𐌙/𐌍 Ᏽ𐌵𐌀𐌋𐌄 & 𐌕𐋅𐌄 Ᏽ𐌐𐌄𐌀𐌕 𐌌𐌙𐌕𐋅𐌔 ¹

Chapter 11

11 | Did you know poodles talk?

We were pretty miserable that night.
We camped out in the woods, a hundred yards from the main road, in a marshy clearing that local kids had obvi-ously been using for parties. The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast-food wrappers.

We'd taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's, but we didn't dare light a fire to dry our damp clothes. The Furies and Medusa had provided enough excitement for one day. We didn't want to attract anything else.

We decided to sleep in shifts. Percy volunteered to take first watch.

Annabeth curled up on the blankets and was snoring as soon as her head hit the ground.

I couldn't sleep even if I wanted to, my head was still full of adrenaline and I didn't feel tired at all. So I stayed sat down on a rock, hearing the night creatures and the soft skies waving with air.

Most of the time it's a nice thing to hear sounds and then see a random color, or smelling anything then spotting a shape, and things like that. Being synesthetic means mostly that, experiencing something, and your brain making another sense of your body involunta-rily activate. I've been like that for since most of my life, I can't even remember a moment when I wasn't like that.

Being a dyslexic, synes-thetic, and ADHD kid it's kind of hard when you need to go to school, but I heard that most of my cousins from Apollo's cabin also have synesthesia, so I know I'm not the only one with that. It gives me some comfort ... Even if most of the Apollo kids are how you'd expect, the same playful and loud personalities as their father, which does not at all go with Artemis.

Grover fluttered with his flying shoes to the lowest bough of a tree, put his back to the trunk, and stared at the night sky.

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

Percy's voice had always this strong tint of blue in it, even his breathing does. To be honest, anything that boy does always seems blue to me.

I hummed quietly to agree, but I only looked up into the sky, not pretending to go to sleep anytime soon.

"It makes me sad, Percy," Grover told. His voice had some kind of “fruity” color, like it'd always have a color that would remind me of a fruit. Usually strawberries or apples.

"What does? The fact that you signed up for this stu-pid quest?"

"No. This makes me sad." He pointed at all the garbage on the ground. "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 Percy. "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."

"Pan? Like, a frying pan? Why'd you want a pan?" I questioned.

"No!" Grover said with a swift frown. "Not that kind of Pan!"

"Pam? Like the cooking spray?" Percy shrugged.

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

A weird breeze filled my nose, and a faster pace with the wind, the bland colors and shapes from the smell of garbage or the sound of slow wind, changed to more explosive colors from the smell of berries and wildflowers and clean rain-water,  and the sound of hurrying air.

"Tell me about the search," Percy said.

Grover looked at him cautiously, as if he were afraid Percy was just making fun.