Annabeth: My Frien-emy Came Back to Life
Huff, huff. My feet pounded the ground, my honey-blonde hair streaming out behind me. I had to get away, had to run. It didn't matter where, I just had to. There was no way I could face what was chasing me; if I did, I might cry. I never cried; it was impossible: I wish.
Huff, huff, huff. I was growing tired, and the trees seemed to be getting taller. My heart was racing and sweat poured down my face. Stupid over-reactive sweat-maker thingy-mac-bobbers. A twig snapped. New-found terror shot into my mind, making me run twice as fast. He was catching up to me. Why was he chasing me, hunting me down? I thought that we were okay; that he was at peace! He should be in Elysium at a luau, eating pineapples and suckling pig or whatever, not trying to destroy me! He was my friend, is my friend . . .
Suddenly I tripped over a tree root. Styx, help me, I thought. My hand flew to my waist, where my dagger was. My fingers, numb with terror, closed around empty air. About 13 feet away I saw it glint golden on the forest floor, shining tantalizingly. I reached for it, but then a sneaker stepped on it. His sneaker.
"Hello, Annabeth," chimed a very familiar voice. "Miss me?" An icy hand grasped my heart and squeezed, hard. I forced myself to look up.
"Hello Luke."