I'd like to tell you what happened on our journey to camp, but the truth is; I don't remember it.

I woke up surrounded by vibrant grass and looming trees, in the middle of the forest floor. It sounded as if the trees themselves were speaking, or whispering.

I stood but struggled to regain my balance. A sharp pain shot through my ankle and I grasped it in a fist, shouting the occasional profanity.

Nothing seemed familiar here. I was confused why I was in pain. Why the plants had voices. Even the sky looked different. It was blue, but the clouds surrounding the forest seemed to stop abruptly at an invisible edge. Like a barrier was in place, stopping the weather from reaching me.

My confusion didn't last for long when I was interrupted by a pitchy voice. It almost sounded familiar.

"There you are!"

I faced the location of the voice. A boy stood there, smiling as if he knew me.

"We've been looking everywhere for you," he said.

Something bothered me. Like I should know him too, but I didn't.

I asked the first question that came into my mind.

"Who are you?"

His friendly smile sunk into an uneasy frown. "What did you say?"

"Who are you?" I repeated.

"Oh no," he answered. "This isn't good."

I stared at him, as did he with me. His freckly face barely showed through his hanging, red hair. He looked around 12 years old, whilst reaching 5"10 easily. Two pointy stubs were placed atop his head. But none of that confused me.

I was confused when my eyes panned to the boys legs. The entirety of them were covered in a mousy brown hair—no—fur. Where his feet should have been rested two hooves.

Looking back, for the sake of my ankle, I shouldn't have ran immediately. But that's what I did. I sprinted away from the child, wondering what the hell he could have been.

"Wait!" He shouted.

That was my first mistake. I felt sharp, concise pain shooting through my bones. The whispering trees distorted my vision, but I kept going.

My second mistake was thinking I could've outrun him. The kid caught up to me too quickly, with the sound of trotting against the dirt. "Hey, wait up," he said.

I ignored him and kept trying to run.

I passed a tree that, to any random passer, looked exactly like all the other trees in the forest, but this one was different. It led to an open grove with a patch of dry grass in the centre, as if one had taken away something that sat there for years.

The soft lull of the trees turned into shouting. I knew that I wasn't supposed to be there, but I tried passing through, though the act of trying didn't help me much when my ankle failed me altogether. It felt like I tripped on a branch and I fell right onto my face.

"Ouch," the child said, his voice echoing through the grove.

I huffed. Not in pain, not in discomfort, but as the realisation that running wasn't going to help sunk in.

"Need a hand?"

I didn't look at the boy, but I could tell his hand was outstretched.

I grunted and got up myself. "Are you going to answer my question now?"

"Twig," he said. "We've met already but.." he hesitated. "Something must've gone wrong."

Oh, I thought. My memories were jumbled again. Great. Although I didn't tell him that.

"I can see by your expression that you have a lot of questions. Most of them Piper and I have already answered, but something tells me you don't remember what we told you."

I nodded. "Care to elaborate?"

"Not here," he explained. "We shouldn't be in the forest. Especially at this time, the sun is almost about to set." He knelt down to examine my foot. "It's broken. You shouldn't have run off."

"You have sheep legs," I replied.

"Goat," he corrected me. "I'm a satyr, and satyrs have goat legs."

Like thats any better, I thought to myself.

"Here," he opened a small pouch strung to his shoulder and handed me a small cube. "I could be killing you by making you eat this but there's no other way to get you back to camp. You can't walk on it any more than you already have and I'm not strong enough to carry you."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Just—just eat it."

I took the cube from his hand and hesitated to put it in my mouth. He looked at me as if he was waiting for me to drop dead as soon as I swallowed the food. Something urged me to do as he said, so I did.

"It tastes like my fathers homemade crackers," I said. I had always yelled at him that he puts way too much butter into the recipe, but secretly, it comforted me. "How did you get it to taste just like it?"

"Well, that's the confirmation I needed," Twig said.

I couldn't feel the pain in my ankle any more. It was like the pain didn't even exist.

"Confirmation?" I asked.

"Piper was right," he replied. "You're a demi-god."

Quite frankly I didn't believe a word he said, but that didn't stop Twig from explaining it all again. His hands were occupied, playing a funny looking set of wooden pipes in between explanations.

It sort of went "gods and monsters are real—musical number—titan army and gaias rise—another number—the names percy, chiron and annabeth popped up—even more music."

I didn't like it. We'd barely made it out of the forest so the trees were already messing with my head. The more noise Twig made, the less I wanted to listen.

"—and then Piper found Irene and yourself. Does that about cover it?"

I grunted as if I was actually paying attention.

"Daryl, I'm serious," he prodded, stopping at the edge of the clearing. "We're going to have to tell Chiron about your memory. Maybe he'll know what to do—"

"No, it's fine," I answered. "Happens a lot. I'll remember soon." I stared ahead of us towards a field of ripe strawberries. Columns of quartz, stone and other materials lined its horizon. "Is that it? Is that the camp?"

"It's my home," Twig explained. "Come, the campers are waiting for your return."

"Return?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah..." he replied, solemnly. "About that—"

"Daryl!" A familiar female came into view just outside of the forest. "I was so worried about you."

Twig intercepted. "I don't think now's a good time. He may not remem—"

I recognised her instantly. Of course I would recognise my best friend. I threw myself into Irene's arms, her hair still smelling of charcoal. "It's so good to see a friendly face."

She looked sad, but also like she needed to tell me something. "Daryl—"

I turned to Twig for recognition, but still kept my mischievous smirk. "What's wrong? Didn't miss me too much, I hope."

"I'll let you tell him," Twig said, leaving us to talk.

"What's happened?"

"I did miss you," she said. "But that's part of the problem."

I tried meeting her eyes, but she averted them.

"How long—oh," I realised. I turned to face the forest. "How long was I in there? A few hours?"

"Days." She met my eyes reluctantly. "Daryl, you've been gone for two days."