'My name is Emma. Emma Wilson. I am the daughter of Kristina Wilson.' The blonde girl thought furiously to herself. She would not be defeated by a maniac dog. Granted, it looked more like a demon than a dog-with its face snarling like a beast, it's fangs dripping with saliva and its glowing red eyes. Emma barely stopped herself shuddering in disgust. It would not do to show weakness, even now. She had promised her mother that. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, giving her the energy she desperately needed. She shifted her stance, one foot in front of the other for balance (or she hoped), raised the kitchen knife she grabbed while running away from the monster and slashed blindly at the demon dog. She relied on her instincts to tell her what to do as it had never been wrong before. In a stroke of luck, the knife met its mark and the blade ran clean through the hound's front leg. Emma expected blood to pour out, but golden sand came instead, scattered around them both. The creature bared its teeth and pounced, or tried to, at least. Emma ducked and rolled to the side, wincing as her injured shoulder came in contact with the hard floor. She glared at the hell hound and stabbed it while it was off balance, putting all her hate and anger into the action. A tingling sensation in her arm was all the warning she got before her arm started to buzz with electricity. It grew and grew until her arm looked like a lightning bolt. She yelped in surprise as electricity raced down her hand and into the knife, electrocuting the demon. It howled in pain, thrashing under her hand before disintegrating. Emma kicked the patch of sand, feeling a sense of smug satisfaction and horror. She was breathing heavily, her vision sliding in and out of focus. She would contemplate the Lightning later, she decided. Blood was dripping down her wrist from the deep gash on her arm. She glared at it and noticed something ivory buried in the wound. Her fingers moved on their own accord and pulled it out causing more blood to gush from the wound, but Emma clutched the tooth until her knuckles turned white. She dropped the knife, letting it hit the floor with a thud, and leaned heavily on the wall, slowly sliding down to a sitting position. She was tired, too tired to do anything-and too weak. Her eyes slid closed and she was horrified to find her lashes wet, tears slowly dripping down her cheeks. She hissed in pain and pressed a hand to her cheek. Salt on the wound. Her fingers came off stained with fresh blood. She cursed. I'm sorry, mother.
She couldn't bring herself to go see her mother's mutilated corpse. She was pathetic. I'm so sorry. With huge difficulty Emma managed to stand back up and survey the scene; golden dust scattered on the floor, furniture sour of place, blood splattered the walls. Her blood. Emma took a deep breath and tried to block out both the emotional and physical pain, locking them in a chest and stuffing it in the corner of her mind. She had to get out of here before someone came. They would undoubtedly call the police and get her arrested-they would not believe her story. They would laugh in her face and demand she confess that she'd murdered her own mother. Emma choked down a sob and stumbled towards the bathroom, bumping into things and causing a racket. She cursed under her breath in frustration and occasionally winced in pain. Emma carefully stepped over the door that was thrown off its hinges, gingerly setting the tooth down near the sink and wrapped a damp towel on her injured arm. Emma stared at the mirror and took a deep breath, taking a tissue and wetting it, before raising it towards her face. Her hands were shaking as she slowly dabbed the tissue around the wound, cleaning the blood, tears and dirt. Her cheek hurt, it felt like a dozen needles were piercing it, and it took her every effort not to cry out. Emma glared at the mirror. Her reflection glared back. She studied herself: her unusually bright eyes that was a shade of royal blue, her pale cheeks that had dried blood on them, her dirty blonde hair that clung to her face, singed at the tips, her lithe and slender form that was shaking imperceptibly, her clothes in tatters and stained with blood and sand.
There was a sound. Hissing, getting closer and closer. Emma staggered out of the bathroom, cursing herself for letting her guard down. She didn't have the energy to do the Lightning thing again, and even if she did she had no idea how. She saw a figure and stopped in her tracks, standing unsteadily as she stared at it. Emma had thought, after the demon dog, that she couldn't be surprised anymore. She was wrong. A snake woman stood not five feet in front of her. Her skin was covered in green scales, snakes replaced her hair, tentacles her arms and tails her legs. It was a gruesome and horrifying sight, not counting the way the woman leered at her. Slime was everywhere. Emma scrambled for her knife, but the mutant snake got there first, and crushed it under one of her tentacles. Emma struggled not to gape. How do you crush metal? The woman noted her surprise, and looked distinctly smug. She slithered forward, only for Emma to nearly fall on her because of the exhaustion from the previous fight. The use of lightning was also extremely draining. Emma grimaced. Spots danced in her eyes, and strangely the last thing she thought of was an image of strawberry hills under the sun, a pine tree in the distance, and three words. She had just managed to read it before darkness consumed her; Camp Half Blood.