Silenced (Demigod Story)

The Small Flower

Once I took my first step out of the mess hall, I sprinted to the Demeter cabin as if Rue was in danger in there.  I flew up the steps and slammed the door behind me.

My feet took my up the stairs and directly to my bed.  The bag used on my last quest of saving Olive sat on top of the messy green sheets.  Chiron must’ve had it brought to my bed when I left it at the Big House on accident, I figured.

I unzipped the bag, turned it upside down, then shook it so all of the contents came out and piled on top of each other.  Once my bag was empty, I picked my large poetry book from on top of the pile.  The golden music note on the cover glittered beautifully; I just had to stare at its glory for a few moments.

The sound of a crowd of feet pounding into the cabin snapped me out of my daze.

“Is anyone in here?!” a commanding female voice shouted from down stairs.

I stayed quiet, deciding that I might avoid trouble by not speaking.  “I swear that I saw a girl run into here a few minutes ago,” someone promised.

There was a few seconds of complete silence until someone spoke again.  “She must be hiding,” the leading voice decided.  “You three, stay down here and make sure to set the rest of the cabin on guard around the camp.  I’ll check out the second floor.”

My eyes scanned the room for a place to hide, but I couldn’t find one.  The only things in the room were about thirty beds that were only two inches off the ground so there was no way that I could squeeze myself under.  Let’s not even try to imagine me trying to fit into the dressers.  Other than that, the only thing that I could do would be to hide in a plant that I would have to grow.  But to the risk of being caught magically growing a plant would just make EVERYTHING worse.

Before I could even make a decision of what to do, I was interrupted.  “Who are you and what are you doing here?” someone demanded to know.

I quickly glanced over my shoulder and then back at my poetry book in front of me.  The girl looked to be around the age of 17, possibly 18.  For all I know, she could be 29 because I am probably the worst age guesser that you could imagine.  Her light blonde hair was in a high ponytail, giving her a nerdy/rebel look.  The part of her that I noticed the most was her gray fierce eyes.  Even as I stared at the poetry book that was in my hands, I could feel her eyes focusing on my neck as if she had laser vision.  “I’m Floret, daughter of Demeter,” I told her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“I’m unpacking,” I lied, pretending to go through the stuff that I had dumped on my bed.  “What’s your name?”

“Annabeth, daughter of Athena, goddess of war,” she answered.  “Have you had lunch?”

Usually, someone would be confused of why someone was questioning them and asking them if they had any lunch, but I knew exactly what she was referring to.  “Yeah.”

Annabeth walked to my side to see what I was going through.  Her eyes drifted to the shiny cover of my poetry book and she asked, “What is that?”