The Unknown Allegiance

| Chapter 7 || Held in Captivity |

Chapter Seven

Held in Captivity

*Third Person Point of View*

Percy's hair stood on end. He was supposed to fight that beast? Without a sword? Without armour? Without anything but he wit and his ever-changing luck? That didn't sit well with him.

He swallowed, trying to force the bad taste down past the large lump in his throat. He knew that his hands were shaking - trembling actually - but as hard as he tried, he couldn't stop them from doing so.

Kóliro snarled. He looked ready to spill blood. His claws scraped desperately at the soil, hackles raised and teeth glaring between his black lips. With each exhalation, his breath hovered in the air before dissipating, snot flying from his nose and into the dirt.

Percy stepped back. His knees felt like Jell-O. His arms hung uselessly at his sides.

The crowd was chanting, the roar growing louder and louder. "Kóliro! Kóliro! Kóliro!"

Every once in a while, a stay voice shouted, "Rip 'im to shreds!" and Percy knew that they weren't talking to him.

Just then, when he thought it couldn't get any worse, his opponent stepped forwards. He was getting tired of waiting, it seemed. A snarl resonated from deep in his throat, clawing out past his overlapping teeth. Thunderous vibrations rippled through Percy's entire body as Kóliro walked closer, each step sending him into the air.

"Okay... It'll be okay. Just a fight, right? All I have to do is win and I'll be home free..." he muttered to himself, his voice breathy and high-pitched. In his fright it had jumped several octaves, reaching a sound that Percy didn't even know he could make.

Suddenly, he was shoved from behind. Cold metal was pressed into his hand. "Here," the gruff voice of his jailer said, "So it's fair."

Percy looked down at his hand. He'd been given a sword. A small sword - a harpe, maybe. It didn't look like it could cut very deep into the giant beast's flesh, but hopefully, he'd be able to stick it somewhere painful.

"Thanks," he told the cyclops. It came out scratchy, for his throat was still dry, but it was just loud enough for the jailer to hear. Percy heard only a grunt in return.

"Let's get this over with," Percy said to himself after wetting his lips. He began to advance towards the creature. His pace soon turned to a light jog, his feet sending dirt up into the air with each step.

Everything seemed to slow down as he approached the halfway point of the arena. The cheers died down in his ears. The dust particles seemed to move in slow motion. As he stared up at the gaping maw of his opponent, he could hear each breath shooting out through the beast's nose, deep and slow.

This is exactly where his body acted on its on, dipping into Percy's reservoir of moves and acting accordingly. He leaped, dodging the beast's monstrous claws. The long black talons cut cleanly through the air next to his face. He could hear the whoosh of air in his ears.

"That was a close one," he whispered. His voice was breathy already from the fight.

Just then, an idea formed in the forefront of his brain. A bad idea. A really bad idea. He nearly cursed. It was one of the ideas he used to get that would always make Annabeth slap him upside the head, but it was all he had.

He grabbed a handful of Kóliro's fur the next time his paw got close.

Percy was surprised. Kóliro's fur was actually very fluffy. And it was soft, too. So soft...