cacoethes |PERCY JACKSON| [book 2]

XXIII

THEY TRIED FOR WHAT SEEMED LIKE HOURS, but it was no good. The boulder wouldn't move. They yelled into the cracks, tapped on the rock, did everything they could think of to get a signal to Grover, but if he heard them, they couldn't tell.

Even if by some miracle they managed to kill Polyphemus, it wouldn't do them any good. Grover and Clarisse would die inside that sealed cave. The only way to move the rock was to have the Cyclops do it.

In total frustration, Percy stabbed Riptide against the boulder. Sparks flew, but nothing else happened. A large rock is not the kind of enemy you can fight with a magic sword.

The three of them sat on the ridge in despair and watched the distant baby-blue shape of the Cyclops as he moved among his flocks. He had wisely divided his regular animals from his man-eating sheep, putting each group on either side of the huge crevice that divided the island. The only way across was the rope bridge, and the planks were much too far apart for sheep hooves.

They watched as Polyphemus visited his carnivorous flock on the far side. Unfortunately, they didn't eat him. In fact, they didn't seem to bother him at all. He fed them chunks of mystery meat from a great wicker basket, as if they were house pets who did tricks.

"Trickery," Annabeth decided. "We can't beat him by force, so we'll have to use trickery."

"Okay," Percy said, "What trick?'

"I haven't figured that part out yet."

"Great."

"Polyphemus will have to move the rock to let the sheep inside."

"At sunset," Selena stated, "Which is when he'll marry Clarisse and have Grover for dinner. I'm not sure which is grosser."

"I could get inside," she said, "invisibly."

"What about us?" Percy asked,

"The sheep," Annabeth mused. She gave them one of those sly looks that always made Selena wary. "How much do you like sheep?"

That's how Selena and Percy ended up underneath the sheep. Literally. 

Now, the sheep didn't care that much. The sheep didn't care. Even the Cyclops's smallest sheep were big enough to support their weight, and they had thick wool. Selena just twirled the stuff into handles for her hands, hooked her feet against the sheep's thigh bones, and presto—She felt like a baby wallaby, riding around against the sheep's chest, trying to keep the wool out of her mouth and her nose.

"Just don't let go!" Annabeth said, standing invisibly somewhere off to Selena's right. 

Selena glared, "Easy for you to say, Annie." She wasn't hanging upside down from the belly of a sheep.

In case you're wondering, the underside of a sheep doesn't smell that great. Imagine a winter sweater that's been dragged through the mud and left in the laundry hamper for a week.