A web of fates | Percy Jackson and the Olympians

VII| Camp Meetings

The least the Oracle could've done was walk back to the attic by herself.

Instead, Grover and Percy were elected to carry her. Daphne didn't figure that was because they were the most popular.

"Watch her head!" Grover warned as they went up the stairs. But it was too late.

Bonk!

Percy whacked her mummified face against the trapdoor frame and dust flew.

"Well done, mate." Daphne gave him a round of applause.

"Ah, man." Percy set her down and checked for damage. "Did I break anything?"

"I can't tell," Grover admitted.

"How lovely." Then suddenly a thought occurred to Daphne. "Reckon I can convince Tina to give her a makeover?"

Percy laughed. "The whole Aphrodite Cabin would volunteer, not just Valentina."

"Very true."

They hauled her up and set her on her tripod stool, both of them huffing and sweating. Who knew a mummy could weigh so much?

Daphne was glad she hadn't been elected to carry her, she was just there for moral support. Daphne was relieved when they finally got out of there and slammed the attic door shut.

"Well," Grover said, "that was gross."

"What will Chiron do?" Percy asked Grover.

"I wish I knew." He looked wistfully out the second-floor window at the rolling hills covered in snow. "I want to be out there."

"Searching for Annabeth?" Daphne asked, knowing he probably hadn't even thought of their friend.

Satyrs were far too obsessed with Artemis.

He had a little trouble focusing on her. Then he blushed. "Oh, right. That too. Of course."

"Why?" Daphne asked. "What were you thinking?"

He clopped his hooves uneasily. "Just something the manticore said, about the Great Stirring. I can't help but wonder... if all those ancient powers are waking up, maybe ... maybe not all of them are evil."

"You mean Pan."

The nature god had gone missing two thousand years ago. He was rumored to have died, but the satyrs didn't believe that.

They were determined to find him. They'd been searching in vain for centuries, and Grover was convinced he'd be the one to succeed.

This year, with Chiron putting all the satyrs on emergency duty to find half-bloods, Grover hadn't been able to continue his search. It must've been driving him nuts.

"I've let the trail go cold," he said. "I feel restless, like I'm missing something really important. He's out there somewhere. I can just feel it."

Daphne didn't know what to say. She wanted to encourage him, but she didn't know how.

Her optimism had pretty much been trampled into the snow out there in the woods, along with their capture-the-flag hopes.

Before she could respond, Thalia tromped up the stairs. She was officially not talking to Daphne or Percy now, but she looked at Grover and said, "Tell Daphne and Percy to get their butt downstairs."

"Why?" Percy asked.

"Real mature, Grace." Daphne rolled her eyes. "So mature. You're acting like Oliver when I stole his sword for a week."

"Did they say something?" Thalia asked Grover.

"Um, he asked why and Daphne said real mature and how you're acting like Oliver when she stole his sword for a week. How'd you even manage that?"