It was a matter of seconds for her to string a bow, the motions coming to her so very simply, and Harriet could only be grateful for all her training as she gave the bowstring a tug and found she could draw it well enough. Arrows were similarly as easy for her to find, though a flash of gold told her they wouldn't be quite as effective as the bronze-tipped arrows she had seen in visions before – of others who'd found camp and had acquired the weapons needed to deal with those monsters which always dogged their footsteps.

Scissors were a heavy weight in her pocket, comforting just like the black bracelet wrapped around her wrist, even as she breathed in the eerie silence which fell in the aftermath. The sounds of her own breathing filled her ears as she stalked towards the deformed door, arrow resting on the string, blood rushing through her ears as she narrowed her eyes and yanked the clawed sheet of metal inwards.

Outside, the forest loomed, dark and imposing, tree branches swaying in winds which seemed to be picking up. Dead leaves skittered across the dirt track, the shadows of the archery range deep and unfathomable. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, that sound and her breathing seeming like the pounding of a drum.

Harriet edged forwards, ready for the first attack – an attack which never came. There was no leaping figure, no flash of gold to tell her what her to expect. A shaky breath left her, ears straining to pick up even the slightest of sounds. Panic surged, part of her wondering what was going on. She was there. She was bleeding prey ripe for the picking.

Rustling in the undergrowth stole her attention, and she could only watch as a scaled, lithe body slunk from the bushes with a cat-like grace. Sharp fangs gleamed in the light, slitted amber eyes locked on her still form as a forked tongue snaked out from behind those ever so sharp teeth. The same sharp teeth which sought to end her life that very night. The same sharp teeth which would have ripped into her friend-siblings and killed them. A flash of gold confirmed her suspicions, teeth grinding together as she watched that creature feast upon the corpses of her brethren in another future.

She lifted her bow, arrow on the string ready and waiting to be drawn. Yet that creature was fast, and would dodge the arrow it would see coming towards it. Harriet blinked, mind working a mile a minute for once as her power stirred in her chest, warping the light around her arrow until nothing could be seen on her string. It could only dodge what it saw, after all. A grin curled at her lips—

Claws sunk into her back, a shriek of pain escaping her, even as instincts had her rolling forwards towards that cat-like reptile and out of the way of those claws which had raked down her back. She was on her hands and knees in moments, bow still in her stinging grip as she winced at the stickiness she could feel on the back of her shirt. Blood trickled from the deep grooves sliced into her back, breath catching in her throat as she caught sight of the second, near identical creature which had pounced on her from above.

"Shit," she muttered, scrambling to her feet in record time, even as a haunting cackle of laughter akin to that of a hyena's grated against her ears. There was more than one of them, she realised belatedly, heart sinking as more cat-like bodies slunk from the shadows of the undergrowth until she was surrounded on all sides.

Sharp claws dug into the mulch, and Harriet readied her bow, back feeling as though it were on fire as she concealed her arrow once more and readied herself to aim and fire at her first target. She needed to trim their number down. Her breathing stilled, panic coming to claw at the eaves of her mind as she wondered if that time she might have bitten off a bit more than she could chew.

"You worry too much," she had told her mother before leaving for Camp Lagoon. "I'll come back just fine – you'll see!"

Her fingers twitched, eyes narrowing on her target as she readied her aim. Like Styx she was going to break that promise with her mother. Though perhaps the fine part of her promise was debatable, given she had a clawed-up back at that moment in time. The string slipped from her fingers, her bow singing as she fired her first arrow, invisible as it was. Her aim rang true, arrow seeming to follow the creature even as it tried to duck out of the way of the unseen.

It collapsed, an arrow through its throat, not seeming to move again though its reptilian eyes were open. Vaguely, Harriet thought there was something wrong with that – but she had more things to be worried about than a collapsed monster.

Nine was down to eight – which was eight more than she had been hoping for or had prepared for. Feet moved without a conscious thought, Harriet letting her fight-or-flight instincts taking over as she ran through the breach in the encirclement she'd made for herself. Gold-tinted vision guided her, throwing in her face ideal terrains which would give her a much needed advantage over her foes.

Somewhere narrow was more ideal – narrow, but without a way for the creatures to pounce on her from above. Fingers stole another arrow from her quiver, notching it on her bowstring as she ran on. Either that or some place she could safely turn her back to without fear of being routed and attacked from behind – which was undoubtedly not there, running willy-nilly though a forest as she was.

Gold flashed across her vision, and Harriet spun, the short vision of one of those creature leaping down from a tree branch to crash down upon her making her draw her bowstring and fire on instinct. She knew better than to ignore those short, snapshot visions. Things which, she had learnt thanks to the Minotaur, were telling for when there was an imminent threat to her life. Her arrow flew true, piercing through its neck, a cry of pain reaching her, but it didn't turn to gold dust as so many other monsters had in her visions. Rather, the barely living body of the creature slammed down on top of her with a meaty thud and her bow slipped from her grip as her hands reached out to catch herself, skidding across the ground to wind up just out of reach.

Air huffed out of her lungs at the impact, part of her cursing as she found her lower body stuck under a heavy corpse-to-be. "Dammit," she muttered, wondering why nothing ever seemed to go to plan for her. Normal arrows didn't scatter or absorb a monster's essence, meaning it was harder to kill them and turn them into that golden dust with such weapons. Which meant that she was about to abandon stealth entirely, Harriet mused, glaring at the cat-like lizard which had thrown a wrench in her plans. "Guess daddy dearest will know I'm here," she grumbled, panic thrumming through her veins as a ball of light came into existence between her fingers. Lumos. Stealth wasn't important as living, after all, even with the possibility of a death sentence looming over her head like an axe.

She had lived with one before.

Harriet wondered if that was why she didn't feel the same well of terror which she had when facing the Minotaur. She wondered why there was that odd, numb sensation in her chest as those creatures leapt for her, intent to end her life once and for all.

Though that had never been an easy thing to do for her enemies.

Power thrummed in her chest, the ball of light growing and growing, golden eyes watching as those creatures cackled and leapt for her, jaws and claws ready to rip into her flesh and feast. Light burned beneath her fingers, blinding her vision, exploding outwards as the largest beam of light she'd ever managed to summon burnt through the trees in a brilliant flare. Harriet blinked, the spots of light slowly fading from her vision as she stared at the aftermath of her abilities. At the destruction she had once again caused to her surroundings. It almost looked like a train had carved a path through the woods. If trains incinerated things in their path that was. Glowing red edges of trees and other debris, charred and scorching hot, met her gaze as a familiar coppery taste greeted the back of her throat.

The world spun, the gaping circle of destruction stretching as far as the eye could see as she stared at the pathway of incinerated trees and foliage. Even the ground had been carved out, a level groove being burnt into its surface which was charred black. Nothing had been spared. A familiar crackling sound met her ears, the scent of burning reaching her nose as she flailed beneath the monster which was somehow still clinging to life atop her.

Fingers reached down into her pocket, finding the cool metal of her scissors, remembering finally that those were made from celestial bronze. And there was no longer the threat of those other creatures – thanks to the sheer destruction she had caused. Harriet wondered if there was a Greek god of forests, and whether or not they despised her after such a stunt. Blood leaked down from her nose in a continuous stream, head pounding as she stabbed her scissors into the nearest chink in it's armour of scales.

She fell back on her front, heaving and panting, and it was only a few moments later that she felt the weight on her legs vanish and a thick layer of golden dust coat her skin. Black spots filled her vision, a ringing sound in her ear, the power beneath her skin feeling as though it was burning her as she lay there on the ground, face pressed against the dirt.

Dimly, she thought she heard the sounds of something rustling in the undergrowth, and she tried to push herself to her feet. Part of her almost regretted using her photokinesis abilities – because they took a lot out of her. Yet plague would hardly have helped her, and archery was useless without a bow. It wasn't like she could control the former either. Photokinesis and archery were the only abilities she had truly experimented with. There wasn't really much time to regret such a thing.

Fire crackled in the corners of her vision, dry, fallen leaves and other dead foliage having caught alight, and Harriet could only mentally curse as she tried to push herself to her feet once more. There would be a terrible sense of irony if it was her own actions and abilities which killed her rather than monsters or gods.

Flames licked up the tree closest to her, having caught on something flammable, and Harriet could only try to feebly crawl back towards where she thought camp was. Which direction was that again? Harriet frowned, trying to gather her thoughts into something resembling coherency. There was a forest beginning to burn down around her, and she needed to get out of the vicinity of it. If only her body would cooperate with her.

A moan of pain escaped her, and Harriet cracked her eyes open from where she hadn't realised she'd shut them.

Reptilian eyes met her own from an infinitely short distance away. Her heart stuttered, golden eyes widening as she realised that she had missed one, and she was no longer in any state to fight. More pressing was the need to get out of there.

Cackling cut off halfway, the monster before her turning into golden dust, a silver arrow clattering to the ground as golden dust filled the air. "Oh," Harriet mumbled, barely able to turn her head to spy the figure who walked out from beneath the boughs of a burning tree. The fire was spreading far too quickly, Harriet mused, wondering if there was something else at play there.

"Are thee able to stand?" a voice rang out, and Harriet could only blink, staring at the figure almost wreathed by flames. A shuddering, creaking sound rang out – the sound of a tree uprooting, and Harriet stared, frozen, as the tree nearest to her began to fall towards her.

Breath caught in her throat, part of her wondering if that was somehow the end for her – if her ending was to die, crushed to death by a tree of all things.

All almighty crack rent the air, and then there was no longer ground beneath her. The earth split open, whispers of rage brushing against her skin as she slipped into the infinitely deep chasm which had opened right underneath her. She fell, watching as the pretty, familiar archer girl reached for her too late.

"And one shall perish by a parent's hand," she mumbled, catching sight of one more figure before blackness came up to greet her.

A lady stood in the burning forest, dressed in a black dress, her face covered by a veil which had fluttered in a non-existent breeze, revealing lips curled up into a smile and eyes closed as though she were asleep.

::

There was an inexplicable, vexing mystery lain before him, and it came in the form of one of his children. She was a slip of a girl with golden hair and golden eyes, and that was about as much as he knew about her – one of his children who by all rights he should have known nearly everything about.

One of his domains was knowledge, after all, and none would escape him.

Still, he supposed, there might have been an element of him almost grateful to the little slip of a child. She was, after all, the reason he had to waltz the earth, accidentally bumping into all his other children on the way.

Even after all those years, after all those demigods sired, part of him wondered why he still did such things. What point there was to being proud over the accomplishments of beings who were like flames – bright and yet inevitably snuffed out and extinguished from existence. Yet such thoughts never stopped him. It was fun, and that was all the reasoning he needed. Not to mention the bragging rights whenever one of his children inevitably achieved something great…

"Father will not let this continue, you understand…" One perfectly shaped eyebrow arched, the grey eyes of the disguise his sister had chosen to don peering back at him. "The others are beginning to notice how much time you spend brazenly breaking one of the ancient laws. They are beginning to talk."

"So let them," he said, resting his head in his hand as he wondered about that unknown quantity – the being daring to conceal one of his children from him. A child who was an oracle to boot. "Father told me to find my darling plague child and have them delivered to camp through any means. Who am I to disobey father?" he asked, a smile curving at his lips, despite the sudden sharp increase in work a pandemic, of all things, had caused him.

A pandemic caused by a tiny slip of a girl who couldn't have been more than ten mortal years, if that. His eyes darkened. No child of his should have been able to do such a thing at such an age. That was something he knew, and yet such a thing had happened.

"Apollo," his sister spoke once more, a hard glint appearing in her eyes. She was concerned for him. How sweet. "You should have found your child already and delivered them to Chiron. The longer you spend here, the worse the consequences will be – and I am not simply speaking about what Father will say or do." She stared at him, and Apollo could only smile, a dark and almost sombre thing. Of course his sister would be all to capable of bringing out that side of him. The side he usually concealed behind smiles and cheeriness.

"Artemis," he said, voice tight with barely concealed fury. Who would like having a failing all but shoved in their face? He couldn't find his golden-eyed plague-spreading daughter – him. "Do you truly think I wouldn't have found my daughter by now if I could?" he asked, watching as his sister frowned at him. "Someone," he spoke, eyes turning gold as a slumbering rage started to stir. "Someone dares to conceal one of my children from me."

Silence reigned for a few moments, the thought of his two children sleeping in two separate cabins in that summer camp ensuring his rage subsided ever so slightly. Even if their threads were destined to be snipped all too soon. How he sometimes loathed a thing called fate which dared to take what was his away and out from his grasp and sight.

Yet mortals died as they always did, and demigods, while partly divine, were always born, unquestionably, insufferably mortal.

"Have you figured out who does such a thing?" she questioned.

A harsh snort escaped him. "Believe me, lil sis – if I knew who was doing such a thing, don't you think you would already be aware?" His fingers twitched, part of feeling restless as night descended upon them, familiar whispers of the world – of prophecy – flashing before him, showing him his darling little golden-eyed destruction-causing child. But none of it helped him locate her. All it did was tell him of her uncanny likeness to him in more ways than one.

A child of his so different to Asclepius.

His child.

The thought made something dark stir inside him, something he kept repressed and refined in the later ages of that world. Once the heart of the West had moved to America. Golden eyes glittered behind closed eyelids, her image forever branded there – a sight he would never forget, just like the possibilities of her wrath, godlike and consuming as it could be.

He'd never had a daughter with golden eyes before.

A child with his grandfather's eyes.

Part of him wondered how father would deal with such a revelation.

"I will have my hunters keep an eye out for a child of yours," she stated, and Apollo could only nod at that as silence came to reign between them once more.

Which was naturally, of course, when the world exploded in a flare of golden light.

::

"Shh," a voice – a familiar voice – murmured, and Harriet could only groan ever so slightly as she forced open her eyes. The last thing she remembered was that strange lady and falling—

"Huh?" she managed, spitting out strands of pale blonde hair which had fallen into her mouth.

The being from the train, the god, looked down at her where she rested, tucked against his chest, arms holding her in place as they walked somewhere inside that train. The same train she had only ever dreamed of, which begged the question of whether or not she was unconscious right then and there. "Rest now," he said, and Harriet only blinked and rested her cheek back against him. She felt horribly tired, and it wasn't like she could rest her head anywhere else. "Can you not feel your divinity burning you from within, foolish champion?"

Harriet wondered about that, thinking of the power which bubbled and sizzled beneath flimsy mortal skin. Her vision flared gold at the edges, the sight of the burning forest, a fallen, flaming tree and a slight fissure in the ground which she remembered being a lot wider when she had fallen into it. One moment there was nothing but flames and the crackling, popping sound of burning trees, and the next there was an all too familiar figure standing amidst those trees. Her father stepped forwards, untouched by the flames surrounding him, eyeing up the place she had been and the place she definitely still wasn't. Harriet could only wonder where exactly she was in body right then and there. Her breath caught in her throat as her father leant down, picking up something which had almost been covered by ash.

Blue eyes narrowed, a sigh piercing the air as her father stood there with that damning object in his hands.

Celestial bronze scissors gleamed in his grasp, the vision before her vanishing up in smoke, and something cold closed around Harriet's heart. He knew. Harriet wasn't entirely certain of how she knew when he had just picked up her scissors, but there was no denying the fact that her father knew what those scissors meant for her.

"Though I suppose you are satisfied," her god said, stirring her from the revelations of her vision and the cold, all-consuming fear engulfing her. She hadn't been prepared in the slightest for her father to know, in hindsight. Ever for her hindsight was twenty-twenty. A low, long breath escaped her. "You have done what you set out to do."

Two strings appeared before her, the frayed edges twisting until they were creating a new section of string. "I did it," Harriet mumbled, wondering if there would ever a time when she'd be able to take down monsters like she planned to – by which, she meant without narrowly avoiding death or otherwise being taken by surprise.

"That you did," he said, voice ever so soft. An odd thing for a being she had come to associate with boots which crushed ants. Everyone was basically an ant before that 'god'. "That you did…"

::

"HARRIET!"

Startling awake at the yell of her name, Harriet blinked, finding herself crushed by her older half-sibling in the next second as they sat on a bus. A bus Harriet didn't remember getting onto in the slightest. She wondered what it said about her life thus far that she wasn't freaking out about it like a headless chicken.

"Everyone from Cabins Owl, Hawk, and Sparrow is here," a girl Harriet vaguely remembered as being her cabin's counsellor said. "We've also got Tabitha, Fred, and myself – so we're good to go."

Alexander frowned as he sat down on the seat on the aisle next to them. "Who's Tabitha?" he mumbled, peering at the unfamiliar lady as she walked by to find a seat.

"Dummy!" a voice called from behind him. "She's Cabin Owl's counsellor," the same girl said, and Alexander only frowned at that.

"I thought that was Luna," he muttered, face scrunched up in thought.

"Don't worry 'bout it, kiddo," an all too familiar voice sounded, and Harriet felt her stomach sink to her toes, even as her nose leaked red and had Laurel panicking. "We're all safe and good," Fred said, and Harriet flinched as blue eyes settled on her knowingly. Her heart rattled in her chest, part of her so infinitely glad that Laurel was between her and their father as he seated himself comfortably in the third and final seat of their row.

Was he waiting until they were alone to smite her? Harriet could only wonder as she sat there, Laurel having nabbed a tissue off their bloody father and was currently holding her nose shut. Blue eyes watched her, Harriet wanting nothing more than to disappear, but it wasn't like she could apparate in front of her father and the twins. It wasn't even apparition anymore – it was teleportation. A sigh escaped her, the thought of her blank space of memories between almost dying in a forest and waking up on a bus making her stomach twist uncomfortably.

Harriet wondered why she was more concerned over missing memories than near death. Though she'd probably had far too many of the latter. Most people had one brush with death if they were unlucky.

"It's a wildfire," Laurel mumbled, staring out of the window at the forest which was going up in smoke. Dimly, Harriet thought she could hear the sounds of sirens in the still night air, people undoubtedly on their way to try and tackle one of the disasters she had brought upon that world. "We're lucky it didn't start any closer to camp," she said, and Harriet could only shift guiltily on her backside as she stared at the hues of amber and yellow, swallowing up the earthy greens and browns. "I didn't see you coming out of Cabin Hawk, so I got worried," Laurel explained, holding her hand then, and Harriet took over holding her blood-stained tissues to her nose.

"I'm here now," she stated, completely uncertain as to how she got from nearly being crushed by a flaming falling tree to the comfy seat of a bus. Though she had an inkling a certain dream visitor of hers likely had a hand in it.

"Mhm. I can see that," Laurel said, her eyes seemingly fixed to the forest, and Harriet could only stare out of the window with her – the other option being staring at her father, or watching him stare at her from the corner of her eye. Though she supposed she could see his reflection in the glass more often than not.

"We're safe," Harriet mumbled, remembering the burning heat which had surrounded her what only felt like minutes ago.

"I'm tired," Laurel grumbled, and Harriet was abruptly reminded that it was still night-time. Still the same night she had decided to kill those monsters to save her siblings. Sleepiness hit her like a truck, and Harriet yawned, eyelids drooping as adrenaline finally wore off and all her exhaustion came out to play.

"Me too," she slurred, resting her head against Laurel's shoulder, moving with her as Laurel slid to the side, a soft snore escaping her mouth. Harriet blinked, envying the almost immediate drop-off Laurel had somehow managed to pull off.

Part of her almost felt like there was a hand on her head, ruffling at her hair the same way her mother too often did when she tucked her in. Yet that would mean it was her father doing just that. Harriet didn't think gods ruffled their children's hair, even if it wasn't the unruly mop she'd had in her last life. A smile curled at her lips, basking in the warmth she felt. It was a nice idea though.

::

Threads dangled before her eyes, a myriad of colours twisting and swirling before her until they inevitably snapped, the ends frayed, the strings cut. Limbs splayed on the ground at awkward angles, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Harriet reached out, watching as two yellow threads kept on weaving according to her will, fraying ends transforming into continual string, scissors no longer primed to snip and prune yet another life.

Harriet hummed under her breath, staring at the tapestry of threads until she felt a tugging at her hand. She peered down at it, staring at the thread of gold, black, and yellow as it pulled at her wrist, its end curling behind her and into the darkness at her back. There was a void behind her, infinite and endless.

"Come down, little oracle," a voice rasped from the shadows, and Harriet sat bolt upright, blinking as she found herself still on the bus. A snore pierced the air, the sky outside a deep blue which was paling as the sun began its rise.

"You should go back to sleep." Her father's musical voice rang out amidst the eerie silence which ate up the rest of the bus's occupants. "You did not rest long."

Her shoulders moved without her say-so, rising up and down in a shrug. "I—" her voice broke off, fear coming to gnaw at her gut for a few moments before her mouth decided to move of its own volition.

"Thread of gold, black, and yellow,

A temperament never meant to mellow.

Serpent bound,

A choice made to never be found.

Apollo's Bane,

By thee and thine father's hand thy shall be forever slain."

Her hand slapped itself over her mouth, gold finally meeting blue as her father looked at her. If there had ever been any doubt as to her identity, that was undoubtedly gone, thanks to her untimely 'gift'. She gritted her teeth, nerves making her shake as she sat there, scrutinised beneath those blue-blue eyes.

He looked away, turning to face the front of their vehicle. "Sleep," he ordered, fingers clicking, the sound seeming to resonate through her bones themselves, and Harriet barely had the chance to muse on what was going on before her head was plonked back atop Laurel, and she was away in dreamland once more.

::

"HARRIET!"

Harriet blinked, rubbing at her sleep-crusted eyes as an inexplicable sense of deja-vu hit her. The scent of her mother surrounded her, an inexplicable sense of safety coming to curl around her as she found herself snuggled in her mother's embrace.

"When I saw the news," she said, swallowing audibly as she carried her towards the car – having presumably already said her goodbyes to Josephine Woods who was carting two very unconscious twins into her own vehicle.

"Mn. 'm fine," Harriet grumbled, nuzzling into her shoulder as she tried to get back to sleep. She was tired, and all she wanted to do was sleep. After all the drama in the forest, the mysterious displacement from falling into a crevasse to waking up in a bus. A frown marred her brow, part of her wondering why the memories of before she fell asleep were so slow to be recalled. It just meant that nothing interesting had happened, she mused, falling back asleep even as her mother placed her in the car and did her seatbelt up for her.

The next time she woke up, she was in her own bed, completely uncomfortable at the memories which had eluded her earlier that day. It was mid-afternoon, according to her alarm clock, and Harriet could only sit bolt upright in her bed, feeling the sunlight shining through the crack in her curtains. She wondered if it was just paranoia which made it feel eerily warm and bright in her room, like the sun had focused its attention right on her.

Harriet could hope, not that her luck ever seemed to work out well for her. Potter's luck – or would it be better to call it Carter's luck those days? She tilted her head, yawning and stretching as she swung her legs out of bed.

Feet padded silently against the ground, and Harriet cracked open her door, yawning once more as she wandered into the hallway and into the kitchen area. The TV blared, a news report ongoing, and as her eyes caught sight of the running red banner at the bottom, her heart went cold.

Wildfire Kills Seventeen, Hundreds More Left Homeless as the Blaze Continues

The screen turned black, and Harriet looked over to find her mother standing there with the remote in hand. "Harriet," she murmured, and Harriet felt her eyes water at that. A hand settled in her hair. "You did your best," her mother said.

A traitorous sniffle escaped her.

"Though I must ask," her mother spoke, holding up a small business card. "Who gave you this?" she asked, and Harriet could only scowl as she tried to read what it said. "I found it in your pocket when I was doing the washing… It's for Camp Halfblood."

Harriet shrugged, nerves coming to play once more at that reminder that all too recently she had been around her father, and he now knew – both her identity and what she was to that world. She wondered if she was supposed to be awaiting a smiting, or whether the god in her dreams was correct in thinking that he'd sooner conceal her than end her existence.

"Sweetheart," her mother said pointedly.

"Father," she grumbled, folding her arms, her stomach beginning to grumble as she waited there, fears and worries eating away at her. "He was there. And he knows," she muttered, hands shaking as she clasped them together and rocked back and forth on her heels.

Her mother sucked in a sharp breath. "Well, you're home now," she said. "That's what matters."

"Mn," Harriet mumbled. "What's for breakfast?" she asked hurriedly, not wanting to linger on the chaos she had wrought and the latest natural disaster she had caused. A wildfire which, she learnt throughout the day, was close to being extinguished – but not before it had ripped through the more rural village besides the place where Camp Lagoon had been. Though that place had gone up in smoke. Part of her wondered if she was grateful for that much, because it meant neither she nor the twins would ever go there again. To the place where they had been fated to die.

::

It was a quaint, quiet Sunday afternoon when Laurel and Alexander introduced her to one of the friends they had made – a boy who had so recently transferred into their class.

Lennard Groundfoot was a boy who was rather small for his age, with hair the colour of autumn leaves tucked underneath a baseball cap and a note permanently excusing him from PE thanks to some muscular disorder which hadn't been explained to her – not that she needed that much, thanks to the fact she knew it was just because his human-looking feet were fake.

A satyr.

One sent to get her siblings to camp, and perhaps her as well. Maybe that was her father's way of dragging her off to camp? Harriet could only wonder as Lennard seemed to sniff the air around her all of a sudden.

"He was just telling about this awesome summer camp that he wants us to go to," Laurel declared, before frowning at their new friend. "Hey, what're you sniffing Harriet for?"

"Uh," Lennard mumbled, clearly caught off guard. "She smells weird?"

A snort escaped her before she could help it. There was little doubt she smelt weird, especially from close up. Her delightful dream visitor had all but told her that her scent was merely being kept very, very close to her rather than it being allowed to spread out – hence why she'd had so few run-ins with monsters.

Idly, she mused on how many more attacks there would have been without such a protection for her before shuddering at the thought.

"That's rude," Laurel declared. "Alex, back me up here!"

"Lennard was just saying that I smell nice," Harriet interjected, saving the almost terrified-looking satyr from her friend's displeasure. "He just lost the words for it."

Laurel squinted at her, raising one eyebrow as if to say really?

Harriet smirked. Really.