𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐇, Clarisse la Rue

𝐱. sneaking sheepishly into the cyclops' lair

Nabi easily flew up, much to Annabeth and Percy's grumbling — though, they only came close to dying six or seven times as they climbed up, which Nabi thought was pretty alright.

   "You guys okay down there?" Nabi asked, hands on her knees as she watched them on the side on the mountain, already at the top.

   "Yeah," Annabeth said, "nearly there."

   A minute later, Annabeth hit a slippery patch of moss and her foot slipped. Fortunately, she found something else to put it against... unfortunately, that something was Percy's face.

   "Sorry." Annabeth murmured.

   "S'okay." Percy grunted, though he didn't seem like he'd wanted to know what Annabeth's shoe tasted like.

   Finally, both of them managed to haul themselves over the top of the cliff and collapsed, groaning in exhaustion.

   "GARRR!"

The noise scared all of them. Annabeth even had to clamp a hand over Percy's mouth. They whirled around to where it had came from. But then, Annabeth pointed to somewhere — Nabi realised that the ledge they were sitting on dropped off on the opposite side, and that the sound was coming from right below them.

"You're a feisty one!" A deep voice bellowed.

"Challenge me!"

Nabi recognised that voice more than anyone's. She gasped, relief washing over her, "Oh my gods, that's—"

"Shhh!" Annabeth hissed.

But there was no doubt about it... that was Clarisse.

"Give me back my sword and I'll fight you!" The Ares girl growled.

The monster roared with laughter. Nabi, Annabeth and Percy creeped up to the edge — right above the entrance of the cyclops' cave. Below them stood Polyphemus and Grover... in a wedding dress.

   Well, at least Grover looked good in it.

   Clarisse was tied up, hanging upside down over a pot of boiling water.

   "Hmm," Polyphemus pondered, "eat loudmouth girl now... or wait for wedding feast? What does my bride think?"

   He turned to Grover, who backed up and almost tripped over his completed bridal train. "Oh, um, I'm not hungry right now, dear. Perhaps—"

   "Did you say bride?" Clarisse demanded, "Who— Grover?"

Annabeth muttered, "Shut up. She has to shut up."

   As much as Nabi loved her, she really did need to zip her mouth shut. Polyphemus glared, "What 'Grover'?"

   "The satyr!" Clarisse yelled.

   "Oh!" Grover yelped, "The poor thing's brain is boiling from that hot water. Pull her down, dear!"

   Polyphemus' eyelids narrowed over his baleful milky eye, trying to see Clarisse more clearly. The cyclops wasn't exactly a sight to behold, no offence. He smelled rancid, and was dressed in his wedding outfit — a crude kilt and shoulder-wrap, stitched together from baby-blue tuxedoes, as if he'd skinned an entire wedding party.

   "What satyr?" asked Polyphemus, "Satyrs are good eating. You bring me a satyr?"

   "No, you big idiot!" Clarisse bellowed, "That satyr! Grover! The one in the wedding dress!"

  Nabi was so close to making herself known and yelling at Clarisse for how stupid she was being. But all she could do was watch as Polyphemus turned and ripped off Grover's wedding veil — revealing his curly brown hair and his tiny horns.