Clarisse saw Silena everywhere.

It had been over a month since the Battle of Manhattan, but the events of that terrible siege still lingered around the camp like afterimages. It was especially bad now that the summer was over and only the year-rounder campers were left behind. There weren't too many of them in the first place, and now that the war had stolen two of the leaders of the pack from them, the camp felt even more empty.

The year-rounder campers were close friends, not because they liked each other, but merely because they'd spent so much time together during their years at camp. Beckendorf and Silena were usually the center of all the attention— natural leaders, they had a habit of weaving through the crowd of younger campers, offering advice and checking in with the sullen-faced. The year-round kids adored them, worshipped them like royalty. Especially last year, when Beck and Silena were in their lovey-dovey honeymoon phase, it seemed like they held the whole camp in their palms— the whole world, too.

And now they were both gone.

Losing one of them would have been bad enough, but to swipe away both the prom king and prom queen of Camp Half-Blood at once, right when they were at their prime... the place felt like a sad echo of what it had once been.

So Clarisse saw Silena in her fellow campers. She saw her when Miranda Gardiner dispensed some advice to a sobbing younger camper— advice that Miranda had, a few years ago, been on the receiving end of, when Silena was talking her through a meltdown. She saw her when the Athena cabin was covered with spontaneous decorations on the morning of a new camper's birthday— a tradition that Silena had started, but was now apparently being carried on by the Stoll brothers. And she saw her when little Lacy from the Aphrodite cabin put her friend's hair up in a fishtail braid. Silena had taught her that braid.

But Silena had been more than just a member of Clarisse's community. She was also Clarisse's best friend.

So Clarisse saw Silena in simpler things, too. A fallen hijab pin gathering dust under Clarisse's bed. A mole on the back of Clarisse's left hand. A branch of an oak tree on the edge of the woods bent low enough to sit on.

It hurt too much to look at anything, sometimes. It was like Silena had left behind a residue on everything she touched, and now everything in camp was tainted with her memory. Even Clarisse's own skin.

When it all became too much, and Clarisse couldn't even look in the mirror without seeing Silena's ghost, she would storm out of camp and plunge deep into the woods. The best thing about the woods was that it looked wild, completely untouched by humanity— which meant completely untouched by Silena.

Once a twice a week she would go, out into the woods to walk and brood and try to forget all the reminders of her best friend's life or death that she would find when she got back to camp. She killed anything she came across, her bedside overflowing with trophies leftover from the unlucky hellhounds and renegade harpies that crossed her path.

It had been bad recently. Late September saw autumn really kick into high gear, the forest turning red and shedding leaves like fur. With the change in season came a change in Clarisse's mood. She'd been out storming around in the woods nearly every day now, and yesterday she'd somehow found a way to get pissed about s'mores. She'd yelled at poor Chris for an hour, for nothing but making his s'more with two chocolate pieces instead of one.

Her change in mood was so obvious, even to herself, that she was cautious to jump to conclusions when she started hearing noises on those walks in the woods. At least once a day, she would hear an odd noise— a shout, a blade being drawn— that would suggest another person in the woods with her. But she could never catch the culprit.

A few days ago, she'd figured out all of the noises seemed to only pop up when she walked near the clearing that held the former site of Zeus' fist. The correlation alone was enough to make her think that maybe the noises weren't just her imagination, but still, it wouldn't surprise her for her brain to come up with paranoid noises just to mess with her. She wasn't in the best 'headspace', as Miranda would say.

Paranoia or reality, she was still grateful for the distraction, and started to plan a way to catch whoever was out there.

Which was how she ended up perched in a tree, hovering over the remains of Zeus' fist, waiting for her prey to come out into the open.

When a red-eyed Will Solace came wandering into the clearing and sat on one of the boulders, Clarisse disregarded him immediately. Will was on the younger side, barely fourteen, but was still one of the most mild mannered people at camp. There was no way it was him out here snarling and hacking at rocks.

Clarisse scowled at him from her hidden perch. If he kept hanging around here, he would scare away her real target, and all this waiting would be for nothing.

Will finally stood, drawing a sword and assuming an offensive stance. Odd. She always thought Will was a bow guy. Or maybe she was just projecting Michael onto him.

The thought of Michael sent a sour taste down Clarisse's throat. She and Michael had never really gotten along, but his funeral, held right after Beckendorf's and right before Silena's, was still one of the most excruciating experiences of Clarisse's life. There were too many funerals that day.

Movement from down below brought Clarisse back to the present. Will had started up with his sword, slashing wildly at the nearest boulder. Watching him made Clarisse wince. He was clearly undertrained. Even his grip on the sword's hilt wasn't completely correct. She started sidling down the tree as he hacked and slashed with no visible tact. This wasn't a carefully designed training exercise, where he imagined the boulder was an enemy and struck its weak points accordingly. No, this was something Clarisse knew very well: a blind, wild release of anger.

Some days, you had to just run off and stab something. A lot. It was Clarisse's favorite coping mechanism, and seeing Will participate in it gave Clarisse a grudging fondness for him. But the least he could do was hold the damn sword correctly.

Down on the ground now, Clarisse crossed her arms. "Your technique is shit."

Will whirled around, eyes wide like a frightened animal. Clarisse rolled her eyes. "You need a better poker face, too. Can't run into a fight looking like you're about to shit yourself."

"Clarisse." Will blinked a few times, straightening as he regained his composure. "I didn't hear any footsteps."

"I was waiting for you." She pointed up in her tree. "Wanted to see who was making all that damn racket."

Will blushed. "Sorry."

Clarisse shrugged. "I get it." She held her hand out for the sword. "But let me show you how to hold that thing correctly, yeah?"

Will grudgingly handed over the weapon, and Clarisse demonstrated the proper grip. "Aren't you supposed to learn this shit in the arena? What do we even have this shitty-ass camp for if they don't even teach you this?"

"You seem to like the word shit," Will said as he tried out the swing Clarisse had demonstrated. "And your counselor's supposed to teach you. Lee was gonna teach me last summer. The summer of the Labyrinth, I mean." Swing. "He said twelve was too young, he'd teach me in the fall after I turned thirteen." Swing. "Obviously, that didn't happen." Swing. Will paused, took a breath too say something, paused again, and then took another swing. "I didn't want to learn from anyone other than him." Swing. Swing. "And Michael was always better with the bow, anyway." Swing.

"Okay." Clarisse put a hand on his shoulder, stopping his next swing. "Cut that out before you swing your arm out of its socket."

"Sorry." His arm dropped to his side.

Clarisse had no idea why she was doing this. She'd never looked at Will twice before— the kid was a twig, and too meek to be a fighter even if he did have the body for it. He didn't deserve the time of day from her, much less personal combat lessons.

Maybe it was some kind of guilt, some regret that she hadn't treated Michael better when she still had the chance.

She held out her hand.

"Let me show you how to block."

.

They didn't talk about it, didn't decide on a time or make a plan to keep meeting, but somehow, almost every day, they ended up in the clearing by the rockpile. Clarisse had started to bring weapons along— swords, spears, all the melee weapons she excelled at. Will already knew archery, but if he wanted to learn any long range weapons besides his bow, then he'd have to go to...

Shit. Who should he go to, now that Michael was gone? Chiron, Clarisse supposed, was now once again their long-range weapons expert. Weird.

There was realistically no need for them to continue training in the woods. There were plenty of dummies to hack up in the arena at camp. But it felt more right to do it out here. Out here in the woods, where they weren't training to service the gods, to fight another goddamn war exactly like the one that had just taken so much from them, but instead, training just so they could live with themselves for one more day.

And Clarisse figured out that that, really, was why she was doing this. She and Will couldn't be more different people, but they were both out here in the woods for the same reason— Clarisse to get away from Silena, Will to get away from Michael. She started paying more attention to the kid out of the corner of her eye and noticed that, even at camp, he wasn't carrying his bow around at all anymore.

One day, as Will was practicing jabs with a spear, he asked her: "How long have you been the Ares counselor?"

The question surprised her, but she didn't have to think to answer. "Four years. Why?"

Will stopped jabbing. "I'm the Apollo counselor now."

Clarisse blinked. She knew logically that counselorship was based on seniority, not age, but it was still difficult to think of Will as in charge of the Apollo cabin. He'd been such a non-presence at camp, always overshadowed by Lee or Michael or both. Clarisse and Annabeth had both inherited leadership of their cabins at only twelve, but somehow, a barely fourteen year old Will seemed much less equipped to step into a leadership role.

"Right," Clarisse said. "So?"

"It's just me and Austin and Kayla right now." He tried the spear jab again. "They've been at camp for a while. They know how this place works. So far, we've been able to get by just continuing to follow Michael's rules. You know, pretending that he's not gone, he's just out for the day. Every day." He stopped and sat down, pulling out a blue water bottle from between the rocks. "But next summer, when the newbies come, they won't know Michael. I'll have to be more proactive. Come up with my own rules." He studied the spearpoint. "It's weird."

Clarisse stood silently for a minute, unsure of what to say. She was never the best with words.

"I was twelve when I took over my cabin. I barely remember it." She sat on a boulder next to Will. "There was a great graduating class that year. A bunch of strong, charismatic demigods all leaving to go out in the world at once. Annabeth and I both inherited counselorships at the end of that summer. We were always neck and neck. Back then, I just saw it as another way to compete with her." Clarisse rolled out her wrist. "The newbies are so dumb, kid. You could fall face first into the dirt and they'd still be starstruck with you. Just keep them alive. If you can do that, you'll be fine."

Will laughed. "Lee did that once."

"Hm?"

"Fell face first into the ground. He came back to the cabin one night with a scrape all down his face and dirt in his hair. He said he'd accidentally stumbled into a Hermes cabin booby trap, but I think he was just trying to save face."

"See, there you go. And you still adored him, didn't you?"

"Yeah." Will's voice was small. "I did."

A memory jogged in the back of Clarisse's brain. "I remember now," she said. "When you first got to camp, you were so small. You attached yourself to Lee's thigh the first day you got here and refused to let go. I didn't even know your name the first year and a half you were here, because everyone just called you 'Little Lee'. You remember that?"

Will grinned. "I do."

"The way you felt about Lee is how the newbies will feel about you, trust me. As long as you can keep them alive, the rest of it will fall into place on its own."

Will was silent for a minute. And then— "I miss those days," he said, his eyes fixed out into the dark trees. "Back before... all this. When things were... easier."

Clarisse thought about Chris. She'd known him when he was young, before Luke started his grandiose ideas of rebellion and lured Chris, along with many other young campers, into joining him. Before he'd gotten tangled up in all that, Chris had been a sweet kid. A bit sensitive. Obsessed with his big brother Luke in much the same way Will had been obsessed with Lee.

"Yeah," Clarisse said. "Me, too."

.

The next weekend, Percy and Annabeth visited camp.

The two of them had chosen to leave camp for the school year, spending their time in New York City instead, which was just fine with Clarisse. Percy had never been a year-rounder, and Annabeth hadn't stayed at camp over the winter since she was twelve.

But rebuilding after the war was hard work, and the younger campers adored both of them. Even if they didn't live here anymore, they visited every couple weeks. Clarisse didn't have to ask to find out when they were coming— the crowd of younger campers sitting by the camp border was enough to tell her that Percy and Annabeth were on their way. Clarisse didn't speak with them much, merely shared a head nod with Annabeth, but it was a relief to see them still alive. Not that she'd ever admit that to them.

And she wasn't heartless. She saw the way the younger campers lit up around Percy especially. When he and Annabeth visited, the whole mood of the camp changed for the better.

Will Solace, however, seemed to be a dissenting opinion.

When Clarisse wandered into the clearing for their daily lessons, Will was already there, hacking at some training dummies he'd dragged out from the arena.

Clarisse didn't say anything, merely perched on a boulder and started sharpening her spear.

Finally, when Will's sword started to slow down, Clarisse said: "You should focus more on guarding your left side. It's way too open."

"Thanks," he said, but he didn't sound grateful at all.

"Annabeth and Percy are here." Clarisse figured that, like everybody else at camp, Will would light up at the mention of the two. Maybe he'd even run off to go see them.

Instead, he kept swinging at the dummies, only humming a response.

"Annabeth said something about a quest for Hermes," Clarisse tried again. "And apparently, they took a vacation to Paris."

Will's grip tightened on his sword. "Good for them." He sliced the head off of one of the dummies. "I guess."

Clarisse had to stop herself from laughing. Will was like a feral kitten. Despite all his ferocity, it was just impossible to see him as threatening.

"They're not so bad, kid." She admired her spearpoint. "Not when you talk to them. They're only obnoxious from a distance."

Will finally stopped swinging now, looking at Clarisse instead. "I'm surprised to hear that from you," he said. "I thought you hated them. Especially Percy."

"I did. But..." Clarisse sighed. "There are better things to be pissed about. Better people."

"Like who?"

"The gods, for one."

Will snorted. "You sound like Luke."

He said it sarcastically, like it was a joke. But Clarisse immediately stiffened, her grip on her spear tightening. "Don't you ever fucking say that to me again."

Will looked surprised, and he took a step back from her. "I— I'm sorry. I just meant—"

"I know what you meant."

Will watched her for a long moment. "You knew Luke," he said finally. "I mean, before."

"Yeah." Her grip slowly relaxed. "You didn't?"

He shook his head. "I got here the year after he went full supervillain." He tapped his fingers against his side. "What was he like? I mean… before."

Clarisse sighed. "Depends. Do you mean before, or before before?"

"...I don't follow."

"Before before was before he went on his quest. Back then, he was nice. Very involved with the... community. Always looking out for the younger campers. Chris adored him. So did Silena. I mean, everyone loved him. He— he was so— he..." She growled in frustration. She never seemed to be able to find the right words when trying to say something important. "He was the Percy before Percy," she said finally.

At this, Will's face melted into understanding. He nodded at her to keep going. "What about after the quest?"

"After that quest… he was different. More distant. He still did his head counsellor duties and stuff, but only what was required of him. And he started spending a lot of time alone. After the campfire every night, he'd wander out into the woods, walking around by himself for hours. And then he started talking... about Olympus, about how maybe we'd be better off without the gods. We should've seen it coming. I have no idea how we didn't."

Will hesitated. "You don't seem too keen on the Olympians yourself," he said carefully.

Clarisse shook her head. "I'm not like him. I just— I hate that any of us got dragged into their mess. Maybe you don't understand. You've only ever been here during wartime. But it's not supposed to be like this. Before Luke started his stupid fucking uprising, things were peaceful. Most of the time, nobody died. In the three years I was here before Luke went nutbar, we only had one death. One." She paused. "If Silena had been born a few years earlier or later… Beckendorf, Lee, Michael, any of them. If they'd been just a little early or a little late, they would've survived. We're not supposed to fucking bury fifteen of our friends on the same day. It's not supposed to be like this."

Will was silent for a long while. Then he said: "Hm."

"What?"

"The champion daughter of the god of war, hating a war because of how it tore her life apart. It's ironic, or something."

Clarisse scoffed. "'Champion daughter.' I used to be proud of that."

"You're not anymore?"

Clarisse was silent.

"Do you..." Will took a step toward Clarisse. "Do you blame Luke? For Silena, and... everything else?"

Clarisse laughed bitterly. "I mean, it's kinda hard to not. Silena and Chris, they both loved him. Wanted to impress him. And he used that to draw them into shit they didn't understand... draw them into his stupid war." She shook her head, some bubbling kind of rage fueling her to keep going. "Silena only wanted to help, you know. She was always trying to help people. Luke came to her alone, started talking about the good old days, asked her to help him. To help." Her fists clenched. "In the end, Silena was so crushed by the guilt of being his spy that she didn't care whether she lived or died. That's really why she was killed. She was too guilty to try to stop it. And that manipulative little weasel was the one who led her right into that guilt." Will slowly sat next to her, but Clarisse barely noticed. "I'll never forgive him."

Will was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry about her. I know you two were... close."

Close. That's what they were. Best friends. It was the truth, but maybe not the whole truth. Not that the truth really mattered anymore.

"Whatever," she said. "Point is, Luke was a fucking bastard. I'd kill him myself if he wasn't already dead."

She wasn't sure how she expected Will to react, but a smile certainly wasn't it.

She wheeled to face him, hand instinctively going for her spear. "What?"

"I— I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't laugh. It's not funny. It's just... I haven't heard anyone talk about him so honestly like that. In camp, it's all hero talk, y'know? Even you don't say that kind of stuff, not out there."

"Yeah." Clarisse tapped the shaft of her spear. "Well, you know. Annabeth's sake."

"...That's fair." But he didn't seem satisfied with her answer.

Clarisse squinted. "What's got you so bitter about them, anyways?"

"Annabeth and Percy?"

Clarisse nodded.

"I don't know." Will stood and turned to the next dummy, swinging at it halfheartedly. "I guess just seeing them be all lovey-dovey bothers me. I mean, I'm happy for them and all, but... am I allowed to say too soon?"

"You think just because you're miserable, everyone else has to be miserable too?"

"No. But how are they not miserable?" Will jammed his sword into the dirt, leaving it sticking out of the earth like a toothpick. "After everything that just happened? They can just leave camp and move on? I don't understand it."

Clarisse didn't know what to say. She was silent until Will looked up at her, clearly waiting for an answer.

"I dunno, kid," was all she could think to say. "I've never been the best with feelings."

Will sighed. "Neither have I." He sat down hard on the rock next to her.

"All I can tell you is that I've known Annabeth since I was nine." Clarisse crossed her legs. "And I know that she cares a lot. About everything. That's part of what makes her so goddamn annoying." Will laughed a little at that. "But it's also what makes her good. If I know Annabeth at all, then I can tell you that she's probably taking this a lot harder than it seems." She shrugged. "Some people are just better at hiding it."

"...And what about Percy?"

"Well, Percy's a dumbass." Will laughed again. "And even more annoying than Annabeth, somehow. But he doesn't take the suffering of others lightly."

Will thought for a moment. "I remember in the Battle of Manhattan," he said. "Percy was giving orders, positioning our troops... he looked completely in his element. It felt… natural to follow him." He looked at Clarisse out of the corner of his eye. "You should've seen him."

And she tried to not let that sting, tried to not let the implied you should have been there, why weren't you there reach her core. She thought again about Michael. He was already dead by the time Clarisse showed up to the battle, which meant that as he lay dying, Clarisse was probably kicking her feet up at camp, sharpening her spear.

She wondered how many kids at camp secretly harbored some bitterness against her for the deaths and suffering they endured while her stubborn ass sat at home.

Clarisse swallowed thickly. "I wish I had."

It was only a vague statement of remorse, but still more of an apology than she'd ever given anyone else. Will seemed to understand this, and his face melted into a small smile. He stood and offered Clarisse a hand to help her up.

"Will you spar with me?"

.

A few days later, Will's could last nearly twenty seconds against Clarisse.

Not bad at all. On that first day after he asked her to spar with him, she'd been able to beat him in three seconds or less. But he was getting used to this now. Getting used to the way she fought.

Clarisse knocked his sword out of his hand, and with one well-placed kick, sent him falling to the ground, flat on his back.

She pointed her spear at his throat. "Nice blocking. Soon you might be able to last a full minute against me."

Will accepted her hand and let her pull him back up. "And how long until I'm able to beat you?"

Clarisse laughed harder than she had in weeks. "Never, kid. You beat me and I'll eat my shirt."

Will grinned. "Challenge accepted." He got in a defensive stance. "Come at me again."

Fifteen seconds, and he was flat on his ass.

"How do you even do that?" Will asked, pushing himself back up. "You move too fast."

"Have you forgotten that I've had six years of year-round training in melee combat? And you've had, like, two weeks?"

"Yeah, yeah. Let me try again."

Twelve seconds.

"Damn!" Will didn't get back up this time. Instead, he flopped backwards into the dirt. "Okay, I need a break."

Clarisse laughed. "Hey, I was just getting warmed up." But she sat next to him anyway, tossing him his water bottle. Will took a long sip of it, then tilted his head back to stare at the sky.

"I haven't thanked you," he said finally. "For... all of this."

"Don't worry about it, kid. Hacking at rocks is one of my favorite pastimes."

She meant it as a joke, but Will didn't laugh. "I'm serious." He sat up to look at her. "I know you don't normally do this kind of thing. It... goes against your reputation."

Clarisse rolled her eyes.

"Honestly," Will continued, "I was surprised you even bothered to talk to me. I thought you would just wave your spear and run me off."

A beat of silence passed as Clarisse considered what to say next. "Are you asking me why I'm doing this?"

"Yeah." Will pulled his legs into a crisscross. "I am."

Clarisse sighed. "I don't know, kid." She fiddled with her spear. "Silena... Silena was always good at this kind of thing. Giving advice. Helping the younger campers."

Will just nodded. Like most campers, he tended to get quiet when the subject of Silena came up.

Clarisse wasn't stupid. She noticed the way their eyes flicked to her and their voices lowered to whispers whenever they discussed Silena around her. She wasn't sure whether to be thankful or insulted.

Will swished the water around in his water bottle— out of nervousness or boredom, Clarisse couldn't tell. "Well," he said. "I just wanted to say thank you. It's been nice... to talk to you."

Nice to talk to Clarisse? No one had ever said that before.

Well. First time for everything.

"And..." Will hesitated. "I'm glad to learn some new fighting skills. Especially since..." He reached for the sword he'd been using. "Well, I'm not really using my bow anymore. I haven't touched it since the battle."

"I noticed you weren't carrying it."

Will nodded. "After Lee died, Michael was supposed to train me. I was still upset about Lee, and I didn't want to learn from anyone else. I refused to participate. Michael surprised me one day with that bow. He said Lee had it specially made for me, and he was going to give it to me when he started training me, but he never got the chance. The bow was the only thing I let Michael train me in." Will scoffed. "Lee made me the bow, and Michael taught me how to use it. Now they're both gone. I'm starting to think the thing is cursed."

A cold breeze blew through the clearing. It was October now, and fiery leaves coated the entire forest floor. As the wind blew, a handful of leaves were blown above Clarisse and Will's heads. A particularly red one got caught in Will's hair.

"I see her everywhere," Clarisse said. "Silena. I even see her in myself." She reached up to touch her face without thinking, her hand coming to rest on the mole on her cheek that Silena would always poke to get Clarisse's attention. "I can't stand it. All the reminders. That's why I'm out here."

"But aren't you supposed—" Will was watching her closely, but he sat as still as a scarecrow. "I mean, isn't it good that there's still parts of her left here? That means she's not really gone."

"Why won't you touch your bow, then?" Clarisse shook her head. "You see them in your bow. Both of them. I understand why you don't want anything to do with it. It's too... It's too... much."

Will nodded slowly. "I see what you're saying."

Another gust of wind left both of them silent. Will opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. A dryad's laughter echoed from somewhere within the woods.

Will took a deep breath, and opened his mouth again. "...Were you in love with her?"

Clarisse's blood turned to ice. "What?"

She supposed she must have had a pretty fearsome look on her face, because Will started to backpedal. "Sorry, I— I don't mean to be invasive. I'm just curious. I mean, the way you talk about her sometimes..."

Clarisse leapt to her feet, pointing her spear at Will's chest as her face twisted into a snarl. "It's none of your business, punk."

But Will didn't flinch. "I had a crush on Charlie," he said. "I mean, I know it's not the same. He barely knew I existed. But I... I'm saying I understand, at least a little bit."

Clarisse's grip on her spear was so tight, she thought she might break it. "No," she said harshly. "You don't understand. You can't."

She turned and stormed off into the trees, knocking Will's pile of training weapons off of a boulder as she went.

.

For the next week, Clarisse didn't go out into the woods at all.

At first, Chris was delighted. As far as he knew, her long afternoon walks in the forest were solitary and sulking. He probably thought that her staying in the camp all day was a sign that she was coming back to her usual self.

But he changed his tune pretty quickly. Clarisse could barely bring herself to look at him. Even confined to the camp, she tried to avoid him as much as possible.

If she was being honest, she had known the truth about her feelings for a long time. But she had never let herself admit it. It wouldn't be fair to Chris.

It wasn't like she didn't love him, too. Chris had been her friend for years, since before Luke's little uprising, before the politics of gods and titans had stolen their childhoods. He was a close friend of hers, and she cared about him deeply. She had just assumed that meant he would be a great boyfriend as well.

And he was. Caring, patient, respectful of her boundaries. Everything a girl could ask for.

And yet... when her mind wandered late at night, it was never Chris that her thoughts latched onto.

So she had known, for a long time, but was able to ignore it. Ignore it as Silena and Beckendorf became the camp's new it couple. Ignore it as Silena unraveled after Beckendorf's death. Ignore it as the campers walked on eggshells around her after Silena was gone, avoiding any mention of the daughter of Aphrodite for fear of setting Clarisse off.

It took someone saying it out loud for her to face it.

She spent a week like this, absorbed in panic about what to do next, snapping at anyone who tried to talk to her, and refusing to look her boyfriend in the eye.

And then Will Solace sat down at the Ares table in the middle of dinner.

The campers stared. Sitting at any other table was already risky enough, but at the Ares table? Will was lucky he didn't get stabbed on the spot.

If Will noticed the glares and growls he was eliciting from the Ares campers, he didn't show it. His gaze was fixed on Clarisse.

"I'm sorry," he said plainly. "I didn't mean to pry."

Clarisse stabbed her fork into her mashed potatoes. Half of her wanted to strangle the kid in front of everyone. But camping out at the Ares table took balls, and Will's eyes were steely. Maybe he was tougher than she'd given him credit for.

Clarisse spoke without thinking. "We'll do spears tomorrow."

Will's serious look melted as a huge grin broke out over his face. Seemingly satisfied with the promise of continued lessons, he got up and disappeared back to his own table.

Sherman Yang turned to Clarisse. "What the hell was that about?"

Clarisse waved him off. "Dumb kid wants a sparring match."

Sherman snorted. "You'll destroy him."

"Yeah." Her fingers drummed on the hilt of her spear. "I will."

.

Clarisse liked all melee weapons, but spears were her true passion.

By this point, she'd given Will at least a couple lessons in everything: swords, dual-wielded swords, shields, spears, even nunchucks. He had an okay grasp on the basics, and had shown at least a marginal interest in learning more advanced techniques. Clarisse was happy to oblige, if only for the chance to show off.

Today, Clarisse whacked and jabbed with her spear, leaving the poor boulder she was set on scratched and damaged.

Will sat on a nearby boulder, clapping and oohing whenever necessary. He tried a few of the more advanced moves himself, but his manipulation of the weapon was still slow and unwieldy.

"No," Clarisse said. "Look, I'll show you again."

They continued on like that for a while, Clarisse trying her best to help Will's form while continually demonstrating. But she wasn't the best teacher, and Will had only just gotten a hold of the basics. Eventually, they gave up, choosing to sit in the dirt and nurse their water bottles instead.

"Sorry I'm hopeless," Will said as they sat down.

"You'll get there one day. Maybe."

Will laughed, and they drifted into silence. It was still autumn, still red and orange and chilly in a refreshing way, but it would turn to winter soon. The color would be leached out of the forest. The cold would become unbearable.

It didn't feel right for the seasons to keep changing like this. It had been two months, now, since the Battle of Manhattan. Two months since they'd lost Silena and so many others. It felt like it had happened a thousand years ago. And it also felt like yesterday.

The wave of fury that tore through her after Silena's death echoed in her again every single morning. It faded with each day, became less intense and less soul-encompassing, but it was still definitely there. Clarisse had felt it the second she opened her eyes this morning, when she saw the pattern the sunlight was making on the ceiling of the Ares cabin. Clarisse had craned her head toward the window to see that the pattern was coming from the carved prism Silena had given to her. A prism made of rose quartz. It was the only pink thing Clarisse had ever owned, but she made an exception for Silena.

She made a lot of exceptions for Silena. The newest of which: she had never before been so bitter about a fallen comrade. She'd been sad, of course. Burning a burial shroud for one of her siblings was always devastating, especially if they'd been under her command when they fell. But she'd never been so angry about it, angry enough to doubt the entire cause she was fighting for.

But Silena, as always, was the exception.

The champion daughter of the god of war, hating a war because of how it tore her life apart. It's ironic, or something.

It was ironic. How her love for Silena had made her regret the war in its entirety. How Silena's element had made Clarisse despise her own.

Clarisse took a breath to speak. In the silent clearing, even that was enough to draw Will out of his own thoughts and pull his attention toward her.

She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye.

"Of course I was in love with her, Will." Her voice was hoarse. "Of course I was."

Will let a beat of silence pass. A gust of wind blew through and tugged at Clarisse's bandana. When Will spoke again, he sounded gentle.

"I'm sorry. It must have been painful."

She bent her knees and hung her head between them in an attempt to hide her burning eyes. "You'd better not tell Chris," she muttered, "Unless you want to have a spearpoint jammed between your eyes." But her threat was empty of any actual malice. "I still don't know... I'm still figuring it out."

"Your secret's safe with me."

Clarisse tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sniff. "Y'know, kid, you're not so bad."

He bumped her shoulder with his own. "I try."

He sat in silence with her for a long time, waiting patiently as she fought back tears.

.

A few days later, when she arrived in the clearing, she was surprised to find Will holding his bow.

"Finally picked it up again, did you?"

He let an arrow fly, and it hit a training dummy in the chest. "I'm a little rusty after two months, but it's good to be shooting again." He went to notch another arrow. "I thought as a thank-you for teaching me so much, I'd try to teach you something in return."

Clarisse snorted. "I'm not interested in learning your prissy long-range weapons."

Will smiled. "Come on. Just give it a try."

Clarisse stared at him for a second. Then she sighed and tossed her spear on the ground. "I'll shoot it a couple times, for fun. But I really don't care enough to learn."

Will seemed satisfied with that. He handed her his bow.

Clarisse fiddled with it for a second, making sure the arrow was notched correctly. She had, of course, taken archery classes with Chiron when she was young, but once she started specializing in close-range combat, she stopped archery lessons in order to have more time in her schedule to train close-range.

She drew, aimed, and fired. Hit the dummy in the stomach. Too low.

"Good," Will said. "Almost perfect. Bend your elbow more next time."

Clarisse sighed loudly, but notched another arrow. She did as Will instructed, and this time, hit the dummy square in the chest, her arrow landing right next to Will's.

"Wow," Will said. "And you said you've never done this before?"

"Not since I was twelve."

Will shook his head. "Dang. I'm impressed. Must be those Ares combat genes."

"I guess." Clarisse handed him his bow.

"You don't want to keep shooting?"

She shook her head.

"Why not?"

She wrinkled her nose. "It's so... unsatisfying. It feels so much better to go and pummel your enemy directly. Standing from afar and sending a tiny little arrow to do your work for you... it feels like a waste of good murderous intent. Like, there's so many better ways to do it, you know?"

Will laughed. "'Good murderous intent.' I've never heard that before." He shrugged. "Well, whatever you say." He shot another arrow, this time hitting the dummy in the head. "But I think it's pretty satisfying."

Clarisse fetched her spear and turned to the untouched dummy Will had set out for her. "Are you the new archery guy, then?"

"Archery guy?"

"Yeah. Y'know, the guy to go to if anyone wants to learn archery."

"Oh." Will shook his head. "Nah, not me. Kayla, probably."

"Who?"

"My sister, Kayla. She's an archery prodigy. I look totally amateurish next to her." He let another arrow fly, and it hit the dummy right between the eyes.

"Huh." Clarisse vaguely remembered a young redheaded girl from the Apollo cabin, though she never paid that much attention to the newbies. Odd to think that this random kid she'd never talked to was now taking over the mantle of the camp archery expert. "Well, I guess there's always someone."

Will glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... there's always gonna be newbies to fill the roles at camp. You know, the archery expert, the pranksters, the it couple." She thought of how easily Percy and Annabeth had slotted into Beckendorf and Silena's spot. Already she had heard Aphrodite girls cooing about how cute Annabeth and Percy were, and they hadn't even been together for a full season. "People come and go, but no matter what, their shoes always find a way to be filled."

Will smiled. "You're right." He'd run out of arrows now, and turned to face her completely. "Camp will always be camp."

But it was hard to be here now, with all the shadows of the past versions of camp hanging over her. The kids kept getting younger and younger. Who did these toddlers think they were, trying to take real campers' spots? That should be Micheal. That should be Silena.

"I think I might go to college next year." Clarisse surprised herself nearly as much as she surprised Will.

"Yeah? Where?"

"Dunno. Somewhere in Arizona. U of, probably."

Will nodded. "You seem like a state school kind of person."

She glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing!" He raised his hands in surrender. "Just, y'know, that I think you'd like it more than some prissy liberal arts college." He failed to suppress his smile.

Clarisse snorted. "Nice save, Solace."

Will went to fetch his arrows. "What made you think about college?"

"Nothing. Just... it sorta feels like I'm outgrowing this place. Or I'm... mismatched with it. I dunno."

Will nodded. "You've had quite the career here. Makes sense to me to move on to something new."

Clarisse shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with a discussion of her career. "What about you?"

"Me?" Will laughed. "I'm just getting started!" He bounded back towards Clarisse with a full quiver, all energy and smiles. "I'll have even more adventures than you've had, just you wait."

Clarisse raised an eyebrow. "If all goes well, kid, there won't be any more adventures for you to have."

"Right. Because things always go so well here."

Clarisse smiled. "Fair enough."

Will started humming a song as he shot at the dummy again.

"You're much more cheerful than you were the first time I saw you here," she noticed.

"Yeah, well." Will shrugged. "Like I said last week, it's been good to talk to you. You're better at advice than you think."

Clarisse stared at him. "You're weird, kid."

He laughed. "Maybe I am." He slung his bow over his back. "But good things are ahead. I know it."

"You got some kind of prophecy power from your dad?"

"Nah." He was still grinning. "Just a feeling."

"Well, let's hope your 'feeling' is right." Clarisse readied her spear. "In the meantime, how about you grab one of those training swords and let me kick your ass again?"

Will's nose was red from the cold, but his smile was warm, and his eyes were clear and blue. He lifted a sword and got in a defensive position. "With pleasure."