𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 (Annabeth X Malereader)

[10] We visit the garden gnome emporium

As we ventured deeper into the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, with the distant glow of New York City casting a yellow hue in the night sky, the pungent scent of the Hudson River filled our nostrils. Grover was visibly shaken, his goat-like eyes narrowing into slits filled with fear.

"Three Kindly Ones. All three at once," he murmured, still in shock. I couldn't blame him; the explosion of bus windows still echoed in my ears.

"Come on!" Annabeth insisted, her voice cutting through the tension. "The farther away we get, the better."

"All our money was back there, our food and clothes. Everything." Percy murmured

"Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight—" Annabeth retorted.

"What did you want me to do? Let you guys get killed?" Percy countered.

"You didn't need to protect us, Percy. We would've been fine."

"Sliced like sandwich bread," Grover chimed in with a touch of dark humour, "but fine."

"C'mon, guys, can we not fight for like 10 minutes?" I pleaded

"Tin cans . . . a perfectly good bag of tin cans," Grover moaned. We continued trudging through the soggy ground, our path illuminated by the eerie, twisted trees that smelt like damp laundry.

After a few minutes, I turned to Percy. "I appreciate you coming back for us, Percy. That was really brave."

"We're a team, right?" he replied.

Annabeth sighed, turning to face Percy. "I agree," she added. "It's just that if you died . . . aside from the fact that it would really suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world." The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind us, leaving us in almost total darkness. I couldn't see anything of Annabeth except a glint of her blond hair.

"You haven't left Camp Half-Blood since you were seven?" I inquired.

"No... only short field trips. My dad—" Annabeth began.

"The history professor?" I guessed.

"Yeah. It didn't work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Blood is my home." She spoke rapidly, as if fearing someone might interrupt. "At camp, you train and train. And that's all cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're any good or not." There was a hint of doubt in her voice, if I didn't know better.

"You're pretty good with that knife," I complimented. She turned to me, a spark of pride in her eyes.

"You think so?" she whispered.

"Anybody who can piggyback ride a Fury is okay by me." Though I couldn't see her expression, I thought she might've smiled.

"You know," she said, "maybe I should tell you... Back on the bus..." Her words were cut off by a shrill toot-toot-toot, sounding like an owl in distress.

"Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!" He played a few notes, but it still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff. Instead of finding a path, Percy promptly collided with a tree and earned himself a sizable knot on his head. We all doubled over, laughter breaking the tension as he grumpily moved on.

After stumbling, cursing, and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, a glimmer of light appeared ahead: the colorful glow of a neon sign. Having spent some time in the camp kitchen, I recognized the tantalizing scent of fried, greasy, and delicious food—a scent that seemed to pull Percy like a magnet.