Veronica Sawyer was an iconic name. And so that was what she called herself.
She would've liked to be simple, with the basic life of demigods for a backstory-mortal parent didn't want her, she ended up a year-rounder. But the Fates didn't like Veron...
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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝟖: 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐁𝐞𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐲
December 18, 2007
VERONICA WAS ONE LUCKY GIRL IN PERCY'S OPINION.
Can you imagine riding a giant steel brush over a bed of gravel all day? That's about how comfortable boar-riding was. And Percy couldn't help but watch as Veronica got to avoid it by sleeping on the back of a giant wolf.
At some point, the mountains faded into the distance and were replaced by miles of flat, dry land. The grass and scrub brush got sparser until they were galloping (or whatever it is that boars do) across the desert.
As night fell, the boar came to a stop at a creek bed and snorted. He started drinking the muddy water, then ripped a saguaro cactus out of the ground and chewed it, needles and all.
"This is as far as he'll go," Grover said. "We need to get off while he's eating."
Everyone loved the sound of that. They slipped off the boar's back while he was busy ripping up cacti. Then they all waddled away as best they could with the nightmarish saddle sores they'd been left with.
After its third saguaro and another drink of muddy water, the boar squealed and belched, then whirled around and galloped back toward the east.
Veronica jolted up from the sound of its belch, clinging to the wolf desperately as it let out a growl-bark as the boar left.
"It likes the mountains better," Percy guessed.
"I would, too," Veronica said, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. "Look."
Ahead of the group was a two-lane road half covered with sand. On the other side of the road was a cluster of buildings too small to be a town: a boarded-up house, a taco shop that looked like it hadn't been open for decades, and a white stucco post office with a sign that said GILA CLAW, ARIZONA hanging crooked above the door.
Beyond that was a range of hills... but the countryside was way too flat for normal hills. These hills were enormous mounds of old cars, appliances, and other scrap metal. It was a junkyard that seemed to go on forever.
"Whoa," Percy said.
"Something tells me we're not going to find a car rental here," Thalia said. She looked at Grover. "I don't suppose you got another wild boar up your sleeve?"
Grover was sniffing the wind, looking around nervously. He fished out his acorns and threw them into the sand, then played his pipes. They rearranged themselves in a pattern that made Grover all concerned.
