The taste of beef and greasy fries was heaven in his mouth, refreshing soda washing it all down. Percy didn't notice himself slipping into a slight daze, only enjoying the delicious meal.

The four sat at the picnic table, sky cloudless over their heads. The cluster of trees surrounding them looked almost ominous in darkness of night, wind whistling through the leaves. It was just cold enough to get under his skin, but something about Aunty Em made him forget the discomfort.

"So," Percy finally said, in an attempt to make conversation. "You sell gnomes."

She nodded. "Oh, yes. And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know."

"A lot of business on the road?"

Her voice sounded more resigned when she answered. "Not so much, no," Aunty Em admitted. "Since the highway was built, they do not go this was now. I must cherish every customer I get."

Percy glanced at one of the statues, a little girl holding an Easter basket. It was amazingly detailed, but the horrified look in her face made the work unsettling.

Aunty Em seemed to catch on to his train of thought. "Ah," she told him. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face."

"You make the statues yourself?" He asked.

"Oh, yes," she answered. "Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company." The sadness in her voice drew Percy closer, weighing him down along with her.

"Two sisters?" He wondered, and she nodded sadly.

"It's a terrible story," she started. "Not one for children, really. You see, Percy, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price."

Percy didn't fully understand what she meant, but he felt himself sympathizing either way. Who would want to hurt someone so nice?

"Percy?" Grover started, looking over at him. "Maybe we should go. I mean, the ringmaster will be waiting."

Luke seemed to ignore him, addressing Aunty Em in what seemed like the first time. "I saw you have a really nice vintage camera, back near the shop."

She nodded excitedly. "I do," she confirmed, almost proudly. "Actually, would you dears be willing to sit for a pose?"

Percy sipped contentedly on his drink, watching the exchange. Luke smiled back, Grover looking terrified as usual. "We would be happy to," he answered. "Right, Perce?"

"Actually," Grover reminded them. "We're kind of pressed for time."

"Nonsense," Luke scoffed, pulling Percy up to his feet. He didn't try to resist, stumbling only slightly. Grover made a little unhappy sound, narrowing his eyes.

"We need to go, guys," Grover urged, standing along with the others. Percy shook his head, earning himself a scowl.

"We have enough time for a photo, right?" He asked. Aunty Em seemed to agree, gesturing at them to follow. They were lead back to the front of the house, near most the statues. She directed the three to one of the benches, having them all sit down as she brought out an old-fashioned camera.

To Percy, it didn't even look like it would work, but Aunty Em started to mess with the tiny machine. She glanced at them, veil covering her face.

"There's not much light for a photo," Percy remarked. Aunty Em just shook her head, tutting gently.

"Just enough for us to see one another," she promised. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me, everyone? A large smile?"

Grover ignored the request, looking just as spooked as ever. Aunty Em kept playing with the camera, sighing through the fabric concealing her features.

"I will just be a moment," she told them. "You know, I can't see you very well with this cursed veil..."

"Percy!" Grover hissed, panicking. Percy felt like he should be paying attention, every one of his instincts telling him to bolt, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Just calm down," she said, voice almost reassuring. Wrinkled hands went to undo the veil, working slowly. They managed to pull it up just a bit, revealing dark red lips and pointed teeth.

Pointed teeth.

That did it for him. Percy jolted with a start, bringing both of his friends down as the hissing of snakes was heard overhead. The three landed with a hard thud, the action fully jarring him back to reality.

He looked at all the statues around him for what felt like the first time, heart pounding roughly in his chest. "Guys," he whispered, pulling them behind the stone bench. "What monster can turn people into stone?"

Luke didn't offer any reply, seemingly thinking hard. Grover was the one who gave them the answer; "Medusa."

He shuddered, looking at both of them. "How do we kill her?" Grover seemed unsure, Luke almost uncaring.

Medusa spoke from the other side of their hiding spot, voice inhuman. "Come on, dears. We still haven't taken that picture."

He couldn't pinpoint whether or not she had gotten closer. He pulled out his pen from his pocket, uncapping it, and his sword sprang to full form.

Percy jumped over the stone bench, and the others could have sworn they heard the soft rumble of thunder as he ran to the monster.

Glimmering stars freckled the ongoing sky, wisps of clouds trailing the crescent moon. They found camp deep into the forest, secluded from monsters and humanity.

Grover climbed up into the lowest pine tree he could find, settling himself on the rough bark. His eyes peeked out from under his cap, sigh escaping his lips.

Luke made himself comfortable on the ground, settling himself near Percy. The other sat straight up, bringing his hands to his mouth to warm them.

"Go ahead and sleep," he told the son of Hermes, voice quiet. "I'll wake you up if there's trouble."

Luke looked up at him. "You sure?" Percy nodded, watching from the corner of his eye as Luke curled up and drifted off.

Grover and Percy stayed in companionable silence for a short time, the satyr breaking it with a melancholy musing. "It makes me so sad, Percy."

"What does?" He asked, confused. "The fact that you signed up for this stupid quest?

"No," he answered. "This does." Percy looked up as he pointed to the occasional garbage littering the ground. "And the sky. You can barely see any stars. They've polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr."

"Oh, yeah," he realized. "I guess you'd be an environmentalist."

Grover looked at him, glaring. "Only a human wouldn't be. Your species is clogging up the world so fast- ah, never mind. It's useless to lecture a human. At the rate things are going, I'll never find Pan."

"Pam? Like the cooking spray?"

"Pan!" He cried out, sounding indignant. "P-a-n. The great god Pan! What do you think I want a searcher's license for?"

A strange breeze wafted through the small clearings, overtaking the musty scent of garbage and muck. It smelled of berries and windflowers, things that might've been in this area long ago.

"Tell me about the search."

Grover looked at him cautiously, but started nonetheless. "The god of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago," he told Percy. "A sailor off the coast of Ephesos heard a mysterious voice crying out from the shore: 'Tell them that the great god Pan has died!' When humans heard the news, they believed it. They've been pillaging Pan's kingdom ever since. But for the satyrs, Pan was our lord and master. He protected us and the wild places of the Earth. We refused to believe that he died. In every generation, the bravest satyrs pledge their lives to finding Pan. They search the Earth, exploring all the wildest places, hoping we can find where he is hidden and wake him from his sleep."

Percy thought about that when he was done. "And you want to be a searcher?"

"It's my life's dream," he said. "I want to be the first searcher to return alive."

Percy went wide-eyed at that. "Hang on- the first?"

Grover took his reed pipes from his pocket. "No searcher has ever come back. Once they set out, they disappear. They're never seen alive again."

"Not once in two thousand years?"

"No."

"But you still want to go," Percy mused, amazed. "I mean, you really think you'll be the one to find Pan?"

"I have to believe that, Percy," he said. "Every searcher does. It's the only thing that keeps us from despair when we look at what humans have done to the world. I have to believe Pan can still be awakened."

Something came to Percy's mind. "How are we going to get into the Underworld? I mean, do we really have a chance against a god?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But something is going on with this quest. Something strange."

"Well, duh. I'm getting blamed for stealing a thunderbolt that Hades took."

"That's not what I mean," Grover clarified. "The Fur- the Kindly Ones were sort of holding back. Back on the bus, they just weren't as aggressive as they could've been."

"They were plenty aggressive to me," he answered.

Grover shook his head. "They were screeching at us. 'Where is it? Where?'"

"Asking about me," he pointed out.

"Maybe," Grover said, uncertainly. "But I got the feeling they weren't asking for a person. They said 'where is it?' They seemed to be asking about an object."

"That doesn't make sense."

"I know," Grover agreed. "But if we misunderstood something about this quest, and we only have nine days to find the master bolt..." He looked at Percy as if the satyr was hoping for answers, but he didn't have any.

He thought about it, sighing deeply. "I haven't been straight with you," he admitted. "I don't care about the master bolt. I agreed to go to the Underworld so I could bring back my mother."

Grover blew a soft note on his pipes. "I know that, Percy. But are you sure that's the only reason?"

"I'm not doing it for my father, if that's what you mean," he replied. "I don't even know who that is. If he cared, he would have claimed me. But he doesn't care about me, and I don't care about him."

Grover gazed down at him from his tree branch. "Look, Percy. I'm not as good with a sword as Luke. I'm not as brave as you. But I'm pretty good at reading emotions. You're glad that your dad is alive, even if you don't know him. Part of you wants to make him proud. That's why you mailed Medusa's head to Olympus. You wanted him to notice what you'd done."

Percy crossed his arms, breaking eye contact. "Yeah?" He asked. "Well, maybe satyr emotions work differently than human emotions. Because you're wrong. I don't care what he thinks."

Grover huffed, giving up. "Okay, Percy. Whatever."

Percy took a shuddering breath, feeling Grover's concern gaze burn holes in the back of his head. "Besides," he muttered. "I haven't done anything worth bragging about. We barely got out of New York and we're still stuck here with no money and no way west."

Grover seemed to consider that, finally offering a small, reassuring smile. "How about I take first watch, huh? You can get some rest."

Percy wanted to protest, but Grover started playing on his reed pipes. Laying down, back touching Luke's, he let his eyes slip close as he fell into sleep.