Percy slammed a fist into the tree, hissing in pain when the jagged spears of splintering wood pierced his flesh, slicking the bark with an eerie red sheen as the skin at his knuckles tore. Gods, he hated it there, with its hot, muggy air abundant with mosquitos and their ever-present itchy, welt-inducing bite; the dense foliage that grabbed at his clothes and clawed at his face, marring it with cuts and scrapes and harsh abrasions; and the constant sheet of grime that coated him head to toe. But the worst part was the isolation, the quiet, the profound nothingness that made Percy feel as though he were the last living person on Earth. Well, him and his uncle, with whom he was staying.

The guy was a few sandwiches short of a picnic, in Percy's opinion. He spent long hours of the day muttering incomprehensibly under his breath, scouring through factoids and files scattered haphazardly about their living quarters, the disorganized stacks cluttering the floors and clogging the hallways to the point of impasse. When not immersed in study and senseless rambling, he was painting. Having been a notorious artist in the prime of his life, his work was admired by thousands and righfully so, Percy thought, with their precise brushstrokes and impeccable detail that made their images impossibly realistic. His uncle painted often, a hobby with which Percy had no qualms; it was the content of those paintings that made him uneasy.

Each canvas depicted a terrifying beast of varying characteristics: some with eight scaly heads, all reared back from their fiery breath; others towering over twenty feet tall, wielding massive clubs riddled with metal spikes sharpened to lethal points, their one single eye zeroed in on indistinct silhouettes in the distance. The majority of the creatures were mid-roar, giant maws agape, brandishing row upon row of serated, razor-sharp canines; their needlelike points stained in crimson. In a few of the paintings, a person stood before the monster, hefting a sword forged of a celestial metal Percy couldn't name, swathed in ancient Grecian garb and armored breastplates that glinted orange in the fiery glow of the setting sun. They were beautiful, in a petrifying, tremble-in-your-boots kind of way.

Despite their beauty and exquisite craftsmanship, Percy tended to avoid the portraits as much as possible, which was a feat in and of itself, as his uncle hung the finished pieces on every sparsely-decorated wall in his home. Though the paintings invoked a deep unsettlement within him, Percy had another reason for his active avoidance. Following the suspension of his latest masterpiece, his uncle would get this look in his eye, this crazed glint that stripped away reality and trapped him within his own mind. He suffered from vivid hallucinations, startling delusions, that starred the monsters created within the depths of his imagination, the monsters that stared back at him from each of the hanging canvases. Sweat would trickle down his brow, his breaths exhaled in a harsh rattle, as his unseeing eyes locked on his invisible assailant. He would throw things; cower beneath tables, underneath the desk in his study, behind the couch; and shout names unfamiliar to Percy. Some of them male, some female, and some so alien Percy couldn't help but wonder if they'd been concocted in his mind.

Percy wondered if he would've been sent to live with his uncle had his mother known about his...episodes.

Sharp pinpricks of pain laced through his swollen hand, throbbing violently from the bone-shattering blow it took from being driven into the tree. Percy surveyed the damage, meticulously inspecting his knuckles for any tree residue or lingering splinter still embedded in the skin, hissing curses as a fresh wave of pain speared his injured hand.

Stupid, Percy thought, berating himself for allowing his anger to get the better of him.

Testing the extent of the damage, he tried to ball his hand into a fist, failing miserably as his stiff fingers refused to curl, the dismembered bones growling their protest. Percy tucked his arm to his chest and retraced his steps back the way he'd come.

Soft dirt gave way beneath his soles, tree branches swayed in the breeze, and crisp, fallen leaves skittered over the forest floor; their colors vibrant reds, oranges, and browns. The thick canopy of leaves obscured the glow of the sun, casting ominous shadows over the trees and ground. Nightfall was fast approaching, and Percy knew he had to hurry back before the whole forest was veiled by the lightlessness.

He hummed softly to himself as he walked. The forest was eerily quiet, unusually quiet, the silence enveloping the expanse like a second layer of skin. Soundless. Muted.

Until it wasn't.

A twig snapped off to his left, the offender cloaked by the night.

Percy's breath hitched, heart pounding in his chest, as he froze in place, his sea-green eyes locked in the direction of the sound. He strained his eyes in the darkness, hoping to catch a glimpse of the source of the noise, but it was futile, as everything before him was cached in the obscurity. For a moment, Percy envisioned the beasts from his uncle's paintings, prowling through the night in search of another hero to slaughter.

Giving his head a rough shake, he dispelled the thought, chalking it up to paranoia.

You're being ridiculous, he thought to himself. It's probably just an animal. A deer or a squirrel or something. Nothing to freak out over.

His heart rate calmed, the tension in his muscles lessening, as he exhaled the breath he'd been holding. Percy swiped his sweat-slicked palms over his denim-clad legs. He continued his trek, though more warily than he had previously.

Chills slithered over Percy's skin, raising the hair on his arms, as a cool wind swept through the forest, rustling the leaves and rattling his senses; which struggled to pinpoint any follow-up signs that he wasn't alone. It was nearly impossible with the cacophony of crinkling leaves echoing in his ears.

He found himself peering behind him, paying far more attention to what was behind than in front, which explained why he slammed face-first into a tree. Percy was really starting to hate those things.

He drew his uninjured hand up to clutch his nose, which spurted dark red blood. It trickled from his nose, down over his lips, and dribbled from his chin. Grasping the hem of his shirt, Percy wiped at his face, grimacing as he accidently tweaked his sensitive nose.

"Son of a -" He paused, staring at the tree, a weight settling in his gut.

The leaves in the canopy above had a small opening, allowing a sliver of moonlight to peek through, illuminating half of the tree's trunk. On it, Percy saw a sticky patch of his blood, but that wasn't what had startled him. No, it was the lacerations that scored the bark. Claw marks. Long and jagged, deep enough to slice the massive trunk nearly all the way through.

Percy brushed his fingers over the gashes. His fingertips came back coated in residual sawdust.

What could have done this? Caused so much damage? He wondered. Surely, none of your typical furry, forest creatures, of that he was certain.

As if to refute the thought, the wind grew warmer, as if he'd been wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, losing the icy chill that had crept all the way to his bones. It was warm, comforting, as though to reassure him that everything was all right. That it was in fact that squirrel that snapped the twig and a crazed lumberjack that slashed the tree. It was deep, rhythmic, almost like...

"Oh sh-"

Without turning around, Percy tentively raised a hand, slowly reaching behind him until his palm hit a solid wall of...fur. Vibrations ricocheted through his hand as a growl tore through the silence.

He spun around, eyes locking on the monstrocity that loomed before him, its hackles raised and teeth bared. Spittle dripped from its maw, pooling in the crinkled leaves, as it inched closer; its beady, red eyes zeroed in on Percy with a deadly precision. Its enormous body was hunched low to the ground, its thick coat of midnight black fur brushing through the dirt.

"Easy boy," he cooed, holding up his hands in a placating gesture, eyes never leaving the Hummer-sized hound's, as he slowly inched a foot backwards. Percy cringed as the leaves crunched beneath his step, crinkling loudly and drawing the monster's attention to his hasty retreat, but it didn't attack; much to Percy's relief. It merely tracked him with its steely gaze, locked on Percy with such violent intensity, it was as if the beast wished to petrify him in stone.

He took one step, then another, confidence building and hope bubbling in his gut as the monster refrained. Like a man in a minfield, Percy timed his steps, taking them slowly and with much hesitation, so as not to startle the creature. Relief cooled his heated skin as he distanced himself from the threat, nothing having set the animal off thus far.

Percy exhaled a ragged breath. I'm going to be fine, he thought. I'm going to get out of this. Everything's going to be just fi-

The monster struck, pouncing at Percy like a cat hungry for a canary, piercing claws outstretched.

Percy stumbled backward, hurling his weight to the right, and barely sidestepping the talons that brushed just past his ear. He scrambled off the ground and barrelled through the forest, the heavy tread of paws slapping the dirt behind him, hot on his heels. Percy struggled for a place to hide. Where, he didn't know, especially when the beast would smell the tang of blood and hear labored breath.

There.

A thick outcropping of brush beckoned him, a shroud of brush and brambles easily able to conceal him from the naked eye, compact enough to be impermeable to his inexorable pursuer.

Percy darted left, headed straight toward his only chance of shelter, of survival, the monster rapidly closing in. He was close.

Ten feet.

Five.

Almost th-

Percy was thrown off his feet, the blow knocking the air from his lungs, as the monster tackled him to the ground, sending the both of them tumbling down a hill a short distance away. Dirt pervaded his eyes and nose, his sight blurry, vision cycling between a cloudy view of the night sky, the stars twinkling high above; and the rainbow of colorful leaves and mud and sticks, which poked and prodded at his back and any other part of his hurtling body they could reach. His arms flailed wildly, seeking purchase on one of the exposed tree roots to slow his descent, but came up empty. Percy hissed in pain as he landed hard on his broken hand, the adrenaline in his blood unable to dull the shards of pain that licked up from his wrist like liquid fire.

They tumbled into the creek perched at the hill's foot, a wall of water soaking Percy to the bone from the gargantuan hound's harsh impact, its massive girth slapping the water with such force, Percy wondered how the creature found the strength to rise. The water, sparkling in the moon glow, had the opposite effect on Percy, cushioning his fall and righting his equilibrium; an advantage over the now disoriented monster.

He clambered out of the creek and bolted once again, fighting the urge to return to the creek's edge and revel in the sweet relief of the water's taming effect on his scorching wrist.

"Help! Somebody help me!" Percy shouted, having noticed that the beast had closed the distance between them in just two short bounds, its snapping jaws missing his head by mere inches.

This was it. This was the end. At least he could say he died in a cool way. Torn to bits by a mythological creature that shouldn't exist.

Something moved in his peripheral vision, followed by a shrill yelp, and Percy turned to see a silver arrow lodged in the monster's chest. Another of his silver saviors burst from the treeline, its arrowhead emblazoned by moonlight like a beacon of hope that nearly brought him to tears, leveled at the monster in a shot that surely would have killed it...had it not lurched toward Percy.

The arrow grazed its shoulder before lodging into the tree behind it, the shaft splintering from the impact.

An ear-shattering, gutteral roar ripped from the monster's throat, charging straight toward him, malice in its eyes as it zeroed in on Percy, the gash in its shoulder doing little to hinder its advance.

Tension lanced through Percy's body, his stance widening and legs locking, as he readied himself for a fight he was sure to lose. But he didn't have to.

She came out of nowhere, melting out of the shadows like a phantom, rocketing towards the monster with a fierce scowl on her pretty face, storm clouds stirring in her eyes as she raised the knife clutched by her slender fingers. She thrust the blade into the monster's tender flesh, driving it all the way to the hilt, the monster writhing as muscle tore and bone shattered.

It clawed at the air, swatting wildly for the girl, whose lithe frame expertly dodged its sloppily-executed strikes.

Percy was awe-struck as he watched her, parrying each blow with such profound ease that spoke of countless years of training and experience. Her movements were fluid, smooth, graceful, almost as if she were dancing rather than engaging in a fight-to-the-death bloodbath. She was a fighter, a warrior, strategically calculating each attack before she enacted it, searching for chinks in the armor; delievering a barrage of jabs that inflicted a plethora of festering wounds that marred the creature's skin while she remained unscathed. She was a force to be reckoned with.

The hound gnashed his teeth at her, nearly taking her head off, but she tucked and rolled beneath its razor-sharp canines and stabbed at its underbelly. A howl of agony rumbled the ground, rattling the leaves, as the monster swatted its massive paw. It slammed into the girl, hurling her off her feet and in the air, her back connecting hard with a tree, her head twacking against the bark.

Despite the bone-shattering impact, she bore her pain in silence, scuttling up from the ground and scooping up her bronze dagger which lay at the monster's feet. She hefted the knife before leaping at the monster, climbing up its massive body like it were a rock-climbing wall, using its tangly mass of fur as handholds. Once perched on its back, she drove the blade downward, thrusting it into its eye with a gushy thunk, its head rearing frantically as it tried to throw her from its back like a bucking branco.

Blinded and locked in a pain-induced haze, the monster stumbled, tripping over itself and crashing to the forest floor, imprinting a crater in the earth from the intensity of its impact. It was sprawled out on its side, black mane fanned out around it, jaws snapping at something Percy couldn't see over its hulking frame.

His eyes sought out the girl, eyes darting all around the perimeter of the beast and behind Percy as well, providing she'd been flung from its hindquarters. Is she underneath it? Had she been crushed? he wondered, fearing the worst, and slowly crept around to get a better look. His eyes widened in horror as he absorbed the scene before him.

The girl was alive, battered and bleeding, but alive, wildly deflecting the flailing claws and gnashing jaws from her sprawled position in the dirt; her face tightened from strain, a grimance on her face as if she were in pain. Her foot was trapped beneath the creature's monstrous body, pinning her to the ground, leaving her to parry the beast's strikes while simultaneously wriggling her foot free from her life-threatening prison. Percy knew if she couldn't free herself, exhaustion would consume her, and she wouldn't be able to keep halting the animal's attacks.

Percy raced away from the scene as fast as his tired legs could carry him, stopping when he reached the tree that spouted her arrow. Grasping the shaft tightly with his good hand, fingers locking in a vice grip, he yanked the arrow from the tree with a harsh jerk, the splintered shaft snapping in half from its exertion. Percy sprinted back the way he'd come, frantically dashing through the forestation in hopes to return before it was too late, scrambling to reach the girl before she was reduced to minced meat.

The monster now in his sights, he brandished the arrow, hefting it high above his head, before spearing it through the monster's skull, the force shattering the arrowhead into a thousand tiny shards that ricochetted around its cranal cavity. The beast's movements and heart beat halted as it gave its final gust of breath.

In flurry of dust and sticky, clotting goop, the hound imploded, erupting into nonexistence as if it had never been there at all, the fractured arrow the only proof that it hadn't all been a manifestation of Percy's imagination. Well, that and the girl, who lay panting in the dirt; her curly, blond ponytail fanned around her like a sea of liquid gold. Monster dust and slime covered her from head to toe, mingling with the dirt and blood caked on her face from the scuffle, the syrupy essence from the creature coagulating on her silver parka.

"You okay?" Percy asked, reaching out his uninjured hand to help the girl to her feet.

She nodded.

"I'm fine," she breathed, her breaths still shallow gasps, just as Percy's were, her hand clammy as she grasped his and pulled herself up; brushing stray leaves and twigs from her jeans as she went.

"What was that thing?" Percy inquired, fearful of her answer, worrisome that she would confirm his theory that it was in fact an ancient beast spawned in times long past, that every crazed word that had swept past his uncle's lips held an undeniable truth.

She shook her head, eyes pinched and lips pursed as if she were plagued by an unpleasant thought, when she said, "It's better if you don't know."

Anger spiked at her refusal to disclose information Percy felt was well-deserved, considering the monster had tried to reduce him to a mangled heap of bones and flesh in its digestive tract.

"What do you mean, 'it's better if I don't know,'" He shouted, frustration ravaging his common sense and gratitude for her brave, impromtu, rescue mission. "That thing, that monster, would have killed me. Killed me. I have a right to know what it was and why it was there, don't I?"

"Names hold power, and believe me when I say, you don't want it to have any more power than it already does."

Percy huffed an exasperated breath, irritated yet relenting, as he was confident that her knowledge spanned far more than his in matters such as these. He swallowed his resentment, tamping the blazing inferno of dissatisfaction into dwindling embers to be dealt with later, focusing instead on the fact that he was alive and that he owed it to the girl to show some semblance of appreciation.

"Thank you," He said, reinforcing his words with every ounce of gratitude he could muster.

They locked eyes, grey to green, and even with the mask of dirt and grime plastered to her face, Percy detected a hint of familiarity, as if he'd seen her before. He searched his memory for an instance in which he'd encountered the girl, a brief shred of a memory that could explain his odd sense of recognition, yet he recalled no such meeting, which puzzled him to no end.

A glint of metal caught his attention, the sharp-edged point of a blade glinting in the moonlight, its hilt slicked with blood and monster dust, giving the handle a glossy sheen that made his stomach curdle.

"I believe this" -he bent to retrive the dagger, turning back to the girl, knife-holding arm outstretched- "belongs to..." Percy was greeted by open air, the space the girl had occupied barren and lifeless, with no trace of her company except the knife Percy held in his hand. She'd vanished, like a ghostly apparition whose only purpose had been to defend his life, seek retribution, and rectify the beast's wrongdoings.

His eyes sought movement in the nearby trees, striving to find the girl who'd saved his life, slayed a monster, and walked away as if it were the most casual thing in the world; yet he knew she wasn't there, that he wouldn't find her cached in the shadows as she had been prior to the duel; she was gone.


Percy sifted through the canvases, rifling through the portraits in search of the source that had dragged him from the comfort of his bed in the early morning hours, mindful of his uncle's steady breaths in fear that he would wake to find Percy combing through his things. His stomach flopped as he uncovered the painting he'd been searching for, removing it from the confines of the cramped closet and hauling it out of his sleeping uncle's room, creeping down the creaky, wooden steps to the living room.

Assembling the easel, Percy poised the canvas on its solid, timbered frame, the silvery glow of the moon spilling from the windows to illuminate the image. His breathe hitched as he drunk in the portrait despite having unknowingly seen countless times before, eyes disbelieving and heart hammering.

How had his uncle known? Who was she?

Etched in the canvas, with an array of vibrant colors and flagrant detail, were approximately a dozen girls, all between the ages of twelve and eighteen; donning silvery ski parkas, a bow and quiver slung over their shoulders, hunting knives sheathed at the hip. And in the middle of it all, grey eyes just as piercing as in person, was the girl, the dagger now in Percy's possession clutched in her grasp.

Who are they?

Beneath the image, scrawled in his uncle's nearly illegible script, was his answer, hastily written as if his uncle had needed to affirm the words before he suffered a lapse in memory.

A yawn bubbled from his throat, exhaustion settling in for the night as if Percy were its five-star resort, claiming his body after a fitful day. He was done for now, but tomorrow was a different story.

Tomorrow, he would find her, find them: the Hunters of Artemis.


That's a wrap for chapter one. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.

If you have any thoughts, leave them down in a review. Did you love it? Did you hate it? Should I continue? Let me know!

Constructive criticism is welcomed and greatly appreciated! :)

-NightOwl92