12. WE GET ADVICE FROM A POODLE

We camped out in the woods, a hundred yards from the main road, in a marshy clearing that local kids had obviously been using for parties.

We'd taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's, but we didn't dare light a fire to dry our damp clothes. The Furies and Medusa had provided enough excitement for one day.

I took first watch since I was the one most used to all this.

Annabeth curled up on the blankets and was snoring as soon as her head hit the ground. Grover fluttered with his flying shoes to the lowest bough of a tree, put his back to the trunk, and stared at the night sky.

"Go ahead and sleep," I told him. "I'll wake you if there's trouble."

He nodded, but still didn't close his eyes. "It makes me sad, Percy."

"What does?"

"This. This makes me sad." He pointed at all the garbage on the ground. "And the sky. You can't even see the stars. They've polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr."

"I guess I sorta get it. Nature is beautiful when humans haven't trashed it."

It wasn't just because of the visual or the smell either. As someone who could literally be one with nature, I could feel the state of it, how it felt, and this world's felt…wrong. In places like forests, or at camp, I could feel the true essence of the nature energy: and it felt like the eye of a storm, the power flowing all around me.

I had at one point tried to absorb it, but it was much more concentrated than I was used to, like all of it was trying to rush into me all at once.

A strange breeze rustled through the clearing, temporarily overpowering the stink of trash and muck. It brought the smell of berries and wildflowers and clean rainwater, things that might've once been in these woods. Suddenly I was nostalgic for something I'd never known.

"You said something about a license earlier?" I said.

Grover looked at me cautiously.

"The God of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago," he told me. "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 refuse 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 to find where he is hidden, and wake him from his sleep."

"And you want to be a searcher."

"It's my life's dream," he said. "My father was a searcher. And my Uncle Ferdinand ... the statue you saw back there—"

"Ah right. Sorry about that"

Grover shook his head. "Uncle Ferdinand knew the risks. So did my dad. But I'll succeed. I'll be the first searcher to return alive."

"Heck you mean by 'first' ?"

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

"Since 2000 years ago!?"

"No."

"But you still want to go," I said, amazed. "I mean, you really believe that you'll be the one to find Pan?"

"I have to believe that, Percy. 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."

I stared at the orange haze of the sky and tried to understand how Grover could pursue a dream that seemed so hopeless. Then again, I wasn't really one to talk, with the whole ' I'M GONNA BE HOKAGE' business.

"How are we even gonna get to the Underworld?" I asked him.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But back at Medusa's, when you were searching her office? Annabeth was telling me that The Kindly Ones were sort of holding back. Like Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy ... why did she wait so long to try to kill you? Then on the bus, they just weren't as aggressive as they could've been."

"How the heck did they not seem aggressive to you

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

"Hmm.. 'It', not 'Him' I said.

"Yeah. They seemed to be asking about an object."

"That doesn't make sense."

"I know. But if we've misunderstood something about this quest, and we only have nine days to find the master bolt.."

I thought about what Medusa had said: I was being used by the gods. What lay ahead of me was worse than petrification. "There's something you should know," I told Grover. "I agreed to go to the Underworld so I could bring back my mother. If it came to either the bolt or my mom, I'm abandoning the quest."

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

"And help out my old man too I guess? I don't really have an opinion about him, but he is family"

Grover looked at the night sky"How about I take first watch, huh? You get some sleep."

I wanted to protest, but he started to play Mozart, soft and sweet, and I was asleep.

In my dreams, I stood in a dark cavern before a pit. Gray mist creatures churned all around me, whispering rags of smoke that I somehow knew were the spirits of the dead.

They tugged at my clothes, trying to pull me back, but I felt compelled to walk forward to the very edge of the chasm.

Looking down made me dizzy.

The pit was so wide and was so completely black, I knew it must be bottomless. Yet I had a feeling that something was trying to rise from the abyss, something huge and evil.

The little hero, an amused voice echoed far down in the darkness. Too weak, but still so wise, you will do.

The voice felt ancient—cold and heavy, like Madara had.

They have misled you, boy, it said. Barter with me. I will give you what you want.

A shimmering image hovered over the void: my mother, frozen at the moment she'd dissolved in a shower of gold.

Cold laughter echoed from the chasm.

An invisible force pulled me forward, but I stood strong.

'Help me rise, boy'. The voice said. 'Bring me the bolt. Strike a blow against the treacherous gods!'

Aint no way I do that spooky voice guy.

The spirits of the dead whispered around me, No! Wake!

The image of my mother began to fade. The thing in the pit tightened its grip around me.

I realized it wasn't trying to pull me in, but using me to pull itself out.

Wake! the dead whispered. Wake!

My eyes opened, and it was daylight.

"Well," Annabeth said, "the zombie lives."

I could still feel the grip of the voice around my chest. "How long was I asleep?"

"Long enough for me to cook breakfast." Annabeth tossed me a bag of nacho-flavoured corn chips from Aunty Em's snack bar. "And Grover went exploring. Look, he found a friend."

Grover was sitting cross-legged on a blanket with a…is that a pink poodle?

The poodle yapped at me. Grover said, "No, he's not."

I blinked. "Are you ... talking to a dog?"

The poodle growled.

"This thing," Grover warned, "is our ticket west. Be nice to him."

"You can talk to animals?"

Grover ignored the question. "Percy, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy."

I stared at Annabeth, figuring she'd laugh or something, but she was being serious.

"Don't look at me," I said. "I aint saying hello to a Poodle"

"Percy," Annabeth said. "I said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle."

The poodle growled.

I said hello to the poodle.

Grover explained that he'd come across Gladiola in the woods and they'd struck up a conversation. The poodle had run away from a rich local family, who'd posted a $200 reward for his return. Gladiola didn't really want to go back to his family, but he was willing to if it meant helping Grover.

"How does Gladiola know about the reward?" I asked.

"He read the signs," Grover said. "Duh."

"Seems legit."

"So, we turn in Gladiola," Annabeth explained "we get money, and we buy tickets to Los Angeles. Simple."

"Better not be another bus" I said warily.

"No," Annabeth agreed.

She pointed downhill, toward train tracks I was barely able to see last night in the dark. "There's an Amtrak station half a mile that way. According to Gladiola, the westbound train leaves at noon."