[Annabeth POV]
45 minutes into the class and the heat is going to kill me.
Sweat dripped down my temple, and I tighten my grip on my sword's hilt as I take a careful step forward. The cool afternoon breeze sweeps a few stray strands of hair over my cheeks, but however irritating they are, they're easily ignored as I take our resting moment to re-map the territory.
Outside of the arena, the leaves of the oak tree's sway in a low, rustling murmur, while out in the distance the sounds of demigod activity coming in as a clinking, shouting buzz. I honed my attention to the inside of the arena, where it's just me and him.
Off to the side, the group of spectators murmur lightly, some placing bets, and others predicting the outcome. The smell of upturned dust, musty leather, and oiled blades sharpen my senses, and I can hear the brush of his feet in the dirt. He's getting better at his footwork, I muse, shifting the drakon-bone sword into my other hand to turn sideways and step. My sword-arm turns outward and listen. Over the tiding murmur, I can hear breathing close by. It's silent and through the nose, but it's been a hot afternoon and I've been giving him quite the workout.
Sword-point angling, I aim for his chest and shift my weight. Going onto offense would be easy, but he'll probably expect this time. Defense would probably be my best bet, but that means I'll have to give him a reason to strike. Offense, and then turn-over to defense so he'd give up his first move. I refrain from smiling by darting forward and jabbing my sword to where his chest would be. As predicted, he deflects the attack off the side of his blade, and using the momentum, I twisted, throw my sword in the air, and turn in the opposite direction where he's unprotected. Catching my sword in my other hand, I rush forward and his backing footsteps clamor across the dirt, kicking up more dust.
I bring my sword down, but he manages to block it. Jumping back, I barely give him enough time to breathe be lunging back in and our swords hit. Again and again, my instincts take over and we parry our strikes and deflect blows. He's breathing harder now.
A drop of sweat runs down my forehead and hovers over my eye. Despite myself, I grimace, and he takes my moment of discomfort to strike. Grunting, I parry his sudden onslaught, stepping back to get a little more room, but he follows.
He's trying to corner me into the wall, I realize. It would be easy to immobilized an opponent backed up like that. This time I do smile. Clever boy, but I need a way out of it.
What do you do when you need a way out? Do the unexpected. Shouting, I rush at him and hold my sword up just as he comes down so we're locked in an X.
"Bad move," he mutters under his breath.
I smile back, "Was it?" Heaving, I force him back, just slightly, then let go of my sword and drop to my hands and feet, kicking his legs clean out from under him. He lands with a rough "OOMPH!" and I clamor for my weapon.
The leather bindings of his practice-armor squeak and groan as he quickly grabs for his sword too. My fingers find the hilt and I instantly lunged at him. His sword scraps lightly across the ground as he raises it to defend himself, but he's too slow. I'm on him in an instant, and with a small calculated jab to the radial nerve in his upper arm, his sword drops from his hand by the time mine is pressed tight against his throat.
Ji Soo swallows hard and I smile, "Annnnd, dead."
"Honestly, Annabeth," he groans, tapping out. "Every time. How?"
Behind me, the group of spectators cheer as I pull myself up and offer a hand to my sparring partner. Ji Soo huffs, just a little, but takes it anyway. Brushing the dust I imagine is on my pants, I lightly heft my sword on my shoulder and look toward my class.
"Alrighty, let's see who was paying attenton. Can anyone tell me what Ji Soo did wrong?"
"Um, he fought you." A voice answers and the class laughs.
Near me, Ji Soo huffs again, more sourly, and stuffs his sword back in its scabbard. I give him a gentle pat and turn to the class with an unimpressed frown.
"For the record, Ji Soo did very well considering this is only his 2nd summer. Would anyone else liked to have taken his place?"
Silence.
"That's what I thought. Now, what he really did wrong, was that he was too uniform. It's good to keep a process and use the tactics you're taught, but it's also important to keep your opponents guessing. If you too by the book, your attacks will be easily manuevered and all you're opponent has to do it guess where your next attack will be and bam, you're helping the monster to a free dinner. But, if you mix it up and do the unexpected, like, say, dropping you're weapon and knocking them down, your opponent will be thrown off their game and you'll have the advantage. However," I stare at them, dead center, "It must be a calculated risk, so don't be reckless. Doing the unexpected it good, but not when it puts you or any of the demigods you're near at risk."
"Annabeth?" Morgon, a 13-year-old son of Ares calls. "Um, how - how did you get so good at fighting? I mean, isn't hard since you're-" I hear someone jab him and whisper harshly, "er - I - I mean, sorry. I didn't -"
"Since I'm blind?" I finish for him, "No, it's okay Morgon." I forgot that this was his first summer. More than that, it was his first day at Sword Fighting class. The last few days have been kind of hectic with getting the new campers settled, so he probably didn't hear any of the stories about the war 3 years ago. Which actually reminded me to ask Will, or one of his siblings, to tell some at the Campfire tonight so we can get all the newbies covered in one go. I'd prefer not to spend half of my classes explaining why a blind child of Athena can sword-fight.
"Well, blind or not, practice is how you get good at something, even if that something is sword fighting," I tell him. I try to keep it light and breezy, but it feels awkward, and judging by the sound of silence, I'd say they felt it too. Why couldn't I go into a conversation without someone asking about my eyes? Why, newbies, why?
"I think we'll stop there for today," I decide, sheathing my sword. Touching the top of the watch on my wrist, I feel for the bumpy numbers shifting beneath my fingertips. Yep, class was basically over anyway. Thank you, Leo. The watch was a smooth leather band with a thin, recantgular plate on top, made of celestial bronze. The time was embossed into the metal, and through some intense Hephaestus-inherited skill, the numbers counted down with the time in both greek numbers and english numbers. According to the time, the conch horn was gonna blow in 3 minutes.
"Lacy," I hear my half-sister, and self-dubbed assistant, jump to her feet. "I'm heading out. As soon as you hear the lunch horn, take the class down the Amphitheater."
"You got it Annabeth," she pipes back, and I'm under the illusion that she's saluting. Whether or not she did, I salute back and turn with a whistle. In the corner of the Training Arena, Mrs. O'Leary also jumps to her feet, followed by a loud, obnoxious clang.
I sigh. "I thought we talked about you chewing on the shields," I mutter as she comes bounding over. She sniffs at my leather bound practice gear, before deeming it as uneventful as the last time she smelled it, and gives my sweaty forehead a mighty, wet lick.
"AH, Leary!" I gag and nudge her nose away, wiping off slobber with the other hand. She yips innocently, sounding absolutely thrilled with devious act, but stays still long enough for me to find the long, leather-bound leash hooked to her collar and the shrunk walking stick tied with it.
"Alright girl," I tell her, wrapping the leash a few times around my hands, "let's head to the Athena cabin. Understand? Athena. Cabin."
Mrs. O'Leary barks a few times, so I figure she understands well enough. Just as we walk out of the Arena, the low sound of the conch horn bellows somewhere over the hill. Behind me, I hear Lily's sharp orders as she starts organizing the campers into lines, and then we're gone.
It's particularly hot today, for the beginning of summer, but it's been a good day no less. In fact, it's been a fairly good year. Ever since Gaia was defeated, it's been - dare I say - actually peaceful. If there was one good thing that came out of that war, it was the absence of monster attacks. Well, there's saving all mankind too, I guess. That was definitely a plus.
Smiling, inhaling deeply, the scent of the strawberry groves and oiled steel stands out most among the camp, but, somewhere to the left, the smell of grilled meat rides the wind and chases away the other two. Smells good, but all I really needed was a cold glass of water and, maybe, a cluster of grapes - if Mr. D wasn't feeling stingy enough to share.
Mrs. O'Leary, despite her peppy attitude, manages to keep to her traing, and we descend down a small hill, down onto the well-worn grounds surrounding the cabins with no accidents. Loud steps pass me as counselors and satyrs lead groups of demigods toward the Amphitheater. A few yell out a quick hello, and I wave in their general direction.
Someone runs up to me. "Annabeth, aren't you coming to lunch?" Malcolm asks, slightly out of breath, but I shake my head.
"Nah, I'm good. But if you wouldn't mind sending Aaron up with some grapes, I'd love you forever."
He chuckles, but it dries fast. "Are you...are you going back to the cabin to plan again?"
Just like that, my smiles disappear and I turn away from him, feeling the high tension of an impending argument. The same one we've been having for weeks now. "Tell Chiron that I'm in my workshop," is what I say, deciding that I don't want to get into it now, and gently pat Mrs. O'Leary's side so we can keep going. I expect him to argue, but all I hear from Malcolm is a hard breath through his nose before he's gone.
By then, most of the groups have left, and those that straggled behind were husting away under the afflictions of hunger. Mrs. O'Leary and I pass different cabins, and I inhale deeply again, picking up the ever-present hum from the Hephaestus cabin, low and deep like an immense machine that was constantly running. Sweet perfume wafted from the Aphrodite cabin, flowers from the Demeter, leather and sword oil from Ares, calming incense from Hypnos, and grapes from Dionysus. More smells bombared my senses, and while it could be homey and familiar, today, combined with the heat, it was head-ache inducing.
By memory, I knew the Athena cabin was coming up, and I trusted Mrs. O'Leary to get me there, but we both stopped as a breeze trifled across the open space, carrying with it the scent of the ocean. I paused, looking to the other side, feeling the painful stirring of memories. I haven't been to the beach in a while. Maybe sometime later I coud...
No, I tell myself and take another step toward my destination. Now's not the time for 'maybe later'. I have other things to do. Important things.
But, now that it was there, the scent was stuck in my head. Saltwater, seaweed, the fresh tinge to the air, all of it so, so painfully familiar I was tempted to stick my head into the Ares cabin just to get rid of it. But another part of me turns toward it wistfully, and, despite the months it took me to stop following the smell, I changedirection and heade toward the source. Mrs. O'Leary doesn't question my new decision, and changes course happily. She stays close to my side, however, just as Nico and I had trained her to do. It had taken weeks to train her to guide me through camp, and a lot of accidental trips to the Underworld before she realized that shadow-travel is not what I meant when I said 'To the Hades Cabin'. But once she got the hang of it, she picked it up quickly, and I wasn't resorted to stumbling around camp on someone's arms. Listening to her happy breaths, I'd admit that the last few years would've been tough without her.
However, her the excited jump in her steps dulls and she stopped us in front of our new destination with a soft whine.
"I know," I say, patting her immense sides. "I know." The smell is stronger now, so strong that and I can almost feel the spray of the ocean fountain inside. I feel my way along the steps, for the doorknob, and then I walk inside. Behind me, Mrs. O'Leary follows as far as she can but gets stuck at the door. She whines again and plops down on the deck.
"Hey, that's a good girl," I tell her, rubbing her ears comfortingly, and she licks lightly at my hand. "I know, it's not fair that you can't come in. Maybe I'll ask Leo to make the door bigger." Her tail thumps heavily on the steps, and I smile, giving her another heartfelt rub.
Back on my feet, I move around the empty bedposts and lockers, to the bed in the far corner. The fountain is nearby, the still running water giving off a pleasant gurgle that sends a misty chill in the air that is Elysium compared to the heat outside. I sit on the bed, fingers knitting together, trying to figure out why I had come in here in the first place. It's been weeks since my last visit, and I was trying for a new record.
As much as I don't want to be in here, another part preens happily at the feeling of being close to him again. But the familiarity of the smell is enough to send nostalgic aches through my chest, and I wish it didn't hurt so much to be in here. Maybe if it didn't hurt, I'd stop by more. Maybe if I didn't want to cry, wring his neck, and going on a frenzy monster attack every time I stepped through that door, I'd come in here.
Then why do you keep doing it? A pestering thought asks, and I'm not sure how to answer it. Why do I keep coming in here? Sitting on his bed won't make him come back. Staring at nothing, wishing he'd come walking through that door as he asks why I'm in his room, cause, 'C'mon Wisegirl, I thought there were rules', with that snarky tone of his, wasn't going to make him appear on the bed. It wouldn't happen, even if I prayed to the gods, begging that maybe - please - just bring him back.
Right, because the gods actually listened to us. Arms curling around my stomach, I lift my leg up on the bed and for a few minutes, I stare at nothing, playing with a fraying edge to the blanket under my feet. When I accidentally pick a string from the blanket, I drop the fabric and reach for the minotaur horn on the nightstand. Still where I left it since the last time I was in here. My fingers brush the dust off as they run over the smooth arc of the horn, to the rough edges where it had broken off, to the dulled point at the top. I recall the night he'd first came into camp, clutching this horn so tightly that I didn't think Chiron could make him let go. He looked so much smaller then, shorter than even me, and so - so pained. Sopping wet, hair falling in his eyes, the rain had washed away his tears but I saw the distress and anguish in his eyes. A distress I'd seen so many times in my own eyes, it Lukes eyes, in Thalia's eyes, that it dragged me back to the weeks of living on the streets.
I'll admit, I was angry that he managed to get such a reaction out of me when I didn't even know him. But getting to know him after had all been worth it. Yes, he had been an annoying prick, but he was also sweet and in his own way. Suddenly charming at one point. I don't even know when that happened. One day his comments are plain irritating, then the next all I can do was laugh with him. Where did those days go?
Oh, but what am I doing? Scowling, I roughly set the horn back on the nightstand, feeling foolish. I shouldn't be in here reminiscing, I need to be in my cabin, planning, working, and doing the one thing that might actually bring him back. Sniffing, I angrily wipe the few tears lingering in my eyes and stand up. Using my walking stick, I march my way across the floor and out the door. Mrs. O'Leary gets up too and patiently lets me grapple for the leash.
I sniff again, and her nose probes my face with a small keen. "No, no I'm okay," I reassure her with a watery smile, stopping to pet her muzzle when it pushes to my stomach. "Come on, to the Athena cabin,"
She gives me another worrying nudge, before leading us away. We stop by our real destination this time, and I give her another loving stroke, before opening the door. Her claws click against the rocks and metal as she disappears into the doghouse behind the cabin. Inside, it smells of ink, new books, and leather, driving away the ocean scent that lingered on my clothes.
Right, it's time to get some real work done. My workshop is an alcove in the room next to the bunks. I drop into the chair and rummage through the brail and Greek embossed pages piled neatly around the small desk. I pull the textured map I'd been studying for the last week closer, pressing my fingers to it, and searching along the ridges and bumps making up the western states. I've studied every map, every supernatural report I could get my hands on of most of the states. The western states were unlikely. Maybe he went there first, but it was hotter there, and California wouldn't have been an option for him, not with Camp Jupiter so close by. He wouldn't be too close to New York yet either, but it's been years, so he was bound to migrate closer.
Eastern states. He had to be somewhere in the Eastern states.
"I'm going to find you, Percy," I whisper, "For the last Hades-forsaken time in my life, I am going to find you."
Whether you want me to, or not.
Sorry for such a prolonged wait. That wasn't my intention. But here is this! Enjoy some determined and blind Annabeth!
