Wildflowers, Percy Jackson ₁

023, CLOCK IT APHRODITE

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

₊˚࿐࿔ 𖥧‧₊⚘ ❀༉. 𓏲｡

They rode the boar until sunset, which was about as much as Sylvie's back could take. Imagine riding a giant steel brush over a bed of gravel all day. That's how uncomfortable boar-riding was.

Sylvie had no idea how many miles they covered, but the mountains faded into the distance and were replaced by miles of flat, dry land. The grass and shrub brushes got sparser until they were galloping (do boars gallop?) across the desert.

As night fell, the boar came to a stop at a creek bed and snorted. He started drinking the muddy water, then ripped a saguaro cactus out of the ground and chewed it, needles and all.

"This is as far as he'll go," Grover said. "We need to get off while he's eating."

Nobody needed convincing. They slipped off the boar's back while he was busy ripping up cacti. Then they waddled away as best as they could with their saddle sores.

After its third saguaro and another drink of muddy watter, the boar squealed and belched, then whirled around and galloped back toward the east.

"It likes the mountains better," Percy guessed.

"I can't blame it," Thalia said. "Look."

Ahead of them was a two-lane road half covered with sand. On the other side of the road was a cluster of buildings too small to be a town: a boarded-up house, a taco shop that looked like it hadn't been open since before Zoë Nightshade was born, and a white stucco post office with a sign that said GILA CLAW, ARIZONA hanging crooked above the door. Beyond that was a range of hills... but then Sylvie noticed they weren't regular hills. The countryside was way too flat for that. The hills were enormous mounds of old cars, appliances, and other scrap metal. It was a junkyard that seemed to go on forever.

"Woah," Sylvie said.

"Something tells me we're not going to find a car rental here," Thalia said. She looked at Grover. "I don't suppose you've got another wild boar up your sleeve?"

Grover was sniffing the wind, looking nervous. He fished out his acorns and threw them into the sand, then played his pipes. They rearranged themselves in a pattern that made no sense to Sylvie, but Grover looked concerned.

"That's us," he said. "Those six nuts right there."

"Which one is me?" Percy asked.

"The little deformed one," Zoë suggested. Sylvie laughed.

"Oh, shut up."

"That cluster right there," Grover said, pointing to the left, "that's trouble."

"A monster?" Thalia asked.