It was a blurry line I could barely make out as I made my way through Forks, Washington the sun was barely lifting out of the horizon. I waved. Hi daddy. You could possibly consider it strange but not nearly as strange as you could imagine. I am a chaotic, trouble-some demigod, a daughter of Apollo. Apollo's first and only daughter. While it might sound like a crazed, jacked-up story, I swear on the river Styx it is absolutely true (and you don't need to be a half-blood to realize how dangerous that type of swear and how serious it is.)I was completely proud of my roots. And while I may not get the "Daddy's lil' Girl" treatment, Apollo clearly favors me and has blessed me on quests.

Like right now. The Oracle of Delphi, who is currently a mortal named Rachel Dare, prophesized (a prophecy I didn't even get to hear!) about me and how the answer to our problems where at my reach. I was to go west and there I would find our salvation. So Chiron, gave me the choice of accepting the quest (which of course I couldn't turn down, given the gravity of the circumstance) and told me I could bring anyone I wanted to so, you guessed it, I asked Nico to come.

Nico has been the closest to me sense he arrived at camp because I was one of the few who accepted, and even liked, his sense of darkness. I didn't judge. I enjoyed talking to him even before the death of his sister which was the turning point in his life. We kept each other company while the trio and Bianca left for their quest. We can always tell each other anything and everything and never feel the need to complain or be bored with each other. It kind of bugs me when he leaves camp for a long period of time but I understand. He needs to get away. To escape. Namely from Percy whom he still blames for his sister's death, which I can both agree and chastise him about. Ahhh, Percy Jackson the camp's and Olympus's golden boy, the chosen one. Personally, I like Percy. He's got a wicked sense of humor and is good natured. And I can see he is also still sorry about Bianca, so I can't blame him, although I'd never tell Nico that.

So just like that, only 3 days ago, we left camp, which Nico was obviously pleased about but I trembled in fear of. It's not as if I couldn't survive out in the real world, I've been doing it for the past 14 years of my life, but I had honestly gone out only to return to my family. My family. My mother had me when she had just gotten out of high school, so she was relatively young and uncertain but she had her family, consisting of my grandparents and sisters. And then she met my dad. Pardon, my step-father. I don't even consider him my step-father, he had been just as loving and supportive as any real dad and I'm not ready to give him away. Just as well with my younger sister and brother, who can easily irritate me but I love just as much. I hail from a Mexican heritage and proud of it, although I am often told I don't look it. I've lived in a fairly large house in a small city in Florida with two loving, protective parents and two adorably faced but villainous sibling, like an average teen. Amazing how looks can be deceiving.

Quickly glancing around, sure not to make much movement, I realized how plain beautiful and unreal the forest felt. Like a scene straight out of a storybook. The tall, grand trees stood over me like a secret keeper of the forest, surveilling with a watchful stance. The over-thrown logs had a hair of moss and mushrooms on the top. The clear, crisp day was feeling good against my aching back. Flowers of all colors were bringing merry joy to the forest, doing a small dance with the breeze. Small animals scampering at times, but mostly the forest was watching me, perceiving the new intruder.

My unruly mane of blackish-brown hair smothered my face, bringing angry curly vines in my eyes. Everyone always feels the need to compliment my hair, to emphasis the beauty of my tangled mess, but of course now, after being drifted into fights against hellish creatures and living on the streets for the sake of my quest, no one would give a compliment. Dark, but clear brown orbs stared through the hair, showing specks of gold lights when the sun hit them, curtsy of my dad of course. A turn-up nose peeking through was also noticeable. My skin was lightly glowing, again because my skin seams to hunger for the sun, almost beige but still a creamy tone. I stood at a slightly above average height at 5'6 and was medium in weight, at 120 lbs. when I had first gotten to camp it was nearly impossible to tell I was a child of Apollo given the fact that: A) I'm not blond and blue eyed and B) a daughter of Apollo had never been heard of.

Looking down at myself, I realized how wild and wretched I look, my hair was only the start of it. My skinny jean were now covered in dry soil and Hydra blood (don't ask) and my Florida State University had tears in it. My black Converse where worn down and equally as dirty. The only other things in my current possession was my black hoodie, my quiver that help a handful of arrows that went across my back, my bow, and a blue and white Jansports backpack with a little under $100 bucks, a pair of spare clothes, nectar, ambrosia, my toothbrush, hair comb (which I haven't bothered to use), and my dagger. Standard things.

The blurry line seemed to be moving close to me and at a very fast rate. Coming right at me, as it would seem! I grabbed my bow, which was hanging from the quiver on my back and dropped my backpack on the ground. Monsters. I could feel a hummingbird beat franticly against my chest. I was a lone demigod with almost no way of protecting myself. I wasn't the most particularly skilled at handling weapons, or using hand-to-hand combat, I was girl who didn't really like fighting unless she had to. True, I have my bow and arrows and my dagger, ηλιακή έκλαμψη, translates to Solar Flare, a present from my aunt Artemis. ηλιακή έκλαμψη was supposed to send a blinding, white heat of pain to who ever get plunged with it but of course I wouldn't know because I've never tried it on anyone. But I'm running short on arrows and I'm not much of a handy swordsman but I have my speed, whether it is in running or doing handiwork. I curse at myself for ditching Nico back in Montana, it was a good idea at the time, seeing as I was upset with him at the time (a nasty incident with a certain hellhound, a bucket and peanut-butter) and I wanted to, and had the right to, get far away before I did something stupid. Too late. And now I'm paying for it.

I pray to my father and to all the gods of Olympus to get me through this. The blurry line turns out to be a pack of dogs, maybe 6 to 8. But these were monstrous dogs, 3 times as big as any normal proportioned mutt, but not as big as a hellhound. Colorful, cow-like eyes, snarling muzzles and soft earthly-colored coats, ranging from sandy shades to abyssal black. Not like any monsters I've ever seen, still they seemed to know I was not completely normal and where intent on killing me. Good enough reason to strike back. But there were so many of them, so my chances of escaping with my limbs still attached were slim to nothing.

They were only ten yards away, I was terrified but I needed to stay strong. They came to a halt and stared at me, some with confusion (if beastly dogs can show any expressions) and others with a protective stance, as if daring me to come any closer. We waited for a while, watching each other. Who is going to attack first? 'I don't understand, they should already be attacking me. What are they waiting for?' I think as I stand still, my bow and arrow still in my hand waiting for the threats to near. A beast, coat the color of death itself, easily the biggest of the bunch, with soft black eyes stepped closer. I gripped my bow tightly as he stared at me for a while, then turned and ran deep into the forest. The others hadn't made a move, didn't even attempt to breathe for fear, probably, that it would set me off.

I looked each one in the eye, each pair a distinctively different shade of brown. My own eyes where cautious. My stance was firm and I wore a determined face. I heard leaves cracking on my right, the same way the giant wolf (I decided to call it) ran into, and a man came out. He had black choppy hair, a copper tan, ripping muscles that made him look life he was on steroids and a tall, broad built. He was wearing only a pair of khaki shorts against his tan skin. My guess was that he was an Indian from the reservation I saw walking into the forest.

'Get away!' I desperately wanted to yell at the young man, 'The last thing I need is a mortal to get in my way, even though this guy could clearly protect himself.'

And then I realized… the Mist! There is no way this guy will even be able to tell these are monsters, although he's probably going to think these are ferocious normal wolves who were about to attack an innocent girl. When he goes back home, he's probably going to start a rumor that wolves are savaging the forests. Oh well, yet the locals start problems for themselves if they must.

'But still, he's going to be an obstacle. I can't very well kill all these mutts and walk away without a single bruise. He won't believe it.' I pause. He was now staring at me, with a look of curiosity and annoyance, but had that same look, oddly, that the wolves are giving me. Defensive and wry. And we just stood there until I could come up with something to say.

"Hi," I whisper quietly to the man, not lowering the bow and arrow that was in my hand that was aimed at the animals. He had a shocked, startled look as if he didn't believe I had a voice of an innocent.

"Hello, I don't think I've seen you around. Are you new?' he answers back at me keeping a light tone.

I pause.

"Yes, but I don't live around here. I'm simpley passing through." I reply, keeping my answer short. I didn't really want to go into long details.

He frowns.

"Are you a runaway?" he questions. How exactly was I supposed to explain that I was currently on a quest and had no idea of what exactly I was supposed to find or do?

"Not exactly… ummm, I'm on my way to meet a few friends." I lie.

"Oh…" he trails off. Then he turns towards the wolves. "These are the biggest wolves I've ever seen. Don't you agree?" All I could do was nod.

"And you're not scared? That they might possibly attack you?" he says with any incredulous tone.

"I've seen bigger and scarier," I murmur. The man turns toward me just as a wolf or two growl.

"Would did you say?"

"Shouldn't you be equally afraid? You aren't even running away in terror. What the hell, I could ask you the same question!" I throw back at him. Hypocrite…

He offers a small smile. "Trust me when I say I am not afraid." I give him a surprised look. He laughs. I smile a small grin. Then everything was silently and I could only hear an ancient song being played by the wind.

"You aren't normal, are you," he says softly, killing the sweet harmony.

I panic but manage to compose myself , my confident stance slightly wavering.

"What do you mean?" I say holding on to the suspense of the moment.

"I think you very well know what I mean. You have a different scent then that of a normal human." While he finished talking I quickly flipped to my side, and aimed my weapon at him. Growls and howls could be heard from the nearby wolves. They were clearly getting ready to jump me but the guy held a hand to stop them. Heel doggies!

"Hold on there. I'm not attacking you so could you maybe not point that at me? Honestly please or else they," he says pointing to the pack, "Will have a reason to attack. And as long as you aren't attacking, you aren't a threat."

That makes me pause and slowly I lower my arrow.

"How do you know?" I question.

He smiles and starts walking forward making me tense but stops 3 feet in front of me. He takes his hand forward for me to shake. I look him in the eye uneasily but shake his hand either way.

"My name is Karen," I say at last gripping his large hand softly, my long fingers feeling extremely heated. Is he running a fever?

"Hi Karen, my name is Sam. Now could you please start explaining?"