Hello! SO sorry for the long wait. Like, long wait. LIke, really long wait. But don't worry! I promise that this chapter will be great. I've been working on (and finished!) my TT fanfic, Black as Night. Be sure to check it out! In recent news, Nuggets the Harpy was fired from Aeolus's fortress and was hired at CHB. Anyways, enjoy the story. Favorite, review, and read! (Bee Tee Dubs: I melded previous chappie 3 into this one, because of its length)

"Camp Half-Blood is sort of a summer camp-slash-Shelter from the Storm facility.

Only shelter from monsters instead of abusive parents," Butch said. "We've got canoe races and capture the flag on fridays, along with pegasus riding and combat practice. Trust me, you're going to love this place."
I simply nodded.

After dad pulled that stunt on me about the last-minute summer camp, I went through a number of emotions in about ten seconds. Surprise, disbelief, anger, then a cool serving of mute.

So I was a demigod. Cool. The blood of a human and god mashed together into the delicate meat sack that is my body. Along the beaten path of our lives, monsters constantly try to rip out your throat with their teeth, gods purposely make your day miserable, and you barely survive to age eighteen. And that's if you're lucky. I didn't tell Butch who my godly parent was because dad told me not to. Something about it not being official and causing strife among the camp. I didn't really listen.

I wasn't exactly a happy camper.

Butch spoke again, "Tara, I'm going to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?" I nodded. I've already been through some weird stuff already. A few questions probably wouldn't hurt. "Are you any good with weapons of any kind?" Butch continued, "Javelins, spears, shotguns?"

"I'm pretty good with a bow," I said. It was true. A couple years back, dad entered me in an archery competition just for fun. I won first place by getting all my arrows within two circles from the bullseye. The judges were astounded. I never entered in any more of those competitions because I thought it was beginner's luck. Dad thought it was too.

"Okay," Butch said. "I'm guessing that you never met your mother because your father is right here." He gestured toward dad. "Am I correct?" I nodded. "Okay then, last question. Have your dad ever told you about your mother? Appearances, personalities, anything?"

I stole a look over at dad. His face was calm and stoic, but his eyes were saying, Not now. Later.

"No," I lied. Butch looked suspicious, but he just kept driving

Butch walked us up a hill. After driving for an hour along Farm Road 3.141, (what type of farm road is that?) we stopped at the base of a big hill (Butch told me it was called Half-Blood Hill) with a huge pine tree large enough to be the christmas tree of NYC. What was weird and kind of frightening, there was a dragon, a real dragon coiled around the base of the tree. A glittery gold fleece hung from one of the branches.

"That's Thalia's Pine," Butch said. "Years ago, two demigods and a satyr were being pursued by an army of monsters. They made their way up to this hill. One of the demigods, Thalia, made her final stand there," he pointed at the pine tree. "The other demigod and the satyr made it out, but Thalia was killed. Lucky for her, Zeus, her father, took pity on her and turned her into the tree. Then, a demigod son of Hermes named Luke snuck into the camp and poisoned the tree. Ironically, Luke was one of the demigods chased by the monsters." He laughed bitterly. "Afterwards, Percy Jackson, Son of Poseidon, Annabeth Chase, Daughter of Athena, Clarisse La Rue, Daughter of Ares, and a satyr named Grover retrieved the Golden Fleece and brought it to here, where it healed the tree and brought back Thalia. She joined the Hunters of Artemis, which are sort of like an immortal-hardcore-girls-only huntress club. Anyways, the Fleece strengthens the magical borders around camp. The borders prevent monsters from getting in, which makes it one of the only safe havens in the world for demigods.

I nodded and trudged up Half-Blood hill. When my feet got a few steps away from the top and my head was just below the peak, Butch stopped us and turned around. He looked down at us. I'm sure he didn't mean it, but with his back to the sun and buff figure, he looked intimidating and menacing. As if he were, well, a god.

"This is where you leave, Allen. You know camp's not meant for mortals," He rumbled.

I looked back at dad, who looked sullen, maybe even depressed. He nodded, then looked at me and said, "Be safe." Then he turned around and started to walk down the hill.

Butch, satisfied, turned to the other side of the hill and called out, "Nuggets?

A fat, chicken-like thing with wings flew over the hill. It had a mashed-up face and a maid's apron.

"Nuggets, go tell Chiron that a new one has arrived. Same protocol, same everything. And no stopping for snacks!"

The thing flew away grumbling. Butch turned around towards me. "That was a harpy. They aren't very bright, but they're good for cleaning and eating. Come on. You're almost ready for your first look at camp."

~~O~~

At first I thought I went nuts. Or maybe I was in bed at our house. (The new one.) But neither of those was the case. When I lived in Oregon, I saw some pretty beautiful things. Animals, trails, hidden meadows untouched by humanity, but that was nothing compared to this sprawling camp below me.

Camp Half-Blood was a medley of sights, sounds, and colors. From the Long Island Sound, (which was conveniently located right next to camp.) two creeks flowed inland. The one on my left flowed through the middle of a forest that was just shouting, What secrets do I hold? What dangers do I conceal? The one on the right flowed in a shallow bowl shape

with a lake in the middle. Volleyball courts, (I love volleyball.) a big blue house, an arena, fields of strawberries, and a bizarre collection of cabins peppered the landscape.

But I could tell that something was wrong. Instead of scaling a climbing wall in the distance, people were running around the camp, carrying weapons and armor. Catapults were being rolled to face Half-Blood Hill (which made me more than a little nervous) and campers were piling huge bronze spheres near them.

"The campers are preparing for the Roman invasion," Butch said grimly. "We don't know if we'll win, but it's always good to think positive."

Romans? As much as I was enjoying being a half-blood, I was getting more and more confused. Last I checked, the Romans died out thousands of years ago.

But then again, I was literally standing above a summer camp for teenagers who has both a godly and human parent, so I guess I shouldn't talk.

God, my life is weird.

Butch walked me down the hill, talking while he does so. Sometimes he told me about cool stuff, like swimming in the canoe lake and friday capture-the-flag. Others were darker, like going into the woods at night and the Titan War last summer. Campers running around looked at me in greeting. Most looked hardened and cautious, but I saw some kids just my age. They looked frightened.

The gods have been busy. I cracked a smile.

Eventually Butch dropped me off in the middle of the group of cabins I saw from the hill. He told me he needed to go see someone, and that I should go and make some friends. I had nothing to do and I was feeling self-conscious so I started walking.

When I saw the boy flung into the lake, I knew something was wrong.

A boy, about fifteen, shot into the air at the speed of a pro-thrown baseball. Instead of screaming and flailing his arms, (like I would) he formed himself into a rigid standing position. He fell much faster as a result, but he hit the lake feet first, rocking the canoes and swimmers floating around. He bobbed up later. Better than dying of an atomic bellyflop, I suppose.

He looked like he came from the forest so I jogged towards there. When I arrived at the scene, it was so amazingly bizarre, I wasn't sure that this was all real anymore.

Butch, a man on a horse, and a girl were standing on the edge of a clearing, looking at the massive Venus Flytrap. It was about twenty feet tall, slightly smaller than your average pine tree, with thick, whipping vines near the base of the, what do you call the thing that bites? The flower? The head? Which had red stripes running across its gaping maw.

I wanted to get a better look at it so I walked side by side to the others. By that time I noticed a few things.

The guy on the horse? Yeah, that description was incorrect. It looks like the man and the horse fused together. From the waist down he was a white stallion, the kind you see in movies. But right where the neck and head should be, there was a middle-aged man's torso. The man had brown hair, a scruffy beard, and bushy eyebrows above his intense hazel eyes that had a depth that came from knowing many things. He wore a brown jacket with a greenish shirt under. A bow and quiver was slung on his back.

As for the girl standing next to the horse-man? She was the girl from my dream of the cave.

I stared at both of them with growing wonder until they finally noticed me. Instantly, the horse-man's features turned into a broad smile.

"Ah! Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, young hero," he said to me with obvious joy and a healthy amount of relief. "I am Chiron."

I continued to stare at him for a little bit until I started looking at the girl again. She looked almost exactly the same as in my dream. Tight denim jeans, an orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, blond hair streaked with black. I noticed she had deep blue eyes, the type of eyes that are so noticeable, you can see them from across the block.

She spoke, "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"

"Uhhhhhhh..."

She laughed.

The horse guy, Chiron, cleared his throat. "Tara, is it? this is Katherine. That," he gestured to the Flytrap, "is a carnivorous Chalcian Maneater. The Demeter Cabin, Katherine's siblings, got a little out of control with an old scroll they found buried in their strawberry fields."

"Dangerous gardens." I replied. "How do we kill it?" I figured that since the Romans were going to invade soon, I needed to learn how to fight. My goal is to get to the point in which I can defend myself well enough to avoid getting skewered by Roman commandos in the first thirty seconds.

Katherine spoke up. "It's incredibly difficult to kill a Chalcian Maneater. Its teeth are the size of daggers and just as sharp. Its skin is like iron and the vines will wrap you up and squeeze until you burst like a pimple."

"Well first, that's gross. Second, we obviously can't have this gigantic flower tearing up the camp. What are we gonna do?" Butch said.

I thought for a moment. Then it hit me. "Tear up its roots."

Everyone looked at me. I suddenly felt very self-conscious. "I mean, it's roots are probably unprotected, right? If we expose them and slice them through, there's a good chance that it'll be very weak, if not outright dead.

The horse-guy, Chiron, spoke up. "Not a bad idea, but is there a surefire way to erase that much land in a small amount of time."

"Actually Chiron," Katherine said, "We've been working on a way to manipulate the plant matter underground. I could round up a couple of my sibs to help me out."

He still looked skeptical, but finally agreed. He also suggested for me to go with her. "A camper always needs a friend!" I decided to follow Captain Hallmark Card's advice, half because she seems cool, and half because I wanted more information on her.

Anyways, it would've been helpful if I knew the real truth about Katherine. It would've saved me a lot of trouble.