tartarus and back ⇩

7. Grover's BFF is a pink poodle.

We were pretty miserable that night.

We camped out in the woods, a hundred yards from the main road, in a marshy clearing that local kids had obviously been using for parties. The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast-food wrappers.

We'd taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's, but we didn't dare light a fire to dry our damp clothes. The Furies and Medusa had provided enough excitement for one day. We didn't want to attract anything else.

We decided to sleep in shifts, and Percy offered first watch.

Annabeth curled up on the blankets and was snoring as soon as her head hit the ground. Grover climbed up to the lowest bough of a tree, put his back to the trunk , and stared at the night sky.

I sat sat down against a tree, brushing my tangled black hair.

"You should go to sleep, Kai." Percy said.

"Nah, I've got a couple questions about this prophecy. What is it again?" I said.

"You shall go west, and face the god who has turned,

You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned,

You shall lose something that is treasured,

You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend,

And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end."

"So the only things we know is that we have to go west and face the lord of the dead and we return the Master Bolt. Great." I said.

Percy nodded. "I wonder what we'll lose."

I shrugged. "Hey Grover, why don't you head to bed? We'll wake you if there's trouble."

He nodded, but still didn't close his eyes. "It makes me sad, you guys."

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

"No. This makes me sad." He pointed at all the garbage on the ground. "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."

He glared at Percy. "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."

"Pam? Like the cooking spray?"

I face palmed.

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

A strange breeze rustled through the clearing, temporarily overpowering the stink of trash and muck. It brought the smell of berries and wildflowers and clean rain-water, things that might've once been in these woods.

"Tell me about the search," Percy said.

"Ooh, yeah. You're my first Satyr friend." I said.

Grover looked at us cautiously, as if he were afraid we were just making fun.

"The God of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago," he told us. "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 finding Pan. They search the earth, exploring all the wildest places, hoping to find where he is hidden, and wake him from his sleep."