Nico di Angelo had a slight issue with sisters.
Bianca had always bossed him around, chastising him when he didn't do what told. Hazel, sweet as she was, tended to have her nose in his business quite frequently. And although he loved and missed them dearly, a small part of him was fed-up with siblings.
Reyna wasn't helping the cause.
As the two of them trekked through the thick foliage of the Rocky Mountains, she would constantly speak up, instructing Nico on which path to take and which animals not to touch, as if searching for food and water was some big, important mission. They'd left the Athena Parthenos with Coach Hedge to look after, though there wasn't much doubt in Nico's mind that the old goat was probably sleeping rather than guarding, so the faster they finished up their task, the better.
"This way," Reyna said, pointing downhill to a small stream. "We should clean up while we can, refill the water bottles."
Reyna looked no better than Nico did; her dark hair, usually in a neat braid, was tangled like a bird's nest, giving her a wolf-like complexion. Her face was worn-down with exhaustion, fierce mask gone, leaving two sad eyes, chapped lips, and gaunt cheeks. Her clothes–a camouflage tank-top and jeans–were tattered and coated with mud. Her olive-ish skin was tinted gray.
"Are you sure?" Nico asked quietly. "Last time we encountered a river, we almost drowned and lost all our stuff."
"That wasn't my fault," Reyna retorted, shooting him a venomous look. "Besides, this is a brook, and it's not even half as deep and fast-moving. If one of us falls in, the worst that can happen is we'll need new clothes. Would you rather get a little wet or die of thirst?"
Nico didn't speak up again. There was no use in arguing with Reyna–she was so blunt, so unexpressive, and she'd probably throttle you if you tried. He admired that of her, but sometimes, it was a real pain.
So they knelt by the crystal water, unscrewing the caps to the four large bottles they had and dipping them in. Once they were all filled to the rim and the caps were tightened back on, Nico lowered his hands into the brook, the iciness of the water prickling his skin, and scrubbed off as much filth as he could, even the dirt buried underneath his fingernails. Then he cupped his palms and brought the liquid to his face, splashing himself a couple times. The blast of coolness made him more alert, woke up his senses a little more. And even though it wasn't entirely sanitary after he'd just washed off, he couldn't help sipping a little of the freshwater right from the stream. When he sat up and raised his head, gazing at the clouded sky, a moan he couldn't hold in escaped his lips. Reyna chuckled.
"My, aren't you a big fan of water," she teased from a few feet away, trying her best to smooth down her hair. Nico blinked at her. It was so unusual having another person with him–an actual, living being, smirking at him–that he'd forgotten she was there; as he'd done before, many times.
Reyna's smirk wavered. "Well, might as well get as much of it as you can. We probably won't run into water this clear for a while."
We. The word sent shivers down Nico's spine. Despite himself, he felt the corners of his mouth tugging upward. It was nice to have someone with him, even if they weren't much more than a stranger. He was so accustomed to being alone, it never occurred to him how reassuring another human–demigod; whatever–by his side could be.
Reyna stood, patting the grass from her legs and gathering two of the bottles. The cold water seemed to do her good, too; her eyes were wider, ears more open. That gave Nico a sense of security he couldn't help–that she was here, and real, and his ally.
"Let's go. Who knows what'll happen to the Parthenos if we leave it Coach's hands too long," she said without much humor, some of the weariness returning to her eyes. Nico tore his gaze from her and looked one more time at the babbling brook. He could faintly make out his reflection in the clear water, his black hair tousled and grim eyes staring back at him. He wanted to stay there, beside the brook, and look forever in the waters, to see what else he could find in them. But Reyna was right. They had to keep moving; they had to get the Athena Parthenos to Camp Half-Blood to prevent a war between them and Camp Jupiter.
So before he knew it, he was up and moving, returning to the Parthenos with the other two bottles in his arms, leaving the brook behind.