Several days had passed since Percy had awoken from his medically induced slumber and became an official member of Cabin Eleven. He seemed to be adjusting to Camp Half-blood quite well, in Willow's honest opinion. At each meal time, Percy had taken to sitting beside Willow, for she was one of the only campers who had shown him unconditional kindness upon their first meeting. And for some reason, he'd been sticking around her since that night.

  Percy thought she was something akin to a miracle in the way she anwsered his questions no matter how ridiculous they were. Still, she seemed no-less reserved but not at all bothered by his presence. They would often sit in silence together during the cabin's daily activities and he found this rather soothing. When things were too chaotic for his youthful mind to register, he appreciated the silence they shared. Something about her silent yet friendly demeanor was comforting.

Amongst a newfound world of immortal olympians, vicious monsters, and all things totally unreal, Willow Wyanlow was so... normal in the way her words weren't overly coded and cryptic like all the other residents of Camp Half-blood. In the way she didn't treat him like an oblivious child who had accidentally stumbled upon the truth of mythology.

Willo was normal and Percy was craving nothing more than the casual comfort of normalcy.

   The others clearly thought it was odd that he'd taken such a liking to Willow who had been alone due to the lack of intrest everyone weilded in her since she'd arrived at camp all those years ago. But, they didn't quite understand the feeling of utter isolation one felt after losing a parent. They didn't understand the need to cling to any sort of kindness one recieved after such a loss that Percy felt.

Sure, life at Camp wasn't easy in the slightest, but having a friend beside you as you adjusted made the impossible seem all the more possible. Even if that friend was a girl he'd met only three days ago.

Much like Willow, Percy wasn't very good at anything. Which is why everyone had high hopes come the day of Percy's first sword-fighting lesson. All of cabin eleven gathered in the arena, where Luke would be their instructor.

Willow dreaded sword fighting. She was rather clumsy with a sword, and her movements weren't coordinated in the slightest. Usually, the weapon wobbled in her grip and she couldn't keep hold of it for very long.

Luke told them to begin their training with simple stabbing and slashing motions. So they did, impaling some straw-stuffed dummies dressed in Greek armor.

  Willow was no good at even the simplest things such as this. She'd missed her target dummy an embarrassing amount of times and had dropped her sword even more. With a huff, the daughter of Ariadne blew on the singular peice of dark hair that had escaped her braid and fell infront of her red, sweat soaked face.

Meanwhile, Percy seemed to be doing a great job. Though he was struggling in finding a blade that fit him right, he still preformed way better than she ever had and he was brand new to camp.

  When Luke announced they'd be dueling in pairs, Willow considered strangiling herself to escape the upcoming torment. Percy had turned to her for a breif moment, hope gleaming in his irises. Perhaps his new friend could be his partner, that would certainly ease his nerves.

But, no. Luke announced he'd be Percy's partner due to him being new and all.

That left Willow to fend for herself. So naturally, she stood akwardly in the center of the arena as the others flocked to their friends. She toed the artificial grass with the tip of her sneaker, wishing she could turn invisible.

Eventually, everyone had paired off besides Willow and a small blonde boy who coltishly approached her. He was clearly very young, probably no older than ten, and his sword was too big for his body. Atop his head sat a tuft of messy golden curls. And his eyes were stunningly blue and very wide. Willow recognized him as Marcus, the unclaimed camper who had arrived at camp merely three weeks ago.

"Hi." Marcus held his sword far away from his figure like he was afraid it would impale him. "D'you have a partner?"

"Now I do." Willow conjured a grin though she felt incredibly distraught. She hoped it would make the boy feel at ease.

Willow and Marcus didn't really spar like they were supposed to— instead they held their swords long forgotten at their sides as they talked. More like, Marcus talked and Willow listened intently.

   She'd learned quite alot about him. According to Marcus, he'd turned ten two months ago and he loved the Star-Wars movies, he had an older sister who was a mortal, and he wasn't very partial towards dark chocolate. A very informative conversation in Willow's opinion.

  By the time Luke called a break, Willow pretty much knew the in-and-outs of the small boy infront of her.

  The other campers swarmed the water cooler, drenching themselves in icy water. Willow stood a distance away from the scene, not very enthralled by the concept of large crowds. Marcus though, dashed to the cooler and retrieved a red gatorade, which dyed his entire mouth red.

  "Okay, everybody circle up!" Luke ordered, his booming voice echoing above the hushed chatter. "If Percy doesn't mind, I want to give you a little demo."

  "Poor guy." Marcus shook his head, downing another swig of gatorade.

  And Willow agreed. Poor Percy. She couldn't imagine sparring with Luke who was the best swordsman at Camp, let alone infront of an entire crowd of people. Willow only hoped Percy would be alright. For both his sake and hers.

    Luke told everybody he was going to demonstrate a disarming technique: how to twist the enemy's blade with the flat of your own sword so that he had no choice but to drop his weapon.

   "This is difficult," Luke stressed. "I've had it used against me. No laughing at Percy, now. Most swordsmen have to work years to master this technique."

   He demonstrated the move on the Jackson boy in slow motion. Sure enough, the sword clattered out of his hand and onto the floor with a startling sound.

  "Now in real time," he said, after Percy had retrieved his weapon. "We keep sparring until one of us pulls it off. Ready, Percy?"

  It all happened so fast. Luke charged at Percy and the boy had just enough sense to sidestep. Each time the Hermes boy swung his sword, Percy defended himself with a move of his own. Soon though, he did look very exhausted and worn out by Luke's expert movements.

  Then, Percy tried the disarming maneuver. His blade hit the base of Luke's and he twisted, putting his whole weight into a downward thrust.

  Clang.

  Luke's sword rattled against the stones as it hit the ground and the campers fell silent. Willow stared in shock at the scene before her. As far as she was aware, no one had ever bested Luke. Impressive.

  He lowered his sword, embarrassed for some reason. "Um, sorry."

  For a moment, Luke was too stunned to speak.

  "Sorry?" His scarred face broke into a grin. "By the gods, Percy, why are you sorry? Show me that again!"

    This time, there was no contest. The moment the two's swords connected, Luke hit Percy's hilt and sent his weapon skidding across the floor.

  After a long pause, somebody in the audience said, "Beginner's luck?"

  Luke wiped the sweat off his brow. He appraised Percy with an entirely new interest. "Maybe," he said. "But I wonder what Percy could do with a balanced sword...."

  Bewildered, the younger boy looked over to the crowd, surprised by his own talent. The blue of his irises clashes with the brown of Willow's, and they both smiled in tandem.

   As previously noted, Willow Wyanlow hated war games. Including capture the flag— especially capture the flag. When the time for the games finally rolled around, so did the dread bubbling within her stomach. She hated the idea of hurting others for any reason, especially if this reason was something as silly as a game.

  A conch horn rung over the excited chaos, signaling the end of dinner and the hall broke into rowdy appluase. Everyone stood as the plates were cleared away. Annabeth and two of her siblings ran into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It was about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her buddies ran in with another banner, of identical size, but gaudy red, painted with a bloody spear and a boar's head.

  Percy turned to Willow, who was standing beside him, raising his voice as to be heard over the pandemonium. "Those are the flags?"

  "Mhmm." Willow nodded, crossing her arms over the knit cardigan draped over her mandatory camp shirt.

  "Ares and Athena always lead the teams?"

  Luke, who must've been ease dropping, leaned over from the opposite side of Percy. "Not always," he said. "But often."

  "So, if another cabin captures one, what do you do—repaint the flag?"

  Luke grinned mischievously. "You'll see. First we have to get one."

  "Whose side are we on?"

  Beneath the torchlight, Luke almost looked evil when he grinned, the scar on his face stretching. "We've made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the flag from Ares. And you are going to help."

   The teams were announced. Athena had made an alliance with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins. Apparently, privileges had been traded —shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities—in order to win support. Willow guessed the Athena kids were incredibly desperate to win because she would've never agreed to go last in showering. All the warm water would be ran!

    Ares had allied themselves with everybody else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus.

  Meaning the strongest, most burly kids were on the opposing team to Willow. Great. She couldn't wait to be skewered.

Chiron hammered his hoof on the marble and the sound echoed throughout the grounds.

"Heroes!" he announced. "You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!"

He spread his hands, and the tables were suddenly covered with equipment: helmets, bronze swords, spears, oxhide shields coated in metal.

"Whoa," Percy murmured in shock. "We're really supposed to use these?"

Willow narrowed her eyes as the table, in search of the lightest bow she could find. A dainty wooden bow with a quiver holding a few arrows was attached. It would do. If all went well, she wouldn't even have to use it.

Percy was equipt with a sheild that was bigger than his entire body, and probably heavier than his entire body as well. Willow nearly laughed upon seeing him holding the thing. She didn't though— because it would have been mean.

And Willow wasn't mean.

Like every other camper on Athena's team, she was wearing a golden helmet with a blue horsehair plume on top. The Ares side had red plumes.

Annabeth yelled, "Blue team, forward!"

Shaking their weapons with determination, the blur team advanced, following Annabeth down a path to the south woods. The red team went the opposite direction, shouting threats.

"So kind," Willow murmured to herself, but Percy overheard and nudged her with his elbow, scoffing out a laugh.

The two ended up falling into step beside Annabeth who wore a very determined expression. When she noticed their presence and looked over, she raised her eyebrows in amusement as if suprised to see the two of them. Suprised to see Willow.

"So what's the plan?" Percy asked. "Got any magic items you can loan me?"

This didn't seem to amuse her in the way the boy obviously hoped it would. She merely shook her head, hand drifting to her pocket like she were afraid Percy had stolen something.

"Just watch Clarisse's spear," Annabeth warned him. "You don't want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don't worry. We'll take the banner from Ares. Has Luke given you your job?"

"Border patrol, whatever that means."

"It's easy. Stand by the creek, keep the reds away. Leave the rest to me. Athena always has a plan."

She pushed ahead, leaving them in the dust.

Willow envied her new friend. Everyone knew that Border Patrol was just the nicer phrasing of do nothing because you suck. Not a single soul ever strayed toward the lake considering the flag usually wasn't located anywhere near water.

So basically, Percy was assigned to do nothing but loiter around the shore line while the others attempted to tear eachother apart.

Meanwhile, Willow would be wandering around like a chicken with it's head cut off, trying to stay away from the dangerous campers who took the game too seriously.

"Why don't I join you?" Willow suggested suddenly, the idea coming to her in a burst of self pity. "Keep you occupied?"

At the idea, Percy perked up. "Yeah!"

The night was warm and sticky, fireflies drifting through the heavily packed woods and illuminating the atmosphere. Bugs chirped in the woods and small animals skittered past, crushing the fallen greenery underfoot.

Willow and Percy were stationed beside a small gurgling stream that ran over a cluster of boulders and past a grassy brook. The others were scattered in the woods, far enough away from Willow and Percy for them to be considered absolutely stranded.

Far away, the conch horn blew again and shouts of all volume sounded, paired with the clanging of swords. A blue plumed Apollo ally dashed past them, leaping over the creek like a deer.

A sound that Willow had never before heard during a capture the flag game sounded over the commotion: a low canine growl somewhere close by.

Willow and Percy both whipped their heads around, locking eyes.

"Did you—?" Percy questioned.

"Yeah," Willow cut him off, frantically searching the grounds for the source of the sound. "I heard it."

"Sounded like a dog," Percy pointed out, his eyebrows cocked.

Willow nodded in agreement, averting her eyes to the clump of multicolored wildflowers beside the creek. With the smallest of grins, she knelt and plucked a pink one from the cluster, twirling the stem between her fingers. "Hey, loo—"

On the other side of the creek, the underbrush exploded. Five Ares warriors came yelling and screaming out of the dark.

Willow fell back in shock as they charged forward. Clarisse, a burly, rather wayward daughter of Ares who bullied everyone was leading the pack.

"Cream the punk!" She screamed.

Her ugly pig eyes glared through the slits of her helmet. She brandished a five-foot-long spear, its barbed metal tip flickering with red light. Her siblings had only the standard-issue bronze swords—not that that made Willow feel any better.

Having common sense, she assumed this was their payback on Percy for humiliating them with the bathroom incident. Shoot!

Dropping the flower, she fumbled for her bow with trembling hands. There was no help in sight— so either Willow could run, or defend herself and Percy against half the Ares cabin.

She'd chosen to stay with Percy and defend the creek so she wouldn't have to fight. Obviously, this wouldn't be happening.

Immediately, they flocked Percy, swinging their swords in every direction. Willow didn't know what she was supposed to do. With trembling legs, she managed to stand, surveying the scene with a frantic gaze.

She must have made a noise or something because one of the Ares kids turned to face her, holding his weapon out toward her.

He was obviously around Willow's age, a mousy brunette boy who didn't fit the ideal picture of an Ares kid in the slightest. He was rather scrawny and his cheeks were large and rosy, as was the tip of his button-like-nose. His eyes were blown wide— they were a dark shade of brown. Very mesmerizing Willow had to admit. He reminded her of those Cherub angel babies.

"What are you doing?" The boy snarled, but the tone he took up sounded too angry. His voice was naturally warm so the cruelty he forced sounded all too wrong. "Why are you here?"

"Who are you?" Willow interrogated, cocking her head in question. "I'm Willow."

Sure, she was stalling. Sue her!

"I don't care who you are," The boy told her. Willow glanced over his shoulder and saw that the Ares kids had backed Percy into the dirt. He was lying on the ground, trying to scramble away, using his hands like a crab.

Percy stood then and raised his sword, but Clarisse was quick to combat it by slamming it aside with her spear. Sparks flew and Percy shouted, dropping his sword. Instinctively, Willow moved to help him but the Ares boy who was guarding her stopped her from doing so with his shoulder, knocking her over backwards.

The small rocks left indents on Willow's elbows as she propped herself up, staring up at the Ares kid. "Ouch," Willow murmured and guilt crept onto the kids face. Obviously he wasn't as ruthless as his siblings. He stuck a hand out to help her up and she greatfully accepted it.

Just as he was pulling her up, Clarisse screamed so loud, she caught Willow off gaurd. Somehow, this led to Willow tugging on his arm, pulling him down beside her.

However, he was still holding his sword. On the way down, he fumbled the thing and it sliced through her shirt, piercing her shoulder. Willow didn't feel the blade for a moment, but she saw the blood immediately pour down her arm. There was so much of it she began to grow dizzy.

And then the pain hit her like a thousand pound freight train, taking her breath away within an instant. The wound on her arm burned terribly, bringing tears to her eyes and she clutched it.

"I'm sorry!" The Ares boy gasped, growing pale at the sight of the injury he accidentally inflicted on her. "I'm so sorry, Willow—"

Willow was vaguely aware of Percy besting the Ares kids behind her, but the pain was so demanding, she was hardly aware of her surroundings anymore.

Then, Luke who was flocked by an entire possey of his teammates came bursting through the woods with the red teams banner held high. The boar and spear were replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of cabin eleven. Everybody on the blue team picked up Luke and started carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron cantered out from the woods and blew the conch horn.

The Ares boy who was still apologizing frantically was pulled aside by his angry siblings. They were cursing at him like he was the cause for everything bad in the world. And he looked afraid. Really afraid.

Willow stood shakily, still clutching her shoulder, her face ashen and pale. At least they'd won. She tried to think positive, but her hands were slick with her own blood.

"Holy shit!" Percy yelped, limping over to her. He seemed genuinely concerned when his eyes caught on her bloody sleeve. "Are you alright— what happened? I tried getting to you, but—"

"Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?" Annabeth's voice appeared from nowhere. The air shimmered, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head. She tugged on Percy's ripped T-shirt and he stumbled to the side. If Willow wanted to, she could have listened in on their conversation, but Marcus, the kid she previously trained with, stumbled over to her, grininng like the overly excited child he was.

"We won!" He shouted, all of his teeth showing. But then his smile dropped when he realized she was bleeding. "Are you okay?!"

She nodded weakly, though she felt anything but okay.

"No, you aren't! Look at yourself," He scolded her. "How'd this even happen? Was it Percy?"

"No," Willow corrected him, growing fainter as the seconds passed. "it wasn't Percy. He wouldn't."

Another howl ripped through the forest before Marcus could respond, this time way louder and seemingly closer. The celebratory chatter died down instantly.

In ancient greek, Chiron shouted; "Stand ready! My bow!"

Willow's bow was discarded somewhere on the shore.

There on the rocks just above them was a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers. It was staring right past Willow— at Percy.

Nobody moved except Annabeth, who yelled, "Percy, run!"

It leapt over Annabeth who was standing protectively in front of Percy and knocked the boy over, landing atop him and sinking it's teeth through his armor. Then there was a cascade of thwacking sounds, like forty pieces of paper being ripped one after the other. From the hound's neck sprouted a cluster of arrows. The monster fell dead at Percy's feet.

By some miracle, Percy was still alive. Though, when Willow's eyes trailed down to his chest plate, she nearly cried out in shock. The protective plate was in ruins and his chest was on display, cut badly and bleeding very terribly. Suddenly, the wound on her arm felt very insignificant.

Without realizing what she was doing, Willow made her way over to the boy and placed a hopefully comforting arm on his shoulder. Chiron trotted over to them, his expression grim.

"Di immortales!" Annabeth cursed. "That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't...they're not supposed to..."

"Someone summoned it," Chiron informed, his voice full of knowledge. "Someone inside the camp."

Luke came over, the banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone.

Clarisse yelled, "It's all Percy's fault! Percy summoned it!"

"Be quiet, child," Chiron told her.

Everyone watched the body of the hellhound melt into shadow, soaking into the ground until it disappeared.

"You're wounded," Annabeth told me. "Quick, Percy, get in the water."

Willow wanted to ask why he'd get into the water in case of an injury, but before she could Percy waved her off. "I'm okay."

"No, you're not," she said. "Chiron, watch this."

Percy was apparently too tired to argue, because he stepped back into the creek, Willow's hand dropping from his shoulder. The entire camp gathered around and watched as the cut on Percy's chest began to close on it's own— but then an eerie blue glow above Percy's head caught their attention.

"Look, I—I don't know why," the boy began, trying to apologize. "I'm sorry...."

No one paid any mind to his wounds anymore.

"Percy..." Willow murmured, eyes still trained above him.

Above him was a three-tipped spear: a trident. It was spinning, gleaming a deep shade of blue.

"Your father," Annabeth mumbled. "This is really not good."

"It is determined," Chiron announced.

Willow was the first to kneel for Percy. All the others followed in her lead— even the Ares campers who looked anything but pleased.

"My father?" Percy asked, his voice small and pained. Willow's chest ached with fear and sadness for him.

"Poseidon," boomed Chiron. "Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God."

lyn / this the worst shit I ever written onb 😕 buttttt twas rushed and i hate capture the flag.. i hope u enjoy anyways :) vootee! i will be back to edit later