with them far better than he could. So would Bob.

Bob's size had prevented him from walking down the narrow ravine of jutting rocks, so he had to take a different way, and with his enormous strides, would probably beat Percy to their rendezvous point. Wherever that was. Percy had been too busy killing a manticore trying to rip up his face to listen to what Bob had mumbled to himself.

He was sure that he'd turn up at some point. He prayed he would. Percy needed him in order to get to Styx. He wasn't sure what would happen after. This was all about getting back to Annabeth, and Percy wasn't here to make friends. He felt like being alone, while dangerous, was slightly better; he'd learned to watch his own back and having a Titan watching it instead didn't exactly make him feel secure. Sure, Bob was nice, but Percy couldn't forget how hard Iapetus had tried to kill him and his friends. Bob was his friend. For now.

Not picking his feet up the whole way worked well to not cause any loud stomping noises to give him away. But, as Percy winced, it didn't help when there were loose rocks lying around, practically invisible in the black air.

He watched in horror as his foot booted a small stone a few feet, unable to stop it.

The stone hit the ground one, twice, three times before settling, the clattering noise hammering into his head with each bounce.

"Rrrr…"

Out the corner of his wide eyes, Percy saw a hellhound rise from its previous slump. It shook its shaggy head, facing the other way. It hadn't noticed him yet. Others around him were stirring too, the environment coming alive and rippling around him. He had seconds at the most. Scanning desperately, not moving as to not alert the drowsy beasts, Percy quickly mapped out a way to climb up to the top of the ravine in his head. He'd jump onto the low ledge, climb, and then he'd have to pull himself up the rest of the way. He'd follow the cliff edge until the end. The hellhound closest to him sniffed the air audibly, and a giant head started tilting around in his direction.