Artemis, in what memory she held of the time before the Pit, never liked New York City. The concrete and filth laden streets were obviously not a domain of hers, and even Central Park was a laughable fringe of nature.

That had not changed with sudden and terrifying mortality, no her very being still despised such distance from isolation.

Facing monsters Artemis had never hunted, when she was armed with naught but a tree branch, did little to assuade her.

"It would seem that our presence has disrupted the nature of this time." 'Perseus', as he had taken to calling himself, seemed entirely uncaring or unaware of her struggle, "I believe this creature is a… Rougarou?"

"Why do I not know about it?" Artemis asked desperately, swatting hungry jaws away with a loose branch, "Why have I never seen it?"

"Well, not only did this creature not exist when the Flame moved to America," She opened her mouth to respond, but the creature lunged, and she shoved the end of the stick into its mouth with a yelp, "At least, it hadn't. The Spaniards had wiped them out long before the English arrived. It would seem time has changed substantially since I was relieved of my post."

A claw opened a hole across the front of her oversized shirt, drawing a thin burning line across her belly. The shorts threatened to fall, and she broke the engagement to save her modesty.

"I believe you will find that certain things are now gone from your memory. Without the benefit of your domains, things you would not already know from your life will not remain."

Artemis finally got her chance, catching the canine head with the knotted wood and sending the beast to the earth. The snapped end found the Rougarou's neck first, leaving the beast scrabbling at the dirt in its slow death throes. She reeled away, wiping the blood that flecked across her cheeks off with her sleeve.

Thankfully, though it exposed a far too immodest sliver of her midriff, the cut made was little more than a thin, stinging line. A wound that would have disemboweled her had Tyche not shown favor. Certain she was not in peril, she whirled on her 'guide'.

"What in Hades is wrong with you?" She snapped. It was annoying enough that he did nothing to help her, rubbing her face in everything she lost did him no favors.

He opened his mouth to respond, but remained silent, bringing a hand up to cradle his chin. His lips opened and closed repeatedly, more like he couldn't decide what to say as opposed to anything else.

"We need to keep moving," She sighed, grabbing his wrist and yanking him back on track. Nothing she could say would break his weird little 'headspace' when he tried to answer a question she had no expectation of him answering. Unfortunately, dragging him around by the arm was the next best option.

They hadn't gone far, just barely through Central Park, before the 'Rougarou' attacked. Hopefully that wasn't more than a coincidence, that within minutes they were attacked by a new monster. Artemis wouldn't hold her breath.

Beyond that, well, at least Olympus looked the same. A towering, glowing kingdom that hung over the Empire State Building in miraculous opulence. She almost wanted to run straight to it, itched to see her family again, but refrained. She would not be welcome, by any means.

"Is there another me?" She asked before she could consider it. Would there be another Artemis? An imposter? Would it be a different being entirely, with a different name?

"Another you? No." He answered easily, "Another Artemis? Yes. I could not say whether she will be similar to you, you will have had far more experience than her, and the effect we appear to have had on this time may have changed more than we will ever know."

What she wanted to hear? She wasn't sure. A satisfactory answer, of which she was never sure he would provide? She could only be glad it wasn't some cryptic 'yes but no' answer.

But… at least there was someone for her girls. Maybe she could join them, after all this, get some of what she'd lost back.

The thought was simultaneously appealing and painful, getting her 'life' back but knowing her girls would never answer to her again. Would only answer to the other.

They carefully weaved through the crowd, the hand not wrapped around his wrist keeping the loose shorts from falling around her ankles. The last thing she needed was another thing for these males to ogle.

With Tyche's blessing, they were uninterrupted by monster or mortal in their steady march through the city. No one seemed to care that two 'children' in ill-fitting clothes rushed through the streets. Perhaps that was normal, among mortals- she would not remain among them long enough to find out.

Still, they were covering ground far too slowly for her comfort, and remained an easy target all the while. Another rougarou, or something of her own pantheon, or Hades forbid something new, could be sitting in wait around the next corner. She needed something faster, a better transport.

Faster took the form of a large, blocky Greyhound bus. With a bit of Mist manipulation (and thank everything she could that that had remained with her), they were moving. Actually moving, though even the current pace was far too slow for her. 'Traffic' was the bane of speed, and thus the bane of Artemis, for today.

Perseus, now free of the duty of walking, remained all but plastered to the window. In the few, stilted words they'd shared, he never turned to face her. Upon closer examination, she was fairly certain he hadn't blinked.

The seemingly infinite suburbs they passed displayed wealth in some, poverty in more, and space to breathe in none. It was a pathetic display, akin to the nesting of rats. Dozens, even hundreds writhing and twisting and piling atop one another in such a mass it would be impossible to differentiate, much less separate, one from the next. Had Prometheus given them tails, Artemis was certain the ensuing tangle of corpses would already be naught but bones.

It was truly a vulgarity of a thing, sitting atop the bones of a magnanimous and glorious wilderness. And it kept going.

Despite herself, knowing of the results before she made the attempt, she reached for domains of which only one had truly existed for the last… 'segment' of her existence.

The moon felt as far as the mortals claimed it. Distant, cold and unwavering. Unresponsive. Especially to the command of some mortal. The thought made her hands quake against her thighs before she curled them into tight fists. On to the next.

Childbirth offered not even a hint of a feeling, as did maidenhood, oddly enough. The former had no ties to her at the moment, true, but she had not broken the latter. Domains she was not quite so heartbroken to lose- though she'd appreciate any power she could hold and the mortality she had been forced into stung more than she'd admit- and simply another she'd rather not think about long enough to miss. In comparison to the moon above, it was little.

The Wild, the plants and animals and all that made it, were far worse. She could actually feel it, like smoke on the wind, a distant memory of what was that still choked with nostalgia. She could feel it, but as the breeze, or the sun's heat, she could not touch it.

Her throat tightened, sorrow wrapping about her neck as a noose. The tears burned her eyes, blurred the world around her into kaleidoscopic black and white and green and brown. She couldn't breathe.

The air, what had been cold and crisp, grew stagnant, burning in her lungs. It wasn't New York, nor the face of Gaea. The fetid, stifling air came only from the Pit, could only come from it.

"They are not beyond you."

As quickly as it had left, the cool air returned. Perseus' words were a metaphorical bucket of cold water, forcing her consciousness to the fore.

No heat, air that smelled only of the vehicle itself, standing homes and patches of greenery. No, it had worked, it was real, she'd gone back through the river of time itself. She had a second chance- would likely not even live to see her success or failure. She would not be left to the Pit again.

"There are things engrained upon the soul, usually a biproduct of high doses of magic and power." Artemis whipped to face Perseus, though his eyes remained on the passing buildings. Still, the edge of his expression showed a certain empathy, almost. His features soft, contemplative but pitying, "I give no guarantee, and certain domains may remain entirely from your reach, but with time I suspect you shall be capable of reaching a select few once more."

Artemis struggled for a response for but a moment before deciding upon no response at all. What was there to say?

The entire bus jolted, coming to a violent, juddering halt in the span of moments. Thankfully she had not left her seat, which saved her from kissing the floor but not from the seat back. Another blessing, aforementioned seat was covered in cheap cloth and plastic that kept her from splitting her skull open.

Perseus was already on his feet, drifting closer to the front curiously. Like an idiot. Whatever had stopped the bus was towards that end, likely a trap, and likely to burst into the cabin in an attempt to make Artemis its lunch.

She scrambled to catch up to him and hooked his shirt in a fist, almost losing her shorts before the presence of mind came about to save them from a trip to the floor.

"What are you doing!"

"Something stopped the bus." He ignored the pointed hiss of her tone, continuing forward and pulling her after him. Were she not convinced he'd start stripping if she held him back by his clothes, she'd have attempted to restrain him.

"I had no idea, you dolt! That doesn't mean you walk right into the trap!"

"There is no telling that it is a trap for certain. There are many possibilities for such an incident. Such an example, right here, has nothing to do with an ambush."

It was a tree branch, the bulk of it splayed across the road, far too large for the bus to get over. The end that had attached to the tree was splintered, pocked with signs of beetles and rot. Her eyes shot from it, to the green leaves that lined the smaller twigs and offshoots. Unease scuttled across the nape of her neck.

"Likely a biproduct of divine temper, especially within the time we find ourselves." He offered conversationally, "On foot we go. Surely it is not far to this Camp you spoke of?"

He walked as though he knew exactly where he was headed, gone from the bus before Artemis could stop him.

"… The time we find ourselves?"

"Of course." She was behind, both literally and informatively, and he didn't slow a beat to let her catch up, "Poseidon and Zeus have been feuding, by my understanding. An offshoot of destiny that I had been made privy to, once, that came to a fruition, after a kind. Something about a lost child and missing weapon, if I do recall."

Lost child, missing weapon? A- what did the mortals call it?- Deja vu stuck thick enough to the back of her teeth she could almost taste it. She had seen this before, certainly. Of course she had, this was the past, not a different existence, but where? More importantly, when?

The last time a god had lost a weapon had been at the cusp of everything falling apart. Hades, the first to lose himself, as could be expected. Artemis could still recall the frantic search, crossing the surface of Gaea, target shifting from the Helm to Hermes to Aphrodite. Scrambling as the pantheon fell to pieces.

That, she could remember.

Before that, before that awful night and all that followed, there had been another incident hadn't there? Someone besides Ares- that oaf couldn't seem to keep track of anything- had lost a weapon. Not Athena. Not Demeter. Not Apollo…

Zeus!

It had felt as aeons, must have been by this point, since it had taken place. The second rising of the Crooked One, holding the sky, the Giants, Gaea. The start of it all, the beginning of the end. They had gone back to before that?

Her legs had carried her as her thoughts had enraptured her, sandals clicking every step in pursuit of Perseus. It almost felt like every step of his was worth two of hers, and the speed forced her into a half-jog.

That was admittedly quite a bit to think about, and more to recall. The former inevitably led to the latter, which was remarkably difficult through the haze of time. She'd hardly had that trouble before, at least as long as she could remember.

Her memory had been excellent before- as was to be expected of any half decent goddess- had mortality changed that? Maybe all the time running had? Maybe it had been intervention by the Fates themselves.

It was quiet, far too quiet for the thickening woods that announced departure from those dreaded homes piled atop eachother. The birds did not sing, the squirrels did not chirp, even the trees seemed to resist swaying in the breeze.

Something was wrong.

Her eyes scanned the forest around them, never lingering for more than a moment in search of the disturbance. The lack of any movement only fueled her suspicions, and dread prickled the hair at her nape.

"We are being watched." She warned, with a low, measured tone. Her fingers dug into the skin of his wrist, though he didn't react.

"Oh?" The idiot twisted, looking to the trees with telegraphed, predictable movements. She yanked on his arm, nigh toppling him and bringing his focus forward.

"What is it? Another Roo- Rou-"

"Rougarou?" He interrupted, "Unlikely. They aren't the brightest of creatures, with prey out in the open and alone one would have attacked by now."

"Then what is after us?" She hissed. The wind shifted, a gust pulled at their clothes, almost urging them forward. Away from what it was that lingered behind.

For the first time, the homunculus that had become her companion stiffened. Eyes full of wonder hardened, stony and, dare she say it, warlike.

"How far is your Camp?"

"What is it?"

"Something which does not belong. Your camp, Artemis."

"To the northwest."

In an instant, their positions switched. His hand clamped on her wrist as a vice, sending her stumbling behind with the speed and suddenness of his pace. Even without her feet properly beneath her, she scanned the forest behind.

His words made the dread coiling in her belly lash out against her lungs, stalling the next breath. 'Something which does not belong' sounded a Hades lot like what he'd said in Tartarus, in reference to her clothes. They would not be chased by a ragged chiton.

It couldn't be, not the Hunter. Not the one that had been chasing her, he couldn't follow her through time, surely. Surely Chronos would have another guardian at hand the very instant he sent the previous off. Surely he wouldn't even allow that abomination to cross over after her.

They parted from the road with the next turn it made, covering the ground as the crow flew and with not even half the grace. The wind whipped harsher, and she finally caught but a whiff of what had likely caught Perseus' attention.

Artemis had faced plenty of scents in her existence, more than a few less than pleasant. This one though, was new.

Thick with rot, blood and organs and some sulfurous thing that sent her mind screaming for its wrongness and stomach turning in rejection of the very air itself. A saccharine, sour and decaying smell that clung to her sinuses and tongue.

She gagged, a primal instinct as opposed to sheer revulsion. A bitterly mortal gesture- gods need not fear the diseases of carrion, and their vessels did not react as such. It did naught to relieve the nausea building in her belly.

"Steel yourself, Diana." Perseus' voice came firm and calm, irritatingly unaffected by both pace and smell, "We have no time to waste. Are there any rivers along our path? Any running waters?"

"Diana?" Her name came forth from breathless lips. Rather, one of her names. Centuries of running, and this was all she had to show for it? The flame in her lungs, the pain in her legs, even a growing pang of hunger.

"There will be a time for your proper name, but our arrival unto this camp is not yet it. For now, Diana."

Sound logic, and still irritating. The forest hummed, though there was neither soothing nor familiarity that came with it. Animals chittered, screeched and scattered, having sensed the wrongness of the presence behind and alerting everything on the face of Gaea in one. She'd understand it, something in her chest moved as a caged animal searching for a frantic escape.

"Running water, Diana!" Perseus ordered.

The smell grew impossibly stronger, despite the pace Perseus set for them. A panic electrified her bones, and though it spurred her faster nothing would make her limbs comply.

"Ahead, damn you. Further ahead!"

He offered no other response, and the dogged pace kept on. Over roots, between trees, through underbrush, never given the chance to slow with the alternative of being half-dragged across the forest floor.

As she remembered, and said, running water lie across the middle of their path. A small brook, hardly even wider across than a splayed palm.

All at once, as though commanded by a great maestro, the forest fell silent. She almost missed it, with the thrumming of her pulse in her ears, but there was no missing the warning of age old instinct, or the unstoppable dry-heave the foul odor earned.

Perseus dropped her hand, then to a knee beside the brook, watching the forest beyond far too calmly.

"Keep running, Diana. It is not me he is after, though I suspect he follows my scent."

"Are you mad?" She hissed. Whatever his reason, Hades knew she'd never guess it, running through the woods as a frightened hare was not how she wanted to be caught by the Hunter. Then, it wasn't that Perseus would do much of use against the giant, the boy was positively clueless about most everything.

"Not at you." His hand sunk into the water, far deeper than the brook's bed should allow, almost halfway up his forearm, "Get to the camp, behind the barrier. I will join you with haste."

"You expect to do something against him? With what? Your-" Words failed as his hand emerged from the water.

In his hand, glimmering in the patchy light from the canopy, an imperial gold Falcata dripped water.

It looked old, though not primitive. Designs etched across the flat of the blade, dark leather peeking from his grasp, a crossguard curling around the top of the handle and protecting his fingers should he lock blades with an opponent.

Movement on the side of the clearing they'd just left caught her eye, something dark and almost hidden by the foliage. Were the situation any different, were her divinity secure or had Tartarus itself not fallen down around her ears for who knew how long, she may have waited. May have faced off against the Gigante in the woods.

She ran.

This was a path she knew well, one the Hunters had taken ever since the Flame had traveled west. Never had she taken to it with such visceral horror, such fear for her own existence. The echoing clang of blade against blade sounded through the woods behind her, and though some part of her expected it her body jolted with the sound.

Nothing interrupted her until the second marker of a new time appeared through the trees.

Thick, dark towers crafted of logs and tar stood as looming guardians. Just within sight stood two more on opposite sides, evenly spaced. Her eyes landed on the sentries- so similar to Apollo it made her eyes sting- the lower platform on which they stood and the stairwell leading above the canopy.

There should still be a good mile to the camp, by her measure, and there had certainly never been guard towers.

Should she tell them of the Hunter? The truth of it or simply that there was a monster? Surely they wouldn't believe her but-

An arrow thumped into the soil at her feet, a clear warning shot that stalled her progress.

"No further! Entry is to the north, go back to the road and take the proper way in."

"Monster! In the woods!" She cried, only just managing it between breaths.

"Imagine my shock." One deadpanned, earning the snickers of his companions. Stupid boy, "As I said, entry to the north."

"My- my friend! He's being attacked! Please!" Calling Perseus a 'friend' was a stretch, but then again so was calling the Hunter a 'monster'.

"Yeah yeah, blow it up someone else's ass girlie. Not being baited into the woods." Baited into the woods? Were they mad? What world had she fallen into, that demigods were so willing to damn their own? Surely it hadn't been like this in her time.

"What is your problem? We won't make it! Help us!" She snapped. As if mortality wasn't bad enough, as if what shameful condition her endurance was in wasn't bad enough, as though the last half-day hadn't been an unceasing barrage of embarrassments and torments.

"I don't know who the Hades you think you are," The watchman returned with a sneer, "but I'd watch my attitude when it comes to the people you'll be asking for shelter."

"That sounds an awful lot like a threat, Yew."

A familiar, albeit scarred, face descended the stairs leading to the canopy, right into the midst of the suddenly statuesque watchmen, a blonde girl in tow. From the black leather to the spear casually resting in hand, Thalia was a sight for sore eyes.

"Not a threat." 'Yew' blurted, a bit too quick, "We just don't need anyone stomping in like a damned Olympian. I mean, look at her…"

Thunder rumbled, unacknowledged, and Thalia fully faced Artemis below. Her old lieutenant took a long look, giving her the chance to study the scar that stretched from forehead to jawline on the right side of Thalia's face.

For far too long of a moment, no one spoke.

"We don't leave our own to die. Standard procedure, stay close." In a blur of black, Thalia vaulted the half-wall, a gust of wind halting her fall just enough to prevent lasting harm, "Take point with these idiots, Annabeth, and catch up."

A spear extended from her fist, Aegis snapping to full size in her fist. Here, the scar across her cheek was clear, and joined by a myriad of smaller pale patches.

"Your name?"

"A- Diana."

Thalia acknowledged it with a nod, presumably unaware or uncaring of the slip-up.

"Alright then, Diana, lead the way."