After spending six years living on the streets of New York, I thought I was pretty good at surviving. Most people are too attached to their comforts of home and would have a horrible time trying to find a nice deserted building to sleep in or pick-pocketing money. It was just something I did well.
But living out in the middle of the woods and having not knowing the lay of the land was a little more difficult and I must admit, I've been failing miserably. Just a few hours after I ditched Grover on the train, I started walking back towards where we'd come from. The only problem was that it started raining and I really sucked at direction.
I only got deeper and deeper into the woods; eventually the rain was falling so hard that I had to stop and huddle under a tree to get the little protection it offered me. I was so cold and so wet, and I could barely make out my own hands in front of me, it was so dark.
I didn't get much sleep that first night. I swear I kept hearing strange sounds like growling and a swish of tail just feet away from me. I couldn't see anything and I really tried to not think about what was in these woods.
To make matters worse, my shoulders were still aching from where I got slammed into the wall by the bull. When I was on the train, I checked to see the damage and it was all bruised and swollen; I knew I had a fracture.
I contemplated if abandoning Grover was a good idea. When I first got off the train, I thought it was. I imagined that I would be able to survive, like it was a city, but it was a far cry from New York.
I woke up the next morning with my clothes soaking wet, but the rain had long been gone. The sun was shining brightly and I could clearly see that I was a in a small clearing. It was here that I decided to try and set up a camp.
I didn't know how to make a tent out of sticks. I couldn't make a fire to save my life. I had to resort to eat unknown berries that I'm surprised didn't kill me. I slept under the tree that I did that first night and I drank from a small stream that was nearby.
Each morning, I would wake to find strange foot prints circling around the little clearing. My first thought was that it was a wolf, but they were much larger than a wolf's footprint would be. Each day, I would notice that the footprints got just a little bit closer to me, as if whatever made the footprint was getting closer to attack me.
But the fourth morning was different. There were no eerie footprints; that alarmed me the most. I got up to go drink from the stream like normal, walking ever so carefully. I had the feeling that someone was watching me.
When I reached the stream, I cupped my hands together and dipped them into the water and drank deeply. I strained my ears hard to see hear if there was anyone near me. Silence. Silence. Silence. Bird chirp. Silence. Silence. Twig snap. Sound of running towards me.
I threw the water back into the stream and sprang up, turning as I did so. Coming running towards me was a blonde haired boy with a terrible scar running along his face. Behind him, several teenagers had bows raised, arrows cocked in my direction.
I ran for the woods on the other side of the stream. I heard the whistle of arrows being fired and the splashing of the boy's boots as the slapped across the water. As fast I could, I ran into the cover of dark trees.
I let instinct guide me. I jumped over fallen trees and avoided stumps that I would trip on. I could hear the boy behind me, his boots making a loud thumping sound. In further behind him, I could hear shouts of the teenagers ordering for them to cut through the forest to block my way out.
I looked briefly behind me and saw the boy with a bow in his hands, aiming an arrow right for me. As he released the arrow, I jumped to the side. I rolled and tumbled down a small hill and into the extension of the stream.
I landed face first into the water; the rest of my body followed and landed onto the rocks. The first thing I noticed was that I couldn't move. The arrow hit me in the shoulder as I tried to jump out of the way. Now, I was paralyzed.
The boy cursed from above me and quickly jumped down into the stream, stirring the water. I watched helplessly as his black boots marched up to my face. Then, he kneeled down, grinning in my face.
"You seem to have a lot of spirit, girl. We could really use you."
His voice was smooth and friendly. I didn't trust it. He was a good looking guy, though. He had blonde hair and blue eyes. A strange scar, however, was running down his face.
He looked down at my shoulder, "Sorry I had to paralyze you. We were just afraid that you'd run away from us or that you'd hurt us. You see, " he pulled the arrow out of my shoulder ,"we're here to help you."
Help me? He shot me!
The boy chuckled, like he could read my mind.
"Now, I know what you're thinking! How can we help you after we just chased you down and shot you? Well, we can tell you what Grover couldn't….the truth."
I caught one last glimpse of the boy before I was suddenly wrenched into a world of darkness.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know, this chapter sucks a little. But that's only because I don't know exactly how to describe her being out in the woods and all alone.
On another note, thank you so much to those of you who think my story's pretty good, it means a lot to me. It's my first Percy Jackson fan fiction, so I do hope it's going well. And eventually, we'll get into the good action of the story. Any guesses of what's going to happen?