The Hunt for Life (Fem Percy Guardian of the Hunt)

Chapter Seven

Cloth tore, threads slashed apart by the edge of my sword. Dust billowed around my feet. It gathered on the cloak, and it stung my nose and eyes. The heat beat down on me, but I couldn't stop. I could never stop. My fingers tightened around the sword hilt. He beat me twice. And I know I could've beaten him. Silver flashed. I'd dodged bullets, cut arrows out of air, and yet I couldn't beat him.

Not that it mattered. We escaped, only to have the worst come to pass anyway.

There was a soft tug at my waist, my belt pulling against my hips. My hand snapped around a bony wrist.

"Do you want to explain why you're trying to steal from me?" I asked.

"I'm not stealing, just admiring the workmanship."

"You're a son of Hermes."

"And? Just because my dad's the god of thieves doesn't mean I'm one."

"So that's why your father brags about all his children stealing during the war?" I turned. Really, I didn't know if Hermes said anything about it or not. Regardless, I'd rather have them think their dad was gossiping than have them think about who could know that. "I'm quite well informed about you and your habits, Connor Stoll. If you try to steal any of my belongings, well, I could use something to practice with that can actually move."

Blood drained out of his face, and I tried hard not to let the stone in my chest weigh me down. He stuttered out an apology and hurried away. The stone grew. I exhaled and shook my head. For as much as he's my friend, I can't let him find out. I'm doing this to protect him, everyone, and that won't be possible if he finds out.

My cloak billowed, a gentle breeze catching in the fabric. The hood didn't move; it stayed stuck to my head, obscuring my face with shadows even as the wind buffeted me. I wandered to the beach, unsure of where else to go. And really, it was still my home. It beckoned and called, raising a song in my blood. No one was there to see me, Everyone else had lessons and training going on after all, I was the outcast.

The light blazed and glinted off the rolling water. Waves broke gently onto the shore, spray peppering me. A long inhale of the oh so familiar sea scent and I sat. I sat there admisdt the surf. The edge of my father's realm. With it around me, I was sure he could hear me.

I said, "I don't understand why you want me to do this. It's not like it'll change my mind." Those words were drowned out. They were only audible to the ocean, but that's all I needed. Even if I didn't expect an answer.

Gritty sand embedded under my nails, remnants of what had filled the lines I was drawing. There wasn't rhyme or reason. I wanted to draw. The drawings might've been crude, but they existed. Until a wave washed over them and replaced them with words. I didn't expect a response. Why was I getting one?

Because he was still stuck on this idea of me wanting to live.

I stared at the words carved into the beach until they too were swept away. I stood. Turning swiftly, I headed back into camp. There wasn't a good place to go. Shaking like I was, it would draw attention. Artemis's cabin? Someone would probably come in. The woods? Mrs O'Leary, monsters, and maybe a few concerned dryads. The Big House? Mr D, and that said enough.

My muscle memory argued against those options too. I stepped into the cabin, the constant sea breeze slipping through my clothes. One thought pervaded everything, and it sank into even me: safe.

Soft sniffles broke the silence. "I can't do this," I mumbled. My hands rose before freezing. I sobbed. Tears spilled over, dripping down my face. Eyes screwed shut, I stood still as a statue. A hand fell onto my shoulder, and if possible, I stiffened more. My eyes stayed shut. This wasn't good. Nobody should've been in here. Unless Tyson was here, but Tyson would've hugged me.

"You're okay." Oh. Chiron. I finally wiped my eyes, looking up at him. He smiled, but the expression was betrayed by the tightness of his face. "You are the guardian I was informed of if I'm not mistaken?"

"Yeah. Guardian of the Hunt, that's me. Totally doing some guarding. And uh, sorry, I wasn't- I didn't think anyone else would be in here."

"Percy isn't here, and she will likely not be back for a while, so I wanted to make sure there was nothing in here that would attract ants."

"That's probably a good idea. Uh, do you want help?"

He shook his head. He dropped his hand from my shoulder. "No," said Chiron, "I was actually finishing up. But may I ask why you decided to come in here instead of the Hunt's cabin?"

I rubbed at my arms, soft cloth rubbing hard against my arms with the pressure. His eyes were fixed on me as I shifted my weight from foot to foot. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth; my heart beat in my throat.

"Percy said I could come in here if I needed a break from them. She, uh, she was on Olympus when I was, something about doing a quest and she was trying to get permission from her uncle because she didn't want him freaking out about her sudden disappearance and thinking she betrayed them or something."

Chiron nodded, muttered an excuse to leave, and left. When the door closed behind him, I waited for a moment before moving to my bed. I collapsed, face first. My fingers tangled in my soft blankets, and they dug further until I was grabbing the mattress pad. Wet trails stained my cheeks, although my cries were all but silent. I hiccuped, and that was that. Quiet shattered, sobs burst free.

The atmosphere changed. Weight pressed down on me, no, judgement. Ancient eyes fueled with eons of power were focused on me now. I didn't tense, couldn't afford to. But I sat up slowly. I took a risk and shrugged off the cloak. He's here. My sleeves pushed up around my elbows, the aura vanished.

Well, it didn't vanish, it was...muted.

"Percy," whispered Dad, his voice but a hint on the ocean breeze. The lines littering my arms were enough of a reason. The words, another matter entirely. I didn't know how far I could take this. Not to death. Honestly, I didn't think I'd want to kill myself in front of him. It would be cruel, and heroes aren't supposed to be cruel.

You lost your right to call yourself a hero.

I bit my lip, yanked my dagger free. Pain burned along my skin and blood beaded from the shallow cuts. The bunk across from me creaked. My focus stayed where it was. Again pain blossomed. Hurt, worry, fear, all of those and more stained the air. With an easy motion, I wiped the blade clean. A red-brown smear lingered on my pant leg.

"I know you're here, Dad." I flicked my eyes to where he sat. He popped into view, face pale and hands laced.

"How long have you been doing this?" he asked. My hands drew over the cloak's fabric. "Percy." His voice held an edge now. I blinked, rocked onto my feet, and slipped it on. "Answer me."

"I'd rather not."

"And why not?"

"Because you won't like the answer."

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