Percy Jackson, the Son of Olympus: The Sea of Monsters

| Chapter XVI || Grover and the Sheep of Doom |

*August 28 XXXX*

***

The next morning, Percy was proud to say that – due to his and Annabeth's combined medical knowledge – both Tyson and Artemis were back on their feet, fed, watered, and rested to near-perfect health.

The former pair, however, was tired from the all-nighter that they had to pull, but Percy knew that they would pull through. Besides, he was confident in their ability to take on Polyphemus. For starters, they had an advantage in numbers, and while he was much larger than them, they would be able to sneak around him easily. His sense of smell was acute, but his eyesight – if legends held true – was horrendous.

All they had to do was get in, grab the Fleece, and get out without him noticing them. A piece of cake.

Leaving the rooms below deck, Percy banished the putrid smell from his lungs with a deep breath of the unnaturally sweet air. He gave a long sigh of content.

"The Fleece," Annabeth said from beside him. She, too, was breathing in the sugary scent - like the air was coated with cotton candy.

Percy nodded. "If we take the Fleece, will the island die?" He genuinely wondered. This place, despite its dangerous inhabitants, was beautiful and deserved to remain that way. Even without the Fleece, it should still live, right? He stood there, well and truly believing that it could cure anything, even Thalia's tree, so...would its presence here for so long could keep the plants healthy, even if they took it away?

Annabeth shook her head, causing Percy's spirits to fall. "It'll fade," she said, her voice cold. "Most likely go back to what it was before, or worse. Without the Fleece to keep it this way, the Sea of Monsters' darkness will surely poison it."

"Are we ready to go?" Artemis asked, suddenly appearing from below deck. She hadn't had a spare change of clothes, so she'd done her best to wash them earlier if the remains of water on her sleeves was any indication.

Tyson was peeking through the doorway behind her, a curious, tense look in his cow brown eye. It was obvious that he anticipated meeting Polyphemus but was afraid of facing him at the same time.

"I guess. It's early, so if we keep pace, we should be at the top of the cliffs by lunchtime," Percy said, looking up at the sky.

"Let's just hope that we're not the lunch," Artemis added as a poor attempt at humour.

Percy laughed weakly, but his heart wasn't in it. "Yeah. Let's hope."

Scaling the cliff face wasn't nearly as hard as they'd expected. There were plenty of handholds and footholds, and several large ledges for them to rest along the way. They made it to the top in half the time Percy had predicted, and crouched in the bushes silently, scouting the terrain ahead.

It was a breeding ground for fluff. No kidding. There seemed to be at least a million sheep in the field ahead of them, grazing and baaing and shuffling around on their tiny hooves. Some were even so thick with fluff that they had to waddle to move.

"This seems too easy," Percy muttered as his eyes followed a particularly woolly sheep that stopped to munch on some grass, not three feet from their faces. It didn't even notice him, just kept munching at a green spot.

"There must be a guardian...or something." He just couldn't believe that the sheep were the only things that were guarding the Fleece, which hung aloft in the branches of a tall green tree at the far end of the field. The sheep – despite being the size of hippos – seemed peaceful enough, just milling around in their over-fluffed skins. Seriously – did the cyclops ever shear them?