"Can you help me with the straps?" Heather asked Pollux, holding out her breastplate. "I can't make heads or tails of this thing."
Pollux smiled. Taking the metal plate, he helped her position the armor on her body.
"I remember my first Capture the Flag game," he commented, securing the last strap. "You nervous?"
"No duh!" she said, laughing a bit. "I'm running into monster-infested woods to face an army of greek heroes who are not only dressed in full armor, but carry real weapons. On top of that, I don't even know how to use these things!"
She waved one of her twin blades to punctuate her statement, making Pollux's grin grow wider.
"At least we're teamed up with Athena. Their strategies are pure genius, so they'll have a place for you."
Heather gave the blonde kids a doubtful glance, pulling her blue-plumed helmet low on her forehead. The Athena capitan assigned large groups of kids to either guarding or attacking, sending everyone in all directions. Heather waited uncomfortably for her job and was disappointed to find herself away from Pollux, who would be leading an attack straight to the center of the Red team's defense position.
"You're job," the Athena boy instructed Heather, "is to guard the feeder entrance." He pointed towards a small trail that lead to the flag's position. "If anyone tries to sneak past our guards at the main entrance, you need to stop them if you can. If you can't, don't be a hero and get yourself hurt. Just make as much noise as you can; there's another group of guards that will be waiting for your signal in the trees who will support you."
Heather nodded and took her place, scimitars unsheathed and at the ready. When everyone had their assignments, she was left alone.
She could hear the sounds sounds of battle: the slithering of metal sliding over metal, roars of warriors, the tramping of heavy boots on the earth. No one came her way and for a moment, she wondered if she'd been given an easy position out of pity. Bored, she tapped one of her blades against the ground.
Out of nowhere, a pack or red-plumed warriors swarmed through the trees, creating a semicircle around her. Heafting her scimitars, Heather planted her feet firmly, ready for their attack.
"Well if it isn't the newb," a nasty redheaded girl sneered. "You wouldn't happen to be guarding the flag, would you? Be a sweet little girl and hand it over."
"Go find it yourselves," Heather snapped. The other half-bloods laughed.
"Why? Gonna tell daddy? Get us in trouble with the director?"
Heather let her sword arm fly, knocking the helmet off his head. In truth, she hadn't meant to make it fall, just to give him a headache. She kept her composure, though. Let them think she meant it.
"I don't need his das't help," she said shortly. "I earn my own respect here. Now go find the flag and leave me unless you want to be taught that I deserve respect because of my own merits."
The redhead laughed darkly, readying her spear. The first strike was so fast that it was only pure luck that Heather managed to turn away the spear shaft with the flat of her blade. She was not so lucky the second time: the butt of the spear made contact with her jaw.
Heather hit the ground with a thump that drove the air from her lungs. Struggling to pull in air, she sat up, gasping. The red-plumed warriors laughed condescendingly at the new camper. Heather pulled herself into a standing position, wheezing.
"Want some more?" the redhead growled, waving her spear. "I got plenty where that came from. I could do this all day. How 'bout you?"
Heather wiped a little blood off her chin, lifting her scimitars in preparation for the next attack. At an unseen signal, all the red-plumed kids circled her, cutting off any chance of help. As they sauntered forward, Heather tried to stand her ground, but in the moment the other half-bloods charged, she closed her eyes and waited for the pain.
It never came; rather, there was a sound lie a cracking egg and a smell like sour grapes. Heather remained frozen, waiting for her doom. The silence stretched until she couldn't bear it any longer and peeked through her eyelashes.
Heather gasped at the scene: the warriors who'd been ready to beat her were sprawled on the ground. Some sat on the ground, curled into balls, rocking back and forth and murmuring ancient greek, while others chatted brightly to their weapons or to bushes. Heather fell to her knees. What had she done?
The blue team's celebration was cut short when they found her there, staring in shock at the deed she had done. Chiron galloped over and ordered Heather's victims to be taken to the infirmary for healing. Pollux put his hands on his half-sister's shoulders. She babbled incoherently from shock, shuddering from head to toe. Her counsellor lead her back to her cabin, trying to soothe her as they went.
Chiron galloped to find the camp director. Mr. D was relaxing in the rec room, playing pac man. The centaur walked in with stormclouds worthy of Zeus himself gathered in his expression.
"Did you have to intervene?!" Chiron snapped. Mr. D groaned as pac man was eaten by Inky, the blue ghost, declaring the game over.
"I didn't have to. And no, I am not helping them. The curse should wear off in a day or two."
Chiron sighed, stamping his hoof in frustration. Mr. D could be incredibly stubborn at times, particularly regarding his own children. Heather had inherited that particular trait from her father and showed it well by refusing to accept her parentage. Yet, she couldn't run from it. Chiron knew that the father and daughter were too alike: they were on a sure collision course with disaster.
"Why won't you at least talk to her?" the activities director demanded to know. "She's eventually going to hurt someone-or herself-if this keeps up."
"You think I don't know that?" the wine god snapped. "I want to help, but she keeps pushing me away. What else can I do but respect her?"
For that, Chiron had no answer.