Those blue eyes. A.C x oc fem

3.8- I don't get the DAM hype

○○○○○○○○Percy Jackson○○○○○○○

At the edge of the dump, we found a tow truck so old it might've been thrown away itself. But the engine started, and it had a full tank of fuel, so we decided to 'borrow' it.

Thalia drove. She didn't seem as stunned as Zoë or Vic or Grover or me.

"The skeletons are still out there," she reminded us. "We need to keep moving."

She navigated us through the desert, under clear blue skies, the sand so bright it hurt to look at it. Zoë sat up front with Thalia. Grover, Vic and I sat in the back, leaning against the tow winch. The air was cool and dry, but the nice weather just seemed like an insult after losing Bianca.

Vic's hand closed around the little figurine that had cost Bianca her life. None of us couldn't even tell what god it was supposed to be. Nico would know.

Oh, gods... what was I going to tell Nico?

I wanted to believe that Bianca was still alive somewhere. But I had a bad feeling that she was gone for good.

"It should've been me," I said. "I should've gone into the giant."

"No," Vic shook her head sadly. "I should've gone inside. I've been doing this for longer."

"Don't say that! Both of you!" Grover panicked. "It's bad enough Annabeth is gone, and now Bianca. Do you think I could stand it if..." He sniffled. "Do you think anybody else would be my best friends?"

"Ah, Grover..."

"Grov..."

He wiped under his eyes with an oily cloth that left his face grimy like he had war paint on. "I'm... I'm okay."

But he wasn't okay. Ever since the encounter in New Mexico - whatever had happened when that wild wind blew through - he seemed really fragile, even more emotional than usual. I was afraid to talk to him about it, because he might start bawling.

And Vic... well, she was doing better than Grover, but that isn't saying much. She kept looking out the window, but there wasn't much to look at. I had a feeling she was deep in thought. She also was... very still. Too still. There was no fidgeting with her ring, or drumming her fingers or tapping her foot. I had never seen her so still. Usually, thanks to her ADHD she's never still for too long.

At least there's one good thing about having a goat friend who gets freaked out more than you do. I realized I couldn't stay depressed. I had to set aside thinking about Bianca and keep us going forward, the way Thalia was doing. I wondered what she and Zoë were talking about in the front of the truck.

The tow truck ran out of fuel at the edge of a river canyon. That was just as well,
because the road dead-ended.

Thalia got out and slammed the door. Immediately, one of the tyres blew.
"Great. What now?"

I scanned the horizon. There wasn't much to see. Desert in all directions, occasional clumps of barren mountains plopped here and there. The canyon was the only thing interesting. The river itself wasn't very big, maybe a hundred sixty-five feet across, green water with a few rapids, but it carved a huge scar out of the desert.

The rock cliffs dropped away below us.

"There's a path," Grover said. "We could get to the river."

I tried to see what he was talking about, and finally noticed a tiny ledge winding down the cliff face.

"That's a goat path," I said.

"So?" he asked.

"The rest of us aren't goats."