𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝑰𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 ꨄ

F o u r

The following couple of days were a whirl of mayhem in which Luna tried to adjust back to camp schedule. It was tiring, to say the least. She could no longer sleep in as long as she wished, and since the sun rose early, sadly, so did the entire cabin. Between training and her regular visits to help out in the infirmary like she'd promised, at each end of the day she fell on her bed like a stack of heavy, exhausted bricks. 

One morning she had been helping Sherman apply healing salve on his back before breakfast. After spending a night in the Apollo cabin, he'd been released and tasked with no fighting and absolutley no contact with any breast plate or metal until his burn fully scabbed over. Naturally, he'd been miffed about it and insisted that he didn't need to stay idle that long, but the healers in the Apollo cabin shut him up real quick with the promise that his clotting could break and that he'd be bleeding rivers all over again. 

That had been about a week ago. Now, Luna was walking to the training grounds, hair coiled up in two Dutch braids, done in thanks by Cora in return for her help in the infirmary. The basic metal sword in her hand threatened to ruin her good mood, however. She missed her shiny black sword, the white curved half moon it had emblemed on it, how perfectly balanced it felt in her hands. But she also longed for how unique it felt - there was no other weapon like it, and it had been forged specifically for her. Or at least, Luna would like to imagine it had. It didn't seem so far fetched - Nyx's symbol was clear as day, so it couldn't have been for anyone other then her daughter. 

If only she had that sword now. A fresh bout of anger overcame her - she had been so stupid to forget it. And it left her even more frustrated that her father hadn't brought it for her when he'd packed up her stuff - even if he couldn't have possibly known where she'd hidden it. 

Luna scowled at the plain metal beneath her fingers and knew immediately that she wouldn't have much luck with this particular weapon. 

Just as she was about to enter the arena, she almost bumped into a few Apollo campers who had been leaving. They didn't appear to be very pleased, talking among themselves in rapid, angry voices. None of them looked at her as they walked further away, their chatter fading. 

She expected to find the training grounds empty, but Percy was there, sitting on a stool and cleaning Riptide with a cloth. 

He looked up. "Hey," 

"Hey yourself," Luna said back, a small amused smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. She looked behind her.  "Whatever did you do to those Apollo campers to make them so mad?" 

Percy stood up, looking irritated. He turned his back to her and placed his sword on the rack. "If they're upset I'm better then them at sword fighting, then they should take it up with somebody else." 

"You sound like you're upset that they're not as good," She pointed out, raising her brows. 

He sighed, deflating slightly. "I just feel like I should be testing myself against someone who might actually be a challenge. Now more then ever. But I don't get along with any of the Ares kids, and...well, I sort of fell out with Annabeth this morning too." 

Luna understood what he meant. "When you say "Now more then ever" you mean Luke." 

Percy looked up at her, a storm in his green eyes. "No one seems to be taking him seriously. And look what he's done to our camp. What else is he going to have to do before someone goes out to stop him?" 

She hadn't expected this. Suddenly she was alarmed. "You don't...but you're not thinking of going after him yourself, are you?" When there was silence, Luna pressed on. "Because you can't, Percy. Absolutely not."