When Percy had left Camp Half-Blood, he didn't really know where to go. He supposed he could always try New Rome, but something told him that if he tried, he would just be kicked out as well.
He had filled a duffle bag with some clothes, some weapons, and some drachma. With little to none mortal money, he knew that he couldn't go back to the mortal world, unless he wanted to live on the filthy streets of New York. He instead decided that he would try his hand at living in the forests, just like Artemis did with her hunters.
Which is how Percy found himself crouched behind a bush, wielding a dagger, watching a deer sip peacefully from a river. He started taking small steps forward, taking care not to step on any branches or leaves. He paused just behind the animal, hovering slightly above the ground. He tensed his legs, and leapt forward, grabbing its head, and slicing deep into the neck, deep enough that he knew the deer would die a painless death.
The deer slumped over, eyes already closed, and Percy kneeled on the ground. He placed one hand on the deer's warm body, his fingers delving into the soft fur, and he prayed.
Since he first dived into the forest, learning how to hunt, how to survive, he prayed to Artemis. He wasn't even sure how she felt about him anymore, but he strived to be like her and her hunters. He walked the Earth with respect for nature, for the animals that feed him, and for the way of life that she lives.
After he was done praying, he hoisted the deer up, and placed the animal across his shoulders. It was quite a bit of a walk back to where he had been camping for a few days, with a tent that he stole from a store before he officially left humanity for a while. He may have stolen a few other necessary things to live, but he didn't even have it in him anymore to feel guilty about it.
Carefully, and methodically, he took the deer apart with his knife. Gently, he carved the dagger around the pelt, separating it from the rest of the animal. He worked slowly, losing track of time as he dedicated himself to his task. He liked to use every part of the animal he could, leaving nothing to waste. He set the pelt aside, as he planned on making clothes out of it later. It was already October, and the winter months could be brutal.
With the sun on the verge of setting, he got to work starting a fire. He had nabbed some flint and steel from a store, and clashed them together. Sparks flew past his face, and eventually the collection of twigs and kindles he put together lit on fire. He also stuck a few large sticks he had gathered into the ground on opposite sides of his campfire. With his stomach rumbling, he was ready to start cooking some of the meat he hunted today. The rest of it was stored in a small cooler inside his tent. With plenty of water around him, it wasn't hard to turn it into ice, keeping the meat from going bad.
He relaxed against a large log he had found, his bedroll nearby, still tightly rolled, his tent packed at the bottom of his bag. He only really used the tiny one-man tent he had if it rained, as he liked to sleep under the stars. Although the rain wouldn't bother him, as he could keep himself dry, it did give him a rush of energy that prevented him from sleeping. Plus, he liked to keep his things from getting wet.
Out here, he was all alone. He hadn't used his voice in a few days now, although he supposed it wasn't that much different from when he was at camp, often going days without speaking to another camper. Here, he was usually always busy, working with his hands, doing something, except for times like right now, at night, where his mind and body rested.
He supposed he felt a little better being in the woods, by himself, than when he was living at camp. Sometimes, it was a little hard to ignore the voices in his mind that whispered for him to just give up. Stop trying to survive. Die of hunger, dehydration, a bear attack, a monster, something. As the days went on though, he got a tiny bit better at ignoring that voice though.
He found a little bit of purpose out here. A purpose for himself, instead of somebody else. Out here, the air was fresh, the stars twinkled brightly, and he felt alive. If he were female, he would've quite liked to join the Hunters of Artemis. Living like this felt right.
Long after the flames of his campfire died out, the stars shone brightly above him, and his belly full of fresh deer meat, he laid down, and fell asleep to the sounds of the crickets.
Percy was startled awake by the sounds of twigs snapping, and leaves crinkling. Instantly, he hopped to his feet, and grabbed his sword in pen form out of his pocket. He crouched low to the ground, straining to hear. A couple of seconds passed before he heard another sound.
Staying low to the ground, he moved forward, gripping his pen tightly in his right hand. He paused every so often to listen to whatever was traversing through the forest. Finally, he spotted something hidden within the trees and low-hanging branches. It was an empousa. She went by the name of Tammi, if Percy remembered correctly, remembering their first encounter a few years ago.
Her back was towards him, as she was limping forward with her one prosthetic, and one donkey leg. She seemed to be muttering to herself, but most importantly, was alone. Percy kept his sword in pen form, knowing the sound of it unsheathing would alert her. A little quicker now, he stepped forward, being careful to avoid the leaves and twigs on the ground, much like last night while he was hunting his prey.
As he was mere feet from her back, he tensed his legs and leapt towards her, flicking the cap off of his pen. He intended to slit her throat before she even realized what was happening, yet she reacted a little faster than he thought she would.
Tammi let out a high-pitched scream, and ducked down to the ground before Riptide could come close to her neck. Percy sailed over her, but dropped into a roll, before getting to his feet, and spinning around on his toes to face her.
He watched as her eyes widened in surprise, and he felt something good when he noticed there was fear in there too. Then, her blood red eyes narrowed, and she hissed out his full name.
Remembering all too well her capability of charmspeak, he darted forward and stuck Riptide straight into her midsection before she could speak. She let out a tiny gasp of pain before she disappeared into golden dust. He took a step back as he watched the wind carry some of it away.
He let the tip of Riptide rest in the dirt, and he frowned. That felt a little… easy. Too easy, in fact. He barely got to stretch his muscles, swing his sword, before she was just gone. Back in Tartarus.
He sighed as he slowly started the trek back to his campsite. He missed the thrill of fighting, the adrenaline rush he got when he had to duck and dodge. Fighting was the way he trained. Sure, it might be a little bit worrying that he wanted to fight, to bleed, to be in danger. He shook his head as he arrived at his site. For a demigod, it was perfectly normal to miss fighting.
Percy plopped himself in front of what used to be a fire, and grabbed some deer bones from the pile that he had carefully crafted last night. He leaned against the same log, and grabbed his knife. He let himself delve into his task, and tune the world out from his mind.
He liked to get creative with what he could make as he whittled the bones down with his knife. He paused in the middle of a knife he was making as an idea struck him. He quickly finished the knife, before grabbing a large rib, and a bit of sinew. He carved into the bone with his knife, letting his hands take over as he attached the sinew tight over the end of the ribs.
He turned the rib over in his hands, and tilted his head at the rudimentary bow he crafted. He was gods awful at the bow, he knew. However, he knew that hunting and living in the woods would be a lot easier if he could practice the bow.
Percy admired his work for a second, before he started carving small, intricate designs into the belly of the bow, and creating a place for him to notch an arrow.
He set it down next to him, and grabbed another handful of small deer bones. After ten minutes, he had a small collection of arrowheads that he fastened to whittled sticks he had found nearby.
Smiling to himself, he placed his knife down beside him, stretching out his legs, and raising his arms to the sky, hearing his joints pop and crackle.
He rose to his feet. It was time for him to pack all of his things away, and get moving.