Cyrus Acksexon and the Olympic: Electronic Document

We have a limit

For the next few days I got into a routine where she felt normal, if you don't forget I did

he studied satires, nymphs, and belts.

Every morning I would choose the ancient Greek from Annabeth and talk about the gods and goddesses inside.

the current era, which was a bit strange. I found out that Annabeth was right about my dyslexia:

The ancient Greek was not so difficult for me to learn. At least, it's not harder than English. After some

In the morning I managed to stumble across a few rows of Homer without much head.

I was busy with outdoor activities all day, looking for something good.

Chiron tried to teach me how to shoot a rifle, but I found that again I had nothing to do with the bow.

arrow. He did not complain, although he had to shoot an arrow in the tail.

A race? Nothing good. The wooden nymph instructors left me in the dust. They told me not to do that

You're worried about that. For centuries, they practiced fleeing from their beloved gods. But still it was

a slight descent slightly smaller than a tree.

And the fight? Forget it. Every time I got in the car Clarisse pulled me up.

"There's a lot there, bastard," he whispered in my ear.

The only thing I came up with was sailing, and he's not the kind of heroic person.

he was expected to see the child who had beaten the Minotaur.

I knew that the elders of the temple and the great counselors were following me, trying to determine who my father was, but

they did not have an easy time. I was not as strong as the children in Ares nor was I as good at drilling holes as he was

Children of Apollo. I did not have the ability of Hephaestus with iron or - forbidden to the gods - the way of Dionysus

vineyards. Luke told me I could be a child of Hermes, the way most people do, you know nothing. However

I feel like he's trying to add. He didn't really know what to do

or.

Despite all that, I liked the camp. I got used to the morning fog in the harbor, the smell of the heat

in the afternoon fields of strawberries and even the strange sounds of wild animals in the woods at night. I ate

dinner with eleven closets, spit out half the lunch on the fire and try to feel a connection with me

real father. Nothing is coming. It was just the warm feeling I always had, like the memory of her smile. I haven't tried

I thought a lot about my mother, but I kept wondering: if they really were gods and beasts, it would all be

magical things could have happened, there must have been a way to save him, to bring him back. . . .

I began to understand Luke's anger and how he seemed to be angry at Father Hermes. OFFICE,

maybe the gods had important things. But not once could they ring, nor thunder

something? Dionysus can make the Coca Diet breathless. Why my father can't, whoever he is

is, make a phone call?

On Thursday afternoon, three days after arriving at Camp Half-Blood, I had my first sword