CHAPTER THREE
—stupid patrol🗡🗡🗡
—JUDITH craned her neck at an awkward angle to see the patch of smooth wood of her bunk as she carved her initials with a throwing knife she found on the ground ( probably one of Sherman's ). Her spine was starting to cramp, but she only had the 'S' left ; she always did her best not to leave just a 'JK.' The rest of the wooden beams and planks were covered in the etchings, most her name, some explicits. The next Ares kid to occupy this bunk would have to wonder who this JKS was until the end of time.
Judith ignored Clarisse and one of her brothers as they stomped in the cabin unceremoniously.
"Get up, we're getting the chariot ready," Clarisse said, tossing a bronze helmet onto her bed and turned to her lounging younger sister.
"I have patrol in five minutes," Judith said, not even looking away from her delicate work. "Besides, we have a long time."
"I want to get the building out of the way so we have more time to train. We don't have experience fighting on a chariot."
Judith let her arms fall and swiveled her head around to stretch it out. "Nobody has any experience on a chariot," she corrected.
Mark, the brother that had come in, shook his head darkly as he leaned against a far wall. "I bet the Apollo kids have that kind of thing in their blood. It'll come naturally to them."
"Yeah," Clarisse agreed with him, "but I don't see them being able to build a chariot from scratch."
"They'll probably bribe the Hephaestus cabin to do it for them," Mark scowled.
Judith shook her head. "Beckendorf wouldn't give in to bribes, especially not from Lee Fletcher. Silena — maybe, but I doubt the Aphrodite kids are participating." She stood to her feet, depositing the throwing knife on back on the ground where she found it instead of putting it with Sherman's belongings. The girl started to put on her lightweight armor. "Anyway, we can start tomorrow, Clarisse." She headed out the door without bidding them farewell, knowing she'd be seeing them later anyway ... unless she died while on patrol. That would suck.
Judith hurried to her designated patrol spot, unwilling to be caught by Tantalus in his push to ban the border patrol groups. Who was he to waltz in and bark orders like he owned the place?
She strutted up half-blood hill, tuning out the clanging sound her sword made every time it bumped her thigh. When she first joined the camp, the ringing sounds that the metals made when hitting each other annoyed her to no end, but she had gotten used to it over time. Soon enough, it became a soothing white noise.
Coming up on the crest of the hill, Judith saw someone examining Thalia's dying tree, one of their hands touching the bark. Briefly glancing at the shriveled up branches, she adjusted the leather on her arm and walked up behind the camper, taking notice of the pen he was fiddling with in his right hand. She could recall only one person who would carry a pen with them everywhere.
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RUINS ; percy jackson ; 1
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