Where Heroes Unite (Rewrite)

Chapter 6: Opportunity on the Frontier

Frank waded through snow up to his knees, blinking through the falling sleet. The wolf trudged ahead of him, its tail whipping in the merciless wind.

He stopped; wait, why wasn't he at camp? No, that was the night before. He'd been in the snow already, and had found . . . what was it?

"This isn't right," Frank said. "I shouldn't be here; not again."

The wolf turned, sitting with its tail curled around its paws. The ground steamed around it, clearing until only the gray permafrost remained.

"You shouldn't be here at all," the wolf said.

Frank was used to wolves talking through his mind—after all, he trained with Lupa herself before stumbling to Camp Jupiter. This one, however, had a much deeper, masculine voice, and not nearly as intimidating as the Great She Wolf. It invoked a similar emotion in Frank, but instead of fear there was . . . motivation? Perhaps not the best word, but Frank had bigger things to worry about than his vocabulary. For example, frostbite.

The son of Mars scanned the horizon, only there was no horizon to see. Just snow, snow, and snow for kilometers, stretching out endlessly. He was beginning to hate that word—snow. If it wasn't for the heat dripping down his fingers, he would not have remembered warmth.

The wolf tilted its snout downward. Frank followed its—his?—gaze to his arm, as torn and gruesome as ever.

He huffed. "I can see we haven't much time. I'm sorry this happened in the first place, demigod."

"What do you mean by—"

The bird woman's face flashed before him. She lowered a hot, wet rag to his face, an herbal smell assaulting his nose. Her words escaped him, though the furrow in her brow deepened as she spoke. Frank hoped she wasn't putting him out of his misery; she seemed angry enough.

Frank returned to the mountain, flat on his back and bleeding once more. The wolf was almost nose to nose with him, his glowing red eye regarding him with concern. Maybe this wolf was dedicated to breaking Frank's impression of Lupa's pack.

The demigod grabbed the side of the wolf's face, not unlike how one would begin to scratch a dog's ear. The wolf didn't move, but his eye did drop to the blood seeping through his golden fur.

"Lupa—" another vision of the bird woman, bloody bandages between her hand-feathers, "—she needs to know where I am. If you find her, maybe she can get to Camp Jupiter—"

The wolf stared at him blankly.

Frank felt a sob growing in his throat. "P-please. You have to know who Lupa is. Right?"

He shook his head. Frank's hand fell from his face. "I only know your kind by your power, demigod. I'm sorry." He prodded his shoulder as Frank began to cry, his tears freezing as they fell.

The pain sparking up his arm did nothing for his anguish, instead amplifying it as the agony along his flesh and bone tightened. Whoever that bird woman was, Frank almost wished she'd kill him if it meant escaping the pain. But going hand-in-hand with it all was the sight of Hazel and his friends, all seated on the Argo II, joking about their doom. . . .

"You're laughing," the wolf deadpanned.

Frank could not answer him, as he had no answer for himself either. The wolf continued to watch him, its gold fur melting into brown feathers every few seconds.