Daughter of Poseidon

Pinochle

I had some crazy dreams. I dreamt that I was in the sea, when the waves would do whatever I asked, turning into beautiful shapes. It was night-time, with a full moon, the water catching the light and glistening and gleaming prettily like crystals. Weird though, who could control the waves apart from the gods?

I woken up quite a few times and when I did, my head ached and vision blurred until I simply passed out again. I sort of remember being fed ambrosia pudding which tasted like shortbread cookies; by some girl. I think it was Annabeth. When she saw my eyes open, she started to bombard me with questions. They didn't make much sense in my sleep-clogged state, one sounding a bit like: "Hogs are nice, especially with relish. Do you like ginger?" It later transpired that this wasn't the case.

I managed to whisper, "what the heck?"

Then I blacked out again, with the odd sensation of someone smearing stuff on my mouth. I'd always been taught that, medically, it was dangerous to feed someone when they were unconsious, but when it came to demi-gods, we're probably just immune. Or very lucky . . .

When I finally came round for good, I woke up in a bed with a blue patterned blanket tucked around me, and several pillows propping me up. I was in a wood cabin and there were quite a lot of other twin beds here, with pretty curtains on the windows, where sunshine was streaming in, and bunches of flowers everywhere. I felt sorry for the kids who had hayfever.

"Anya." A familiar voice said.

When I tried to turn around to get a better view, I felt my arms and head screaming in protest. I had a mother of killer headaches. Then I remembered what had happened. Luke was sitting on the bed next to me in, wearing cutoffs, sandals and a bright orange T-shirt that said 'Camp Half-Blood'. There was only one unsettling difference from the last time I had seen him. He now had a thick white scar that ran from his eye to his jaw; I wondered how he got it.

"Hey," I said, my voice coming out croaky.

"How do you feel?"

"Weird. Good but weak."

"That's probably the ambrosia working; you seemed pretty bad when we brought you in."

"How long have I been out?"

"A few days, we were beginning to worry you wouldn't wake up. After all, you did slam your head pretty hard."

My mouth was dry and nasty, so when I spotted the tall drink on the table next to me I reached for it with quite a lot of gusto. My hand, however, had other ideas and chose that moment to go weak and floppy, so I nearly dropped the glass. The golden liquid inside sloshed against the rim.

"Careful, don't strain yourself. Here."

He sat down on my bed and helped me hold my glass, and I drank in the all too familiar taste of nectar. To me, it tasted like pancakes. Pancakes fresh off the pan with maple syrup and sugar sprinkled on top and lemon squeezed over it, just like the ones my mum used to make. Drinking it made me feel full of energy, but also filled with grief - it was the last meal that my mum had made me before she died. Before I knew it, the glass was empty. I wanted more, but knew that that wasn't a good idea.

"Is that better?" Luke asked.

I gave a sort of half grunt, half nod.

"Well, welcome to the infirmary. Can you remember what happened?"

"I think so," I said, "I was running from the monsters and they had me cornered on the hill, but then some people came and fought them off and I think you carried me here. But that's it. How did you guys find me anyway?"

"We had patrols running, and the sound of all those monsters was pretty hard to miss, eh?"

"I guess. It sounded like the worst orchestra in the world, and I couldn't hold them off."