"Where ya been, cupcakes?"
Nico glared at Coach Hedge, who was lounging on a log a foot or two from the Parthenos, furry goat legs crossed and hands folded behind his head, grinning stupidly. The Coach wasn't really any help since they'd left–all he did was nap and eat up their snacks–but Nico didn't dare suggest he turn back. After all, Coach was pretty experienced with combat. They might need him later on. Besides, Nico felt bad for the guy. He'd had it as rough as any of them, even if he didn't show it.
"Scavenging," Reyna replied drily. "And you really shouldn't be mocking us when all you've done is sit around and eat."
"Not true! I've been disposing of our unneeded trash." He crumpled a bit of tinfoil and tossed it in his mouth. Nico shuddered.
"Whatever, Hedge. Nico and I are getting some shut-eye. Since you seem to be well-rested, take first watch," Reyna ordered, her tone laced with acid.
"Hey, respect your elders, young lady!" Coach said, pouting. Reyna's lip curled, as if she'd tasted something sour. Clearly, she didn't much favor the idea of Coach tagging along, either; and she didn't bother hiding it.
Nico settled down between Coach and the Athena Parthenos, resting his head on his sheathed sword. The ground was rough beneath him, moisture seeping through his clothing, and he wasn't entirely comfortable with leaving the Parthenos in the hands of Coach Hedge twice in one day–thing was a monster beacon, and if Coach dozed off again, it was bad news–but eventually fatigue overwhelmed him, his worries drifted, and he fell asleep.
When Nico aroused a few hours later, the sky was dark and twinkling with stars. Reyna was awake, feeding twigs to a campfire, her legs hugged to her chest and chin resting on her knees, eyes solemn as she stared at the dancing flames. Once she noticed him, she straightened, but her face was still sunken.
"How long have you been up?" Nico asked.
"Couple hours," Reyna responded, her voice a tired rasp.
"You should've woken me. I could've taken over."
"That wasn't necessary. You need sleep. And I'm fine."
But she didn't seem fine. The bags under her eyes were noticeable from yards away. Her eyelids kept drooping. She looked as if she might collapse any second.
"You're not," Nico said matter-of-factly. "You need rest as much as any of us. Go to sleep. I'll take the next shift."
"Nico–"
"Don't bother arguing, because I won't listen. Go to sleep. You need it."
Reyna pursed her lips, but she didn't protest again. She laid her head in her arms, curling up near the campfire like a kitten–not exactly the sleeping position Nico would expect from a Roman leader, but who was he to judge?
Reyna drifted off just as her eyes closed, her body un-tensing. Her pale face looked ghostly in the firelight, wan and a little dirty, but the shape of her head was still nice–round, oval; it made her appear older than she actually was. Her lips were parted, corners tugged up as if she were having a pleasant dream, and waves of brown hair framed her features like a painting. In the darkness, without her scowl and fiery determination in her eyes, Nico could almost believe she was just another ordinary teenager. But something about her appearance alarmed him–her hair seemed darker in the dim light, almost black, and she looked smaller, younger. She resembled someone a little too closely–Bianca.
Nico jerked his head away, his eyes prickling, and blinked. He waited for something to happen, something to jolt him out of his agonizing memories and back to reality, but the rest of the night was painfully silent.