The problem with a quest, Heather discovered, is that you never know where to start. Three days after hearing the prophecy, the only change in her daily life was the presence of Nico di Angelo. The son of Hades kept mostly to himself, but he would eat with her at meals, always with the air of one under duress.
"We can't go south," he'd explained to her, "until the first line of the prophecy is fulfilled. That's just how quests work."
All Heather's attempts at friendliness fell flat, so she simply stayed out of his way. Pollux was willing to put up with Nico most of the time, but on occasion Heather caught him watching the other boy with a fearful expression.
Nothing turned into more nothing. A week passed, then two. Nico's patience wore thin and Heather made a conscious effort not to annoy him. Whenever he got moody, Heather would notice bones popping up from the ground and make herself scarce. Nothing gave her the willies more than returning dead.
Finally, Heather was so desperate for something-anything-to happen that she went to Pollux for help.
"Quests start when they're meant to," her older brother tried to comfort her. "The prophecy gave a specific series of events, so all you can do is wait."
"That's what Nico said," Heather whispered. "But he's getting impatient, and it's scary to watch."
Pollux placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, and gave a half-smile. Heather smiled back, but noticed Mr. D standing in the nearby dinner pavilion, unobtrusively watching. As always.
It was time for capture-the-flag on Friday evening, and Heather was once again avoiding a certain dark-haired teenager. The Athena cabin still kept her towards the back, as a secret weapon. Word had gone around camp that she could drive a man insane with a glance, a gift from her father. It carried weight, and Heather felt it acutely.
There are two results of that reputation, she thought as she walked into the clearing by the once-Zues'-Fist-now-giant-rock-stack. Either everyone will avoid me or the Ares cabin is going to kill me.
She sighed and leaned against the stone pile, careful not to cut herself on the sharp edges. As she began to relax, she became aware that something about the clearing seemed...off, somehow. It was eerily quiet. No, not just eerie: unnatural.
Unsheathing her scimitars, Heather looked around the clearing, but saw nothing. A slight tremor rocked the ground, then all was still and silent in a long, strained moment.
The rock pile exploded. Literally exploded; the stones were sent flying into the air, smoldering in brilliant shades of red, yellow, and orange, smoke trailing after them. From the rumble, a large black mastiff-roughly the size of a jeep-staggered out of a gaping chasm, panting.
Heather flung herself behind nearby tree for safety, peeking as the smoke cleared. She gripped the warm celestial bronze in her hands tighter, unsure what was happening or what that strange creature was. The dog sniffed the air and rose up onto its hind legs, almost standing. Then it lowered itself into a crouch, tail tucked between its legs in an act of submission, letting out a plaintive whine. Curious, Heather warily stepped out from behind the tree, keeping her blades handy.
The dog turned it's huge head and stared at her with sad eyes, still whining. Then it opened its great jaws and began to speak:
"You are a child of Dionysus?" it asked. Heather stumbled backwards, tripping over a root and landing sprawled on the ground. "You are," it continued, its voice full of awe. "Please, you must help me."
"Uh, if you don't mind my asking," Heather said, struggling to stand up, "what exactly are you?"
"That is a very good question," it answered, "Once, I was a half-blood, like you. A son of Nike. Something changed...I went into uncharted territory, too far out of bounds...he cursed me, tiny one. As I came to battle him, I could not think straight. He made me this: not human, but not a hellhound either. Tiny one, you are his kin, daughter of Olympus. Can you not save me?"
Heather's heart ached as the creature begged for mercy. Foolish perhaps, but her naturally soft heart couldn't bear to be merciless.
"I don't know how," she whispered. "I'm sorry, but I don't have the power to make and unmake. Perhaps Mr. D-"
The name had hardly left her mouth when the monster's eyes glowed a bloody red, gleaming like hot coals.
"No!" it screamed, "Not that one! He will hurts me! Only a mortal!"
"I don't understand!" Heather cried. The beast's breathing became heavy and it stared at her with hunger in its eyes now.
"Half-bloods are delicious," it growled. "It will not help me, so it will feed me!"
"I don't think so," a cold voice said from the shadows. The monster turned to see the new arrival, and Heather saw a black blade pierce through the beast's dark fur.
The screech that echoed around the clearing hurt her ears. The monster thrashed, shedding mounds of golden dust as it shrank down to the size of a human being. I collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain, whimpering pitifully. Standing on the opposite end of the clearing was Nico di Angelo, a short black sword clenched in his fist. Heather stared at him with wide eyes as he watched they dying monster with cold contempt.
"Tiny one..." the beast whispered, and the dark-haired girl ran to it, dropping to her knees. Nico started towards her, as if he were going to stop her, but didn't. As Heather lowered her head towards the creature's mouth, it whispered three hoarse words in her ear.
"F-fort stockton...genevieve..."
It got no farther, it's head thudding on the grass. The last of the black fur melted away, revealing a blonde boy in a bloodied Camp Half-blood shirt and jeans. Brushing dark hair out of her eyes, the child of Dionysus brushed the golden sand off him, then slid her arms under the still body, lifting it as high as she could.
"What are you doing?" Nico asked, his eyes shadowed as the daylight faded into the darkness of dusk. Heather paused at the edge of the clearing for a moment.
"I'm taking him back to Chiron," she finally replied. "We'll need some supplies and money for our quest."
"...go south on the promise of one's dying breath," Nico remembered quietly. "What did he tell you?"
"Fort Stockton," she answered promptly, resuming her brisk walk. "Down in the southern U.S. You'll probably want sunscreen: you'll burn to a crisp in the Texan sun."
Nico paused, unsure of whether or not he'd just been insulted. This didn't bother Heather, who continued her walk into the shady woods. At last, something made sense.
She was going home at last.
A/N: Sorry for awkward chapter guys. I'm not sure where I was going with this, but hey, prophecy line fulfilled! Future chapters are now going to be about this length or longer (as per requests) and I'll try to keep the quest short so I don't bore anyone.
Thanks again for reading! Dem0nLight out!