chapter 7

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[act one; chapter seven     -     weightless chamber of nothing] 













    They were all pretty miserable that night.

    They 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. The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast-food wrappers, cigarette butts and more gross stuff.

    They'd taken some food and blankets from Medusa's, but didn't dare light a fire to dry their damp clothes. Percy had gone to start a fire, but Andromeda had gripped his wrist and shook her head, saying, "Not a good idea." So they didn't.

    After the decision to sleep in shifts, Percy had opted to take first watch. He found himself leaning against the base of a tree, head tipped back just slightly, a blanket drawn over his legs.

    Annabeth curled up on the blankets and was snoring as soon as her head hit the ground, while Grover fluttered with his flying shoes to a tree, put his back to the trunk, and stared at the night sky. Anyone could tell he was unable to sleep, unable to let his eyes close and his mind go blank. Whether it be from anxiety or fear, or something of a mix, his eyes remained wide open.

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

    Grover nodded, but still didn't close his eyes. He gazed up at the sky, small tears pooling in his dark eyes, reflecting the marks of the stars above them. "It makes me sad, Percy."

    "What does? The fact that you signed up for this stupid quest?"

    "No. This makes me sad." He pointed at all the garbage on the ground, then at the sky, almost constantly under a slight cover of fog. "And the sky. You can't even see the stars. They've polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr."

    "Oh, yeah. I guess you'd be an environmentalist."

    He glared at the boy, his brows furrowed and his lips tugged downward. "Only a human wouldn't be. Your species is clogging up the world so fast...ah, never mind. It's useless to lecture a human. At the rate things are going, I'll never find Pan."

    "Pam? Like the cooking spray?"

    "Pan!" He cried indignantly, arms raised. "P-A-N. The great god Pan! What do you think I want a searcher's license for?"

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