The Pirate of Greece

Chapter XXI (Annabeth)

Annabeth woke with a pounding in her head. A consistent rhythm hammering away at her skull, which if continued, would surely drive her mad. She groaned and blindly brought a hand to the side of her head, faintly aware of some cloth material sliding off her arm. It was this detail that made her stop, frown, and forcibly pry open her eyes, finally becoming semi-aware of her surroundings.

The object Annabeth lay upon was soft- obviously a bed of sorts judging by the thin blanket draped across her body. She was positioned on the floor at the back of a silver tent, the opening sealed shut by what appeared to be threaded rope. Yet other than a discarded bucket and herself, she couldn't discern any other item in her proximity, therefore, giving away no clues as to just where she was.

Annabeth winced as she clumsily pulled herself into a sitting position. But a sudden stab of pain ran through her body as she pressed weight onto her right arm, making her bite back a curse.
Annabeth looked down at where the pain came from, spying bandages wrapped around a wound.

An arrows whistle cut through the air.

The horrific feeling of metal cutting skin and lodging there.

A sickly, nauseous feeling coming over her body.

"Annabeth!"

A moment of dread overcame the daughter of Athena as she tentatively touched the bandages with her free hand.

Percy! Where's Percy?

The green eyed boy was right beside her. She remembered pushing him out of the way of the arrow's path. She could faintly recall the way he stood protectively over her, brandishing Riptide menacingly. Everything after that was swiped from her memory or her mind had difficulty trying to piece together images. But one thing was certain. He wasn't with her here. She couldn't lose him! Not now!

The sound of boots against gravel alerted Annabeth to the entrance of the tent. She scooted closer to the bucket so that it was just in arms reach, ready to use it as a weapon if need be. A quick mental check of herself already told her she had nothing but garments on, and her dagger was nowhere to be found (which annoyed her to no end).

Black silhouettes slowly formed on the material of the tent, muffled voices drawing nearer. Even with the weak barrier between her and the approaching people, it was quite obvious that they were female judging by their shadow's shape, and their voices became ever so clearer.

"Why do I have to?" Annabeth heard one say.

"Because," another girl started, "the last guard attempted to kill them."

The daughter of Athena raised an eyebrow at this.

The first person spoke again. "What makes you think I won't?"

"You're already on a fine line."

She waited for more conversation to break out, but all the reply was, was a long sigh and heavy footsteps retreating back in the direction they came from. Annabeth couldn't think much on their words, especially since the second arrival's hand appeared on the flaps of the tent.

She steeled herself, grabbing for the wood of the bucket and holding onto it tightly. If she had to, she'd swing it the first opportunity she got.

Light blinded her as the tent's entrance was pulled aside, forcing her to squint. Her view became distorted as she tried adjusting to the drastic change of light, especially after just waking up. Annabeth instinctively went to block the sun's rays from her eyes with her free hand, but that hand was where her wounded arm was, and as soon as she lifted it an immense, painful throbbing began. She couldn't bite back the string of curses that came next.