The hell hound appeared out of nowhere. Its eyes twinkled in vicious malice, waiting to spring a ravish attack on the boy.
Paul froze. The sudden attack iced all his blood, all his bones, freezing him from the core of his heart to the top layer of his skin.
Sally frantically searched for anything that could be used to ward the savage beast off, but the three of them were out in the woods and the most dangerous item was a slightly pointy twig.
The hike was supposed to help recover some sense of family. It was supposed to help Percy adjust to life outside of camp, outside of quests, outside of war.
It started out pleasant; the sun hit them in just the right amount of warming rays and the natural, earthy air left them refreshed and rejuvenated. The serene surrounding obviously didn't last long.
But Percy was ready.
His hand gripped Riptide in the familiar comfort of an old friend's handshake. His feet stepped tactfully in the root infested ground, purposefully avoiding the larger, knotted ones.
The blade sliced through the afternoon air with ease and grace. The hell hound disintegrated into sand the golden color of the still shining sun. The fight hadn't even lasted a minute.
Sally gaped in shock.
This wasn't her 12 year old boy anymore, no, this was a professional swordsman. A warrior.
Percy was trained to kill, trained to be the best, trained to protect. But the way he was able to kill the hell hound so quickly… Well it was haunting.
The way he could switch from the smiling, bumbling teenager he had been just a few moments ago to this stony, almost cold soldier in the blink of an eye.
Sally felt she lost that little boy.
That little boy grew up.