A/N: I don't own the rights to any of the Percy Jackson series or it's characters. That right gaoes to Rick Riordan. I also don't own the rights to Animorph including it's title.

I am, however, the person who posted 'The Tales of...' series.

This is not a crossover of the Percy Jackson series with the book/tv series Animorph, despite what you might think from the title. I just thought it be a proper name for the ability to turn into animals since that's why the tv/book series 'Animorph' was called that in the first place.

Also, ever since I got my latest Laptop I been stuck using Google Docs and Copy and paste my chapters and for some reason when I save what I paste any formats I made is turn to normal format. I even have to bold the chapter titles, but as I'm sure you noticed sometimes I forget to do that. So anything I normally itallilize like thoughts come out normal text. A/N at the beginning and end of each keep the format changes because I add them without copying and pasting from google doc.

If you haven't read this yet, read:

Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Sea of Monsters
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Titan's Curse
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Battle of the Labyrinth
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Stolen Chariot
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Sword of Hades
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Bronze Dragon
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Last Olympian
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Staff of Hermes
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Singer of Apollo

Piper: I Remember Visiting Grandpa Tom's Cabin

I didn't relax until the glow of Quebec City faded behind us.

"You were amazing," Jason told me.

The compliment should've made my day. But all I could think about was the trouble ahead. Evil things are stirring, Zethes had warned them I knew that first hand. The closer we got to the solstice, the less time I had to make my decision.

I told Jason in French: "If you knew the truth about me, you wouldn't think I was so amazing."

"What'd you say?" he asked.

"I said I only talked to Boreas. It wasn't so amazing.

I didn't turn to look, but I imagine him smiling.

"Hey," he said, "you saved me from joining Khione's subzero hero collection. I owe you one."

That was definitely the easy part, I thought. There was no way I would've let that ice witch keep Jason. It still bothers me the way Boreas had changed form, and why he'd let them go. It had something to do with Jason's past, those tattoos on his arm. Boreas assumed Jason was sort of Roman, and Romans didn't mix well with Greeks. I kept waiting for Jason to offer an explanation, but he clearly didn't want to talk about it.

Until now, I had been able to dismiss Jason's feeling that he didn't belong at Camp Half-Blood. Obviously he was a course he belonged. But now... what if he was something else? What if he really was an enemy? I couldn't stand that idea any more than I could stand Khione.

Leo passed us some sandwiches from his pack. He'd been quiet ever since we'd told him what happened in the throne room. "I still can't believe Khione," he said. "She looked so nice."

"Trust me, man," Jason said. "Snow maybe pretty but its also cold and can be deadly. We'll find you a better prom date."

I smiled, but Leo didn't look pleased. He hadn't said much about his time in the palace, or why the Boreads had singled him out for smelling like fire. I got the feeling he was hiding something. Whatever it was, his mood seemed to be affecting Festus, who grumbled and steamed as he tried to keep himself warm in the cold Canadian air. Happy the Dragon was not so happy.

We ate our sandwiches as we flew. I had no idea how Leo had stocked up on supplies, but he'd even remembered to bring veggie rations for me. The cheese avocado sandwich was awesome.

Nobody talked. Whatever we might find in Chicago, we all knew Boreas had only let us go because he figured we were already on a suicide mission.

This mistress Zethes and Boreas warned about been bugging me too Judging from what Boreas said the mistress has something against the original Jason and might kill the present Jason just because they share a name. Then there was the fact that this mistress obviously scared Zethes, as if he met her in person once and never wanted to meet her again. And the way he hinted that Heracles never met her, made it sound like it could either be a good thing or bad thing. But the way Zethes said Heracles never met her as a demigod made it sound like it was someone from ancient times that he had met.

The moon rose and stars turned overhead. My eyes started to feel heavy. The encounter with Boreas and his children had scared me more than I wanted to admit. Now that I had a full stomach, my adrenaline was fading.

Suck it up, cupcake! Coach Hedge would've yelled at me. Don't be a wimp!

I had been thinking about the coach ever since Boreas mention he was still alive. I never liked Hedge but he'd leaped off a cliff to save Leo, and he'd sacrificed himself to protect us on the skywalk. I now realized that all the times at school the coach had pushed me, yelled at me to run faster or do more push-ups, or even when he'd turned his back and let me fight my own battles with the mean girls, the old goat man had been trying to help me in his own irritating way-trying to prepare me for life as a demigod.

On the skywalk, Dylan the storm spirit had said something about the coach, too: how he'd been retired to Wilderness School because he was getting too old, like it was some sort of punishment. I wondered what that was about, and if it explained why the coach was always so grumpy. Whatever the truth, now that I knew Hedge was alive, I had a strong compulsion to save him.

Don't get ahead of myself, I chided. You've got bigger problems. This trip won't have a happy ending.

I was a traitor. It was a matter of time before my friends found out.

I looked up at the stars and thought about a night long ago when my dad and I camped out in front of Grandpa Tom's House. Grandpa Tom had died years before, but Dad had kept his house in Oklahoma because it was where he grew up.

We'd gone back for a few days, with the idea of getting the place fixed up to sell, although I wasn't sure who'd want to buy a run-down cabin with shutters instead of windows and two tiny rooms that smelled like cigars. The first night had been so stifling hot-no air conditioning in the middle of August-that Dad suggested we sleep outside.

We'd spread our sleeping bags and listened to the cicadas buzzing in the trees. I pointed out the constellations I'd been reading about-Hercules, Apollo's lyre, Sagittarius the centaur.

My dad crossed his arms behind his head. In his old t-shirt and jeans, he looked like just another guy from Tahlequah, Oklahoma, a Cherokee who might've never left tribal lands. "Your grandpa would say those Greek patterns are a bunch of bull. He told me the stars were creatures with glowing fur, like magic hedgehogs. Once, long ago, some hunters even captured a few in the forest. They didn't know what they'd done until nighttime, when the star creatures began to glow. Golden sparks flew from their fur, so the Cherokee released them back into the sky."

"You believe in magic hedgehogs?" I asked.

My dad sighed. "I think Grandpa Tom was full of bull, too, just like the Greeks. But it's a big sky. I suppose there's room for Hercules and hedgehogs."

We sat for a while, until I got the nerve to ask a question that had been bugging me. "Dad, why don't you ever play Native American Parts?"

The week before, he turned down several million dollars to play Tonto in a remake of The Lone Ranger. I was still trying to figure out why. He'd play all kinds of roles-a Latino teacher in a tough L.A. school, a dashing Israeli spy in an action adventure blockbuster, even a Syrian terrorist in a James Bond movie. And, of course, he would always be known as the King of Sparta. But if the part was Native American-it didn't matter what kind of role-Dad turned it down.

He winked at me. "Too close to home, Pipes. Easier to pretend I'm something I'm not."

"Doesn't that get old? Aren't you ever tempted, like, if you found the perfect part that could change people's opinions?"

"If there's a part like that, Pipes," he said sadly, "I haven't found it."

I looked at the stars, trying to imagine them as glowing hedgehogs. Back then all I saw were stick figures I knew-Hercules running across the sky, on his way to kill monsters. I thought Dad was probably right. The Greeks and the Cherokees were equally crazy. I thought the stars were just balls of fire.

"Dad," I said. "If you don't like being close to home, why are we sleeping in Grandpa Tom's yard?"

His laughter echoed in the quiet Oklahoma night. "I think you know me too well, Pipes."

"You're not really going to sell this place, are you?"

"Nope," he sighed. "I'm probably not."

I blinked, shaking myself out of the memory. I realized I'd been falling asleep on the dragon's back. How could my dad pretend to be so many things he wasn't? I was trying to do tat now, and it was tearing me apart.

Maybe I could pretend for a little while longer. I could dream of finding a way to save my father without betraying my friends. Even if right now a happy ending seemed about as likely as magic hedgehogs.

I leaned back against Jason's warm chest. He didn't complain. As soon as I closed my eyes, I drifted off to sleep.

A/N: Yeah I cut it from here in this story. I came up with an idea for the cyclopes battle and unfortunately it would require changes I'm hoping Jason having Heracle's strength would make possible compare to the original.