It had been four months since the beginning of the end, and I could really feel winter now.

I had looted some winter gear not long after my mom died, and it had managed to stave off hypothermia for the time being, but I knew it was going to do little against the winter of New York. I needed to start heading south, and soon, if I had any attachment to my toes.

I really shouldn't have stayed to November.

But, even with New York in ruins, and crumbling more and more every day as more and more people died, and the already rare sightings of people grew scarcer and scarcer, I couldn't help but feel attached to the broken city. It was like a old dog that needed to be put down, and I was seriously dragging my feet on that walk to the woods.

I found myself standing in front of two piles of stones in central park. One was a little larger than the other, but both looked kinda dilapidated. The larger one had a stone, all smooth and ovular, and painted blue. I spent a few minutes tidying up the piles.

If 15 year old me could see me now, he'd surely not want to walk on the side of the street I was on. With my scraggly little beard and wispy mustache that I tried in vain to keep in check, disastrous hair from trying to cut it myself with safety scissors a month or so back, and that telltale layer of dirt that screamed homeless. The fact that I was arranging a pile of rocks like a madman wouldn't help either.

The whole process took longer than it should have, but, I felt like I needed to do a good job. It could have been my last time doing it. I placed the blue stone atop the larger pile, stood up, and stared at my humble grave markers.

"Mom." I croaked to the grave with the blue rock. I kept my voice low, so I wouldn't alert any other lingerers who might be stalking around the city. "I'm going now. "

"Gonna head south, for the winter, at least. I don't know if- When, I'll be back. I'll be safe. Don't worry." I swallowed thickly. This was incredibly stupid and sappy, I know, but somehow it comforted me a little. "So, bye."

I turned away from the graves, and started walking, fighting against the compulsion to look back. The sooner I left the city, the better. I'd start dragging my feet all over again if I stuck around. But, before I really started heading south, I needed to make one final stop: Montauk.

Montauk had always been special to my mom, which meant it was just as special to me. She met my dad there, where they shared a whirlwind romance that lasted from the summer into the new year, and some months later, I had been born. Apparently, he had left my mom before she was aware that she was pregnant. She would always say he had always planned to return, but for whatever reason, he never did. Even so, she never said one bad word about the guy.

Please let the record show that I am not my Mom.

The walk was slow, and I was cold in spite of my jacket. The closer I got to Montauk, the more I doubted that I could handle being there, but I didn't stop. I needed to see that beach one last time.

Long island looked miserable. I didn't pass by a single store that didn't have shattered glass lying all around it. Cars were abandoned on streets, and there was dried blood splatter pretty much everywhere you looked. I did try to scope out the area to see if anything was worth looting, but almost everything had been stripped clean, probably from other people who were headed south.

I didn't see another person until I was more than halfway across long island, and the first thing I did when I heard footsteps was duck into a nearby alley. I held my breath as I heard the footsteps growing closer, and anguished panting rasped out into the air. I retreated further back into the alley, keeping close track of the street I had been walking on just moments before.

A man ran by the alley, and another soon followed, both paying me no notice.

My hands curled into fists and my feet itched to run after them. From what little I had caught of the first guy, he didn't look so good. I've seen people get hunted down and slaughtered for no good reason, especially early on when the city was still populated. I could never do anything about it though, too risky, but I couldn't help but feel like I should be able to do something.

I bit the interior of my cheek, and walked deeper into the alley, trying to forget the panicked man being chased. I couldn't risk trying to help some guy who could easily fuck me over for my trouble, I told myself. The logic appealed to me, so I did my best to forget having seen anything at all.

I kept walking, my backpack weighing heavier on my back than it did a minute ago.

The sun was going to start to set pretty soon. Thankfully, the full moon was coming either tomorrow or the next day, so there would be plenty of light to walk by. But, it still gets cold so fast when it's dark, I was going to have to find shelter somewhere nearby the beach. There were some caves around Montauk, if you knew where to look for them, so I wasn't too concerned.

I used to love when my mom drove me to Montauk, even the ride over was fun, because we would drive through the Hamptons. I remember how beautiful everything was; glamorous summer homes of the rich and famous, fully loaded mansions, pristine lawns kept in order even during the off season so the homeowners could always walk into a beautiful beach house that looked like it belonged in a modern fairy tale.

It was a place of things I'd never experienced, and probably never would, but sometimes, watching it go by in the car made Montauk feel more special.

I know, I know, technically, Montauk is a part of the Hamptons. But, I've never really considered it part of the Hamptons as much as the Hamptons bordered it. Montauk had a totally different atmosphere from the rest of the Hamptons, even with that surf lodge making it a little more crowded than I would like sometimes. But once you get deep into Montauk, and it gets all quiet and peaceful in the national parks and the beaches were devoid of the usual summer crowd, then you realize the difference. Montauk was definately not the Hamptons.

Back then, before the end of the world, the Hamptons felt like a pleasant welcome home, giving me little glimpses of things I might have been able to achieve, if I tried hard enough or got lucky enough, Before finally crossing the threshold to Montauk's inviting arms.

Now? Now, it felt like walking through the gates of hell.

As it turns out, when the world ended, and laws were forgotten overnight, 99% of the population had some economic bitterness issues they suddenly felt compelled to act upon. Being rich seemed to sour quickly when the world ends, and no hidden bank account on some island is going to help much against an angry mob.

What few houses weren't burnt down were trashed beyond recognition. Walls were torn down and ripped apart, glass still sprinkled the scruffy-looking lawns, expensive sports cars were flipped, crushed, and in once case, on the roof of a 3 story high mansion.

The place was even more abandoned than Manhattan. At least there I would occasionally see another survivor in the distance or someone trying to hide in the shadows. The Hamptons were just plain empty. I probably couldn't find another person wandering around if I wanted to. I knew there was no point in trying to loot anything, everyone in the Hamptons had either died or went south, and they took anything of value with them.

Not that I needed much at the moment. I had a small pocketknife, backpack filled with a combination of granola, lighters, two water bottles, and- get this- a box of gauze and a half-used bottle of antiseptic. Thanks to a miraculous night holding up in a drugstore I had assumed to have been stripped clean at first, I was richer than I'd ever been.

Relatively speaking, of course.

'richer than ever and no one to share it with' A more well-loathed part of my mind reminded me, with a voice suspiciously similar to my old geometry teacher. I shook off the thought the best I could and kept walking, ignoring the roar of silence between my footsteps.

Before I knew it, I had found myself walking out of the prickly shrubs of Napeague State Park, and onto Montauk's beach.

The water looked freezing, and the beach was absolutely covered in seaweed and rocks that made it look pretty uninviting. Beach grass looked withered and lifeless, like it would crumble to the slightest touch. Litter was scattered here and there, and there was an almost uncanny amount of driftwood. I wondered if there was a shipwreck nearby or something.

The second my foot hit the sand, I knew I wasn't ready to come back.

The world turned upside down and I felt like I had been punched in the gut, driven a good fifty feet skywards and I was in the process of falling back down. My stomach churned to send it's last meal back, but I managed to gulp it down with what little focus I had left. I knew that returning to Montauk would hurt, but I never expected myself to react this way. I felt overwhelmed, and it was all I could do to duck my head low and keep walking, as I fought valiantly against the sting in my eyes.

My mom was dead, I knew that, I had grieved for it, I had cried about it, I had gotten angry about it, and I thought that it was something I had been able to move past, if only a bit. But, being back on Montauk made it feel raw, and fresh, like ripping off a scab when the original scrape hadn't had nearly enough time to heal.

But, at the same time, I knew it was a little like antiseptic. Hurts like hell to use it, but for your own good in the end. A part of me felt like I needed to do this, whether it be out of respect for my mom, or to just get it all out. I wasn't sure, but you'd bet your ass I listened to that over the parts of me that told me to turn tail and run.

I think my mom would be proud of me for doing it too, and that thought made it just a bit easier.

It was colder on the beach than it was behind the dunes, and the ocean wind cut through my jacket like it wasn't even there, but I found it hard to care. I needed to do this. Plus, the beach was like a second home for me, and this one wasn't ruined by the end the world. It felt a little something like normal, for once.

As I walked along the beach, breathing came easier, which was weird, since I hadn't been having trouble breathing before I had gotten to the beach. It felt like I had only now grown accustomed to an extra weight in my chest that had been there for a long time, but hadn't fully realized it.

I raised my head, tried of staring at the blurry ground, and looked out to the ocean.

Holy shit, it looked cold. I Should have come before hypothermia was a guarantee from a little dip. I could use a swim.

Or water.

A shower, even.

I didn't have much of an idea of how bad I smelled, but the last time I saw running water, much less soap or deodorant, was months ago, and I might have hidden under a corpse somewhere between now and then. I'd rather not think about it.

Scrutinizing the water, I started to doubt that I would want to take a swim even if I had come in August. The sea looked oddly uninviting for a reason beyond just the threat of losing toes. Like every square inch of the water was a riptide waiting to drag me under and to my death. It was like staring out at a sheer cliff with no bottom instead of the ocean. It was a weird feeling.

I lost track of how much time I had been on the beach, but the sun was starting to set, the sky glowing gold on the horizon while the sky dimmed down for the night. I decided I was going to need to find a place to stay for the night, and fast.

Of course, when I actually did, I almost cried again.

I hadn't been walking for more than three more minutes when I stopped in my tracks and was struck by where I was. In the distance I could see a grey single story rental cabin. My breath hitched, and I broke out into a run a second before I consciously decided that I needed to go to that cabin.

The cabin my mom and I would stay at.

It almost seemed like it was impossible; those old shingles could pop off if you hit the house with a baseball too hard, how the hell was it supposed to stay standing after the fucking apocalypse? The floorboards would creak when you walked on them, the hinges on pretty much every door was loose and squeaky, and the windows shook in storm.

And yet, here it was, maybe a little worse for wear, and probably looted, but it was still there. A bubbling feeling rose up in my chest, like my lungs were filling with soda water and tickled the back of my throat.

The shades were drawn, but the windows were intact. A few shingles had fallen off, and littered the ground around the cottage, and sure, maybe it didn't look so great. But it was home. A little slice of my old life, from before all the chaos, and death. Before Gabe, before Paul, before everything, still standing. I'd never felt like hugging a building before, but if I said I wasn't tempted right then and there, I'd be a filthy liar.

I walked around the cabin. Everything was a little run-down, but still standing. I felt refreshed, energized, and at the same time, I knew that staying the night in the cabin would probably be bittersweet.

I wondered if the key was still in the main office building where mom would go to rent the cabins. If I could get my hands on it, I could get in without breaking a window. I didn't want to destroy any part of this cabin if I could, but if it was the only way in, I would.

I drifted towards the door, and put my hand on the knob. Unlikely, but, hey, worth a try.

I twisted the knob, pushed on the door, and like a miracle, it opened.

A breathy laugh escaped me, not sure how to react to this pileup of serendipity. I pulled an arm out of my backpack strap, taking a tentative step into the cabin, a slight smile playing on my lips and… found someone already in the cabin.

The good feeling was gone now.

My head cracked against the ground as the person tackled me. Still reeling, I felt someone's knee press against my stomach, and a flash of coppery metal. The next thing I knew, a knife the size of my forearm was pointed at my neck.

Oh, fuck this. One good thing happens, and I get a knife at my neck for the trouble. Was I a serial killer in a past life or something?

"Leave." A voice- female- hissed at me through clenched teeth.

My eyes suddenly shifted focus from the knife, to the owner thereof.

She would have looked like like the stereotypical California dream girl, golden, curly hair, tied up in a sporty-looking ponytail, tan skin, a small nose that a part of me couldn't help but think was cute. But, her face was littered with little cuts and scars, and some of them looked pretty old, way older than four months, and her eyes were an intense, stormy grey that made me feel picked apart and analyzed, that made it difficult to look her in the eye.

A fun fact I had learned about myself in the past for months: In spite of my determination to stay alive, a large, likely very ADHD part of me seemed to enjoy taunting death while I was staring it in the face. It had already landed me into a fair share of trouble, leading bad situations to worse in the blink of an eye. I remember one time I nearly had a finger cut clean off for not knowing when to shut my big mouth. I was pretty sure that someday, I'd be the death of me.

"Fuck off, this is my Cabin." I spat.

Yeah, just like that.

Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled back, in a snarl. "What sort of position do you think you're in?"

Probably dead, if I say so much as another word without a filter.

"Cowgirl."

The look on her face almost made it worth it, (teach her to straddle poor, innocent guys.) for the second or so of dumbfounded shock that was there before she turned into all fury and no remorse. She lifted the knife away from the neck, and drove it into my bicep.

I flinched, waiting for the pain, and the warmth of my blood flowing from the laceration she had given me… but it never came.

I glanced at the knife, the one sticking out of my arm, definitely there. Still nothing. On impulse, I moved my arm a bit. It moved freely, like the knife wasn't even embedded in my arm, and not a drop of blood could be seen, much less a cut.

"That's messed up." I muttered.

Above me the girl hissed something, I didn't quite catch it, but it sounded like a different language. I looked up at her, she regarded me with the respect you give to a leaky trash bag, and pulled the knife out of me. Still no pain.

"So," I said, slowly, casually. "you stabbed me… and nothing happened."

From the glare she was giving me, I was slowly sliding down that scale of respect.

After a few painfully awkward seconds of one-sided (Okay, maybe like, one and a half. She just tried to stab me!) glaring, I sighed. "Are you going to get off?"

Anger flared for a moment before quickly being hidden away by her stony face. She held her glare for a few more seconds before her eyes wrench shut and she pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand. "Just… Go." she flicked her knife to the right, pointing towards another cabin a few hundred feet away. "Go break into that other Cabin, there's no one there."

Anger swelled in my chest again. Who was she to order me around? "I already told you no. You're in my cabin, you go to the other one!"

She scoffed. "Your cabin? This is a rental, it's no more yours than it is mine."

I tilted my head back a bit, digging it into the ground so I could size her up the best I could give my… unfortunate position. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." She nodded slightly, like she was agreeing with herself, since no one else was going to.

"I was conceived in this Cabin."

Her face flushed red for a fraction of a second and I can see her sputtering. Her eyes tell me the words she failed to spit out were somewhere along the lines of 'I cannot believe you just said that.'. It did not taken them long to harden again. "What the hell does that have to do with anything? It's my base of operations now, so you'll just have to suck it up and-" She stopped short, and her face drained of color.

She practically vaulted off me into an upright position, her head darted from side to side, and tossed her knife from her left hand to her right, every inch of her body was like a spring loaded coil, ready to snap out at a moment's notice.

"What are-"

"Shhhh!" She hissed and shot me a sharp, angry look.

Just when I was about to try that taunting death habit again, I heard whatever it was that was probably making her so tense. A scraping noise, like metal on stone, and hissing, like a snake, but far louder.

"Get in." She said in a harsh whisper, jerking her head towards the Cabin.

"What?"

"Just get in." She said through clenched teeth, flashing me a desperate, but still unapologetically furious look.

Well, I wasn't complaining.

Heaving myself up, and slinging my backpack a little higher up on my shoulder, I walked towards the cabin, slowly, quietly. I had interacted with a few people since the end of the world, and quickly learned that deliberate and slow was the only way to move around anyone, myself included. Any other way would result in constant flinches or readying of weapons. But something about the way she was acting told me I should emphasize the quiet part.

As soon as I had passed behind her, I could feel her slowly walking backwards, practically at my heels. A little unnerving, but I figured, if she wanted to kill me, then she probably wouldn't have used the magic non-stabbing knife. That logic seemed firm enough, or maybe I'd just finally lost it.

The room was dark, the front room of the cabin didn't have any west-facing windows, and with the sun so soon to set, it might as well have been nighttime. I could barely make out any shapes, even as my eyes began to adjust to the dim light.

I was about to get all nostalgic and weepy over the cabin, when a hand, the girls, clasped over my mouth and I heard the door shut quietly behind me. Alarm bells rang in my head, but before I could really react, the hand pulled me back and down, and the girl shooshed in a tone that was probably supposed to be soothing. It missed the mark, just a bit, probably because she probably didn't have a soothing bone in her body. I started leaning back with the pull of the girl's hand, backing up just slightly until we were practically flush.

I glanced back at her, her hand still firm over my mouth, expecting to see her with a rag of chloroform or something insidious, but instead only saw her slowly and carefully kneeling down, that shitty knife still in her hands, but pointed nowhere at me.

"Ssssssisssssster, are you ssssssure you heard ssssssomething?" I could hear a muffled, hissy voice say from outside. It kinda sounded like what you would expect to hear coming out of a cheesy animated snake's mouth, and it would have been vaguely comical were it not for the fact the girl seemed to tense up even more when she heard it.

Whatever was going on, it looked like the girl had some idea of what was happening, so I decided if she was kneeling, I'd probably be smart to kneel too instead of dumbly crouching down.

"Possssssitive," Another voice, this one a little more deep but still more-or-less feminine, in a throaty sort of way.

"Ssssssisssssster, there'ssssss nothing here!"

"No I'm ssssssure I heard..."

"Well did you ssssssmell?"

"... I'm not ssssssure…"

There was a shifting sound like something heavy was scraping against the ground, tearing it up. Then came another, and another, like alternating footsteps. I shot the girl a desperately confused look. Her expression was unreadable, though, I was having trouble seeing it in the dark.

"Not ssssssure?! Ssssssstop wassssssting our time! We have Sssssswept thissssss beach all day!"

"Sssssstop whining. We're here to find demigodsssssss, not relax."

The grip she had on my mouth tightened slightly. Like I was going to open my stupid mouth anyways. I'm not that suicidal, and death certainly wasn't facing me down- yet.

"Maybe… In here…"

I could hear the more vigilant voice musing nearby, scraping grew louder as I could hear her- it, approaching the cabin.

The girl's hand fell off my face and to the door, fumbling with the doorknob for only a moment before turning the little lock on the knob with a click that I knew was quiet, but felt like it echoed through the cabin like a gunshot.

The doorknob turned not even a second later, and the door shook. I pulled myself into a crouch, turning slightly to face the door, just in case the door failed to lock properly, or whoever was on the other side could force it open. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the girl doing the same.

After a few painfully long moments, the door finally stopped shaking.

I could hear a rumbling noise coming from the other side of the door, and I knew it was not friendly.

Or human, for that matter.

I swallowed back a sinking feeling in my gut as the few tense seconds lingered, before I heard the shifting, rhythmic scraps of whatever was behind the door moving away from the cabin.

After I was absolutely certain I couldn't hear anything anymore, I let out the breath I hadn't been fully aware I was holding.

Then the door busted open.

I hoped to god that the granola bars in my backpack would survive the impact with the terrifying snake woman's face.

The… thing that had been on the other side of the door was nothing short of horrifying. It looked like a woman, provided said woman had skin so dry that it was practically scales, green scales, mind you, reptilian eyes, and two enormous tail-leg trunk things the thickness of telephone poles sprouting from her midsection. Not to mention the fact it was decked out in armor and armed to the teeth (which were very sharp-looking themselves, I must say.) with blades. She was also doing this weird flickering thing, like she would look like a blurry photograph for an instant before coming back into definition, which made looking at her painful, like looking into a blaring strobe light.

Basically, like my 8th grade physics teacher, Mrs. Burtshulk, but a little more ugly and part snake. Throwing my backpack at her face was a neigh-instinctual reaction.

Definitely-not-Mrs-Burtshulk was left dazed by my backpack, and apparently, that's all the girl needed to lung in close and stab her with the shitty non-stabbing magic knife.

She was screwed, I thought, until Definitely-not-Mrs-Burtshulk half-exploded, half-dissolved in a shower of golden light and my mouth nearly touched the floor.

"Holy shit." I said.

A hiss that had to be snake for 'I'm going to fucking kill you' sounded from outside, and I heard Definitely-not-Mrs-Burtshulk's sister change at the door.

The girl slid away from the hollow shell of collapsing armor Definitely-not-Mrs-Burtshulk left behind, out of the way of the door and locked eyes with mine. Oddly enough, she wasn't panicking, or was incredibly good at hiding it. "Grab the sword." She ordered, nodding towards the wall opposite to her.

There was an aluminum baseball bat where she nodded.

Okay, really?

Normally, I'd argue with her, but considering recent events, I was willing to go with this girl's orders, since she actually seemed to have a clue what the fuck was going on. I grabbed the bat, not really expecting it to weigh about 30 pounds, dragging it against the floor. I blinked, and took a look at the bat, half expecting something to be attached to it. Instead, in my hand was a sword.

It was the same color as the girl's knife, copper, but brighter, almost glowing. It had a small guard, with one side of it looking like it was partially broken off, and the grip was made of very worn leather. It was doing that weird flickering thing that Definitely-not-Mrs-Burtshulk was doing, but instead of going blurry, it was flicking between a sword and a bat.

I tried to shoot the girl another desperately confused look, but she was focusing intently on the door, and I could hear the monster on the other side not ten feet away, hissing more assumed snake profanities at us. I lifted the sword, placing both of my hands on the grip, and tried to look like I knew what I was doing.

This one was bigger than Definately-not-Mrs-Burtshulk, and she came in swinging with a scimitar in each hand. It was a wonder she fit in the door. She had more armor, and a lot of gold jewelry adorning her body that looked comically gaudy. She was also doing that annoying flickering thing, which I was really hoping wasn't going to become a thing if I survived this.

The girl rolled out of the way as the gaudy snake woman let out a hiss, her snake-legs shaking and rumbling, reminding me of a rattlesnake. With the girl out of swinging distance all of her focus turned on the only other person in the room.

Oh fuck, that's me.

She swung at me with both of her blades, and awkwardly, I shoved the bat-sword in-between me and her swords. When they clashed together, I nearly dropped mine, only just barely holding onto it, as her swords clashed against mine, one only locked in place thanks to the handguard. Numbing pain shot up the my arms, and while I'm far from weakest guy around, this snake woman could probably bench press my old apartment building, and I was not going to win any battle of force with her. Oddly enough, I wasn't dazed by the blow, but instead, I was hyper-aware. The sword-bat stopped flickering and became a definite sword, as did the snake woman, who somehow got more hideous in high-def. She also could do well to invest in some Mentos.

The girl made her move quickly, running for the snake woman with her knife ready, but the snake woman was good, the sword that was uselessly pressed against the guard flew off in a moment, and swung around to meet the girl, who only narrowly blocked it herself, stumbling back, with her knife trembling against the scimitar, her face twisted in pain.

The snake woman let out an unfitting giggle, throwing her head back, it quickly devolved into a throaty hissing laugh. "Sssssso weak!" she crowed. "Give up now, and I will grant you quick death and only mild dissssssmemberment!"

I grit my teeth. She was right. I was barely holding on to my sword, which was a feat in and of itself considering I'd never held one a day in my life, and the girl couldn't handle this behemoth alone. If the agonized expression told me anything, it looks like she might have been wounded before this.

"Erre es korakas." The girl hissed through clenched teeth.

Whatever that meant, it got the snake woman's attention as she turned to face the girl, and hissed something at her, I didn't really pay attention, because I was trying really hard to not make my jaw fall to the ground in shock at how cocky this snake woman was.

In the early days, when a lot of people were still in New York, I had gotten into a few fights of the 'to-the-death' variety. Gotten stabbed once, maybe twice or five times, I didn't count. Before then, the worst fight I had been in never got above a few punches, so I had a to learn how to deal with someone who genuinely has no qualms ending my life, it was rough, but I managed.

But, even as an amateur, I quickly learned to never take your eyes off anyone involved. Even that sickly looking kid huddled in the corner can get in a sucker stab that'll be the death of you if you're not aware. When you take your eyes off your opponent; that's when you lose fights. Maybe this wasn't a knife fight like I was used to, and maybe this was my first time holding a sword, but the principal should still hold up.

I was still fighting against the pressure of the scimitar, unsuccessfully, mind you, driven back a centimeter more each second from the weight of the sword.

Well, this has a chance to kill me instantly, but, hey, I was still gonna die if I didn't try it.

I jumped back, letting the sword dip and go slack in my hand, letting it be pushed back by the scimitar. All of the force that the snake woman had been putting into pressuring me was suddenly released, and it threw her off balance. My arms felt like jell-o, but I tightened my hold again and swung wildly for her hand, hoping to god it would at least get her hand off the sword for a second.

Instead, I got her hand off her body. The scimitar clattered uselessly to the ground, with the hand still gripping the hilt.

The snake woman bellowed, and, apparently having not learned her lesson, brought all of her focus back on me. Not missing a beat, the girl parried the sword and tried to lunge for the snake woman again, this time, in her guard, but one of the gigantic snake tails hit her in her midsection, like some sort of snake kung-fu kick, and send her flying back. The girl, somehow, in her flailing, managed to slice open the wrist of the snake woman, and the second scimitar clattered to the ground with another shriek of pain.

Not wanting to wait for her to recover or willing to let her get a sword back in her hand, I lunged, slashing at the snake woman with as much strength as I could, only to get sucker punched by another snake tail kung-fu kick, sword clattering out of my hand and falling flat on my ass.

I blinked, dazed, feeling the weight of the snake woman press down on me with her scaly leg. When my head finally stopped spinning, I saw the snake woman cast a glance over her shoulder, checking on the girl, probably, before turning back to me with a cruel grin of snaggly fangs.

"You Ssssshould feel honored, to die by my hand issssss not a pleassssssure all demigodssssss enjoy." She toyed with the hilt of the sword I had used to cut off her hand, her eyes shifting to it like it was poison every so often.

It struck me how similar the blade was to the girl's weird knife that either doesn't work or worked incredibly well. Now that I thought about it, the girl's blade did that soft glowing thing too.

Then, I had an idea. A really stupid one. My mom turning in her grave stupid. But seeing as I was pretty much dead anyways, I had nothing to lose. The girl was probably unconscious on the floor from that hit, or whatever injury she looked like she had earlier was otherwise making it impossible for her to help right now. I was probably on my own, and I was out of other options. Of course, or this plan to even begin working, I had to give into that bad habit of taunting death while staring into it's face. I made a quick promise to myself to kick that habit if I managed to survive, but right now, it might just work in my favor. Might.

"I guess it'll be half as many from how on, huh?" I said with a cocky grin that I tried very hard to make it look shit-eating instead of terrified. The look on her face told me I should be flashing the latter.

An unsettling rumble came from somewhere in the back of her throat, and she narrowed her pupils into incredibly thin slits just before plunging the sword into my sternum.

I flinched, closing my eyes. I think that helped make it convincing, or maybe, because it was just real. In the end it was just a hunch that the sword wouldn't hurt me, a rather weak one at that. I had to hope my hunch was on the money though, because I seriously did not want to explain how I got myself gored to my mom.

I swallowed nervously, waiting. A few seconds passed and I still didn't feel anything. I could hear the snake woman laughing, but it was distant compared to the rolling thunder of my pulse in my ears. After swallowing down my fear the best I could manage, I wrenched open my eyes, and couldn't help but gasp.

The sword was impaled neatly in my chest, and I wasn't sure if my stupid plan worked or if I had just gone into shock. I stared at the sword, and then looked up at the snake woman with smug satisfaction written all over her face. I swallowed thickly, which I took as a good sign, since I wasn't sure if someone with a sword in their sternum could swallow.

With trembling hands, I reached for the blade's hilt. It was just barely short enough for me to be able to grip it firmly, but I'd never be able to pull it out if I was actually skewered.

"Feissssssty, aren't you?" The snake woman above me purred. "I like that in a demigod. I'm ssssssure your friend will be the ssssssame. But, it'ssssss too late for you. Even if you could pull that ssssssword out, you'd bleed out." She let out another one of those creepy giggles that didn't sound right coming from her.

I mumbled some gibberish, wiggling the sword in my hands and felt no pain when it moved around. Just like the knife. Screw my C- average, I might just be a bona fide genius. Or in shock and delirious.

"What wassssss that?" She craned her head in a little bit, smiling down at me

"I said," Trying to make my voice feel breathless and ragged, masking the grin that was threatening to erupt all over my face with a pained expression."Your bling... looks like tacky, plastic, convenience store jewelry."

Her face dropped, as did the penny.

I pulled the sword out of my chest, straight through my lung and rib cage as if they were air, and swung it at the leg that was holding me down.

At the last second, she reared back, but she was too slow. The sword cut through that telephone pole's worth of snake like it was a hot knife cutting into butter. The snake woman fell back, leaving her right leg lying lifelessly on my stomach.

The snake woman screeched quickly rolled over, facing me, her golden eyes bloodshot and her face the picture of hatred. Her eyes darted to the scimitar on the ground with her hand still attached, and she dove for it. Scrambling, I struggled under the weight of the snake leg, shoving it off me while my mind, still trying to figure out if I now had a gash between the left side of my body, was making focusing and breathing a little difficult.

However, the snake woman never got her chance, as the girl jumped on top of her back and with a grunt, slid her knife between the shoulder blades of the snake woman. She let out a short gasp before, finally, explode-dissolving into a flash of gold light, taking her massive snake leg along with her, and leaving only gaudy jewelry and foul-smelling yellow powder to remember her by.

My muscles all decided that my adrenaline rush was over, and promptly decided to go limp. I sprawled myself out on the cabin floor, looking up at the ceiling, breathing heavily with aching arms and half-shattered nerves.

After a few blissful seconds of living in a state other than confused panic, my hand shot up to feel at my side, confirming once and for all that I was still in one piece. I sighed, taking a deep breath with both lungs this time, my brain finally seeming to get the picture.

"Percy." I blurted breathlessly. My eyes wandered over to the girl who sat on her hands and knees over the powdery remains of the snake woman, who stared at me in a way that did not feel wholly friendly. "Percy Jackson."

After a few seconds, I finally saw her shoulders slump, just the tiniest bit, and she sighed.

"Annabeth Chase." She said as she shifted into sitting, legs crossed and her knife still in hand.

I grunted, pushing myself up off the ground and into the fetal position, the sword left on the floor. I stared at the door, as it swing slightly from the sea breeze, for god knows how long, until words finally bubbled through my mouth, unbidden.

"Thanks," I blurted, caught in a half daze. I felt my cheeks go hot, but I kept staring out the door, hoping she wouldn't notice if I played it cool. "For making them explode. Couldn't figure out how to do that."

"You're taking this surprisingly well," She said, her tone somehow managing to be casual and suspicious at the same time. "Was this your first time seeing one?"

I let out a short, airy laugh that cracked about halfway through. "No," My voice was unsteady as I shook my head, playing out the scene in my head over again, the surreality of it finally crashing down on me. "Can't say I've ever seen one of those…"

"Dracaenae."

"Dracowhatevers." I snapped, making an abrupt, dismissive gesture in her direction. "First time seeing them. And, trust me, I'm not taking this well. I just have been a little too busy trying to survive to actually freak the fuck out like I've wanted to." I ran my hands through my hair, and mussed my hair once they reached the back of my head.

I shot the girl a panicked look, and swallowed, which felt a lot like trying to down a cotton ball. "Do you mind explaining everything that just happened because I'm having a little fucking trouble figuring this shit out."

She sighed, like me freaking out was wearisome to her. "Just calm down,"

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down!" I shouted. "I just fucking cut off a snake woman's snake leg and that's not even the most fucked up part of this!"

She raised an eyebrow at me, though only slightly, her face otherwise impassive and guarded, and we had a staredown. After a few good, long, infuriating seconds, she closed her eyes, and sighed once more, this time, throwing her whole body into the action, relaxing tense muscles. When she opened them again, her expression was no longer so guarded. She still seemed annoyed, but not in a bored way, more of a sympathetic kind of annoyed, like she understood why I was acting the way I was, but made no effort to hide the fact that she felt I was being unreasonable.

"You want an explanation, right?" Her voice sounded a considerably more relaxed, and she moved her body slightly along with her words.

I nodded.

"Well, then let's close that door and get some seats. This is gonna take a while." She dragged a hand down her face, suddenly looking wholly tired.

AN: Told you It'd be longer.