GOLD RUSH ↬ p. jackson x reader {book one}

POLYPHEMUS FINDS A NEW WIFE

IF I HAD LESS SELF CONTROL, I'D MOVE HERE AND DIE HAPPILY.

See, when you think "monster island," you think craggy rocks and bones scattered on the beach like the island of the Sirens.

The Cyclops's island was nothing like that. I mean, okay, it had a rope bridge across a chasm, which was not a good sign. You might as well put up a billboard that said, SOMETHING EVIL LIVES HERE.

But except for that, the place looked like a Caribbean postcard. It had green fields and tropical fruit trees and white beaches. As we sailed toward the shore, Annabeth breathed in the sweet air. "The Fleece," she said.

I realised nobody had really told me why I was here. I could've sworn this was the first time somebody mentioned a Fleece to me. But I could feel its power.

"If we take it away, will the island die?"

Annabeth shook her head. "It'll fade. Go back to what it would be normally, whatever that is."

In the meadow at the base of the ravine, several dozen sheep were milling around. They looked peaceful enough, but they were huge-the size of hippos. Just past them was a path that led up into the hills. At the top of the path, near the edge of the canyon, was the massive oak tree I'd seen in my dreams. Something gold glittered in its branches.

"This is too easy," Percy said. "We could just hike up there and take it?"
Annabeth's eyes narrowed. "There's supposed be a guardian. A dragon or ..."

That's when a deer emerged from the bushes. It trotted into the meadow, probably looking for grass to eat, when the sheep all bleated at once and rushed the animal. It happened so fast that the deer stumbled and was lost in a sea of wool and trampling hooves.

Grass and tufts of fur flew into the air.

A second later the sheep all moved away, back to their regular peaceful wanderings. Where the deer had been was a pile of clean white bones.

My jaw dropped. A strangled observation emerged from my voice box. "They're like piranhas," I said.
"Piranhas with wool. How will we—"

"Wait!" Annabeth gasped, grabbing Percy's arm. "Look." She pointed down the beach, to just below the sheep meadow, where a small boat had been run aground ... the other lifeboat from the CSS Birmingham.

We decided there was no way we could get past the man-eating sheep. Annabeth wanted to sneak up the path invisibly and grab the Fleece, but Percy managed to convince her that something would go wrong. That, in itself, was a powerful skill.

We moored the Queen Anne's Revenge on the back side of the island where the cliffs rose straight up a good two hundred feet. The cliffs looked climbable, barely-about as difficult as the lava wall back at camp.

We rowed a lifeboat to the edge of the rocks and made our way up, very slowly. Annabeth went first because she was the better climber.

We only came close to dying six or seven times, which I thought was pretty good. Once, Percy lost my grip and I found myself dangling by one hand from a ledge fifty feet above the rocky surf. But I found another handhold and kept climbing. Another time, I grabbed at what I thought to be a leafy ledge but turned out to be a resting sea bird. It squawked, pecked me, and I stumbled downwards. Right into the son of Posiedon.

A minute later Annabeth hit a slippery patch of moss and her foot slipped. Fortunately, she found something else to put it against. Unfortunately, that something was my face.

"Sorry," she murmured.
"S'okay," I whimpered.

Finally, when my fingers felt like molten lead and my arm muscles were shaking from exhaustion, we hauled ourselves over the top of the cliff and collapsed.