The Thief // pjo

Chapter Three // Poodle Therapy and Bad Dreams

    I had only been camping once, and this was a thousand times worse than that time.

    Not only did we not have a fire or light in general and only a few blankets from Aunty Em's with some junk food we found, but the campsite we stopped at was littered with soggy fast food wrappers and crushed soda cans.

    Annabeth was out the moment she laid down on her blankets and was snoring softly to my right.

    I was wrapped in my own couple of blankets, eyes watching everything that seemed to move or shift in the dark around us.

    My mind was swirling with everything Annabeth, Percy, and Grover told me about their quest.

    They began with what Camp Half-Blood was, how Percy got there, and everything from the point where they got the quest and how they were trying to get to the entrance of the Underworld to confront the god of Death while also looking for Percy's mom.

    There was something about a lightning bolt being stolen and Zeus or whatever, blaming it on Percy, who did not have it but still being convinced it was him.

    But they had to go to the Underworld, demand for Hades to give the bolt back, and then take it back to Olympus...

    No pressure, right?

    I think the way Annabeth told it was a little more detailed and stressful than it was supposed to sound. Still, I could not help but fidget in my spot, mulling over the fact that they were actually going to Hell.

    Goodness gracious...

    I heard the gentle fluttering of Grover's magic flying shoes, ones that he told me were from a friend at Camp Half-Blood, before Percy said quietly to my left, "Go ahead and sleep. I'll wake you if there's trouble."

    Grover had a delayed reaction, and I could vaguely see him nod in the dim light as he said, "It makes me sad, Percy."

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

    "No. This makes me sad." Grover gently kicked a can close in his vicinity. "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."

    I rolled my eyes at that comment, Percy, what the heck?

    Grover sounded hopeless as he continued, "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."

    Before I could shut him up, Percy asked, "Pam? Like the cooking spray?"

    "Percy," I sighed tiredly.

    "What?!" He exclaimed.

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

    I wanted to ask him what a searcher's license was and instead said, "Tell us about the search."

    Grover looked at me in the dark, his brows raised as he slowly started, "The God of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago. A sailor off the coast of Ephesos heard a mysterious voice crying out from the shore, 'Tell them that the great god Pan has died!' When humans heard the news, they believed it. They've been pillaging Pan's kingdom ever since. But for the satyrs, Pan was our lord and master. He protected us and the wild places of the earth. We refuse to believe that he died. In every generation, the bravest satyrs pledge their lives to find Pan. They search the earth, exploring all the wildest places, hoping to find where he is hidden, and wake him from his sleep."