I snapped out of whatever funk I was in after the dramatics of Tyson being claimed. The laughing of campers had filled my ears the way it should have and after everyone calmed down, dinner continued mostly as normal.
Now it was finally time to turn in for the night after a very long day. I muttered a goodnight to Clarisse after she helped me walk back to the Hermes cabin and waddled inside, eager to finally end this day.
I puzzled over my earlier state while I pinched my toothbrush between the backs of my bandaged hands and awkwardly struggled to brush my teeth. Why had seeing Tyson's claiming made me feel like that?
It could have been anger. There were plenty of reasons for me to be a just bit upset right now, but I wasn't exactly sure why Tyson being claimed would have been one of them.
I sighed when I finally lay down in my sleeping bag, staring up at the bottom of Andy's hammock. This was my first chance to relax today and now I was busy overthinking some random reaction. I sighed through clenched teeth and rolled over onto my side, greeted by the back of a Hermes kid's head barely two feet away.
Something like anger had been there when Tyson had been claimed, churning like magma under the stillness. Laying there, I recognized it as a feeling I felt often back when Luke would talk about his father. It was resentment.
Resentment towards the gods, more specifically. It'd been so long since I'd let myself think about the gods as more than just distant, abstract ideas that we pretended to believe in for the sake of believing in something.
Of course, I knew better than to genuinely think the gods were myths, but it was nice to pretend sometimes. To run off to a fantasy where I was just staying at a mortal summer camp, even if fighting monsters wasn't actually a regular summer camp activity.
I had this fantasy that I liked to fall asleep to sometimes. I'd pretend that one day, summer would end and I'd get picked up to go home to my family. I'd run up and hug my dad and we'd go pick up some junk food and I'd start getting ready for the next year of school.
Then, after attending whatever grade I was old enough to attend, the next summer would arrive I'd come back to the completely normal, mortal summer camp. I'd find Clarisse once I got dropped off and run into Luke and Annabeth in Cabin 11. Everything would be normal, we'd be a bunch of mortal friends. Luke wouldn't be a traitor, just a counselor I looked up to. He'd never tried to kill Percy. Percy was just some kid, not the one who'd probably bring the end of the god's reign.
But today Tyson had been claimed, proving once again that my trips to Mount Olympus during the Winter Solstice had not been dreams, and that the traits campers in the same cabin shared from the divine parts of the family were not just a funny coincidence.
Now it was here it was again. The same bitterness that filled me with animosity when Luke had told me the story behind his scar, or when I was reminded that my mother was still making the specific choice not to claim me every day, or when I'd learned that the quest Percy went on last summer had been because the gods were too paranoid and stubborn to solve their own problems, or when Clarisse had once told me about the things Ares did to his kids...
The pads of my hands were beginning to sting and I realized that I had been curling them into fists, which did not feel great with the burns. I forced myself to relax my hands and tried my best not to think about the gods anymore that night, eventually slipping into a new kind of nightmare I hadn't had before, one so much worse than any of the old dreams of being dragged toward the dark pit.
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The next two days went about as well as they could under Tantalus's rule. As promised, we had fewer scheduled activities and more free time so that those participating in the race could work on their chariots. I'd wanted to make one with Clarisse but she insisted that she was racing for the honor of the Ares Cabin, which apparently meant that only her half-siblings could help her build the chariot and only one of them would be able to race with her.
I did feel a little hurt and the fear that she might have believed I was the one to poison the tree, but I tried to keep my thoughts from straying in that direction. I know the Ares kids have to bring honor to Ares in general since their dad was an egotistical psychopath, but they also have a lot of pride in their cabin itself. It was pretty well-known around camp that Ares kids had some of the strongest bonds with each other out of any of the other cabins. The familial relationship between the children of Ares was tightly knit and no one could get between them.
I understood. I just wasn't an Ares kid. I wasn't part of their family.
'Am I part of any family?' I realized. 'I left Dad and my step-family that night. I don't think I'll ever be able to go back. Not now at least, it's too late. I can't call myself part of what they have anymore. The Hermes kids tolerate unclaimed campers, and maybe they can be friends with a few of us, but they've never considered us as family. Not the same way they think of each other as siblings. I don't know even know who my half-siblings are, either.'
Luke had been the closest thing I'd had to family since I'd left home three years ago, but he was gone now. Calling Camp Half-Blood itself home provided what little stability was left in my life, but now I wasn't even sure if that was true anymore after Tantalus had thrown the word traitor in the air.
Kids had undeniably been suspicious of me for a while before that. Even before Percy and I had explained what happened in the forest when Luke left. I could understand, they knew that I hadn't done much more than plead with Luke when he tried to kill Percy.
Not to mention everyone knew how I used to follow him around like a duckling. Everyone was probably more surprised that I didn't just disappear into the night to follow him. Hell, I still wonder how I didn't. But all that, plus being one of the first people to find the problem with the camp border was just too much evidence stacked against me.
So yeah, no surprise people had lost trust in me after everything that had happened. But things had changed now that it had been said out loud. The way many campers felt about me now was beyond being uncertain of my loyalties, they thought I was a danger to them and the camp. Or, at the very least, untrustworthy.
Acquaintances now held a notable distance. Even when they would speak to me, they were on guard, careful about their words. Other campers would just not get near me at all if they could help it.
The change in how I was treated was more than just how people acted around me. The main example being the time I'd come back to my sleeping bag one night to find the word 'TRAITOR' painted across it in black. None of my cabinmates acknowledged it or made eye contact with me when I saw it. I wasn't sure if that was because one of them had done it or if they just didn't want to get involved.
Despite most campers' feelings, Michel had still been treating my hands. I'd shown up daily as he'd requested and it turns out he hadn't been kidding about the wonders the magic salve could work. After my third visit to the infirmary, my feet were completely healed and my hands were deemed good enough to do sword training again, though they did feel a bit unsteady.
Michel said the stiffness in the muscles would go away with time but the nerve endings in m fingers had permanent damage. Luckily it was minor, only feeling a bit numb and occasionally twitching, but it was bearable. All that mattered to me was that I could still use my hands mostly the same as I used to and could grip things just fine.
I asked him about scarring, remembering graphic images of burn victims my step-brother had once shown me to make me uncomfortable. He said that it would most likely heal into discolored, rough skin but nothing was too damaged to stretch and fold as long as I used lotion regularly, which I could live with.
Even though Clarisse wouldn't be feeding me anymore, I was grateful to have my hands back. Now I could join the independent border patrols that a handful of campers had decided to continue behind Tantalus's back.
Despite some of the group having suspicions about me, the support of Annabeth, Percy, and Clarisse helped convince the group that anything that came out of Tantalus's mouth wasn't worth remembering and welcomed my help. We had patrol teams consisting of pairs and created schedules during our free time, ensuring that at least one team was guarding the camp's borders at any time.
As happy as I was to help, I hated having to pass Thalia's tree during my shifts. Being near it made dread and anxiety develop in my gut. Even the nature magic from the nymphs singing to it all day and night couldn't drive off the aura of death and decay that hung over Half-Blood Hill, growing like an infection.
Now that my favorite spot to de-stress had turned into the cause of most of it, I needed to find a way to keep myself occupied during my free time; another reason I was happy to have my hands and feet back.
For two days, I didn't have much to do but hobble around on my sore feet or sit around watching some kids from the Hephaestus plow the chariot racetrack with the repurposed bronze bulls. Not being able to keep busy bothered me, ever since last summer my mind had started to wander to not so fun things if I didn't occupy it with something else.
Well, more like worries would claw their way out of the deepest pits in my psyche if I didn't bury them in work or chatter. I couldn't help it, it would start with some random thoughts, then transition into reasonable things to worry about; like if that Aphrodite kid I'd passed by earlier had been laughing at me or monsters attacking or if Chiron was alright after getting fired. But then it'd develop into stuff that made my stomach churn; what if I hadn't been claimed yet because I was a weak embarrassment, what if Clarisse didn't actually like having me around and just tolerated me... what if Luke was right about the gods and what side I should be fighting for?
But since worrying about monsters attacking or the like didn't do me any good when my hands had been messed up, I was glad to have my hands back. When I wasn't on sentry duty around the camp, I'd started getting some extra practice with weapons in the arena.
Unfortunately, since no one wanted to be around me, I didn't have any sparring partners most of the time. So I was stuck with the combat dummies. They were great for practicing form and technique, slashing at this angle here and that angle there, but after about an hour it got pretty boring to slash at a target that wouldn't even block.
Luke had taught me almost everything I knew about swords. I was quite skilled with a blade in combat, especially considering my age and size, and I was also pretty versatile with the weapons I used. Annabeth had once given me a short lesson on the basics of using a knife and Clarisse had enthusiastically shown me how to use a range of different weapons. That said, I swear that Apollo himself had placed a curse on any bow I touched.
Yet, despite my misfortune with archery, I was surprisingly good at javelin throwing. Once the weapon left my hands it would soar straight and true, piercing the middle of the target with ease, which is another main reason I believe my archery has got to be cursed! There shouldn't be that much of a gap in skill between a javelin and a bow!
Other than losing my mind over my obvious curse in archery, I'd finally had my first pegasus riding lessons. I'd watched campers soar around in the sky above the camp for years now and I'd been so excited to try it, but only campers of thirteen or older were allowed to try pegasus riding.
Technically I wasn't thirteen yet. My birthday was at the end of May and we were only halfway through the month. Regardless, a weirdly nice Aphrodite girl named Silena had offered to let me start a couple of weeks early when she saw me wandering around camp looking for something to do.
There was the slight problem of the horses kinda hating me, though. Selina insisted that they wouldn't try to drop me once we were in the air, but I wasn't too convinced. I struggled just to get close to the winged horses without getting kicked or bitten and then struggled again during the mount when the horse suddenly rushed forward and nearly flipped me off its back. But finally, after more effort than I thought it would be worth, I'd been able to take my first flight.
It was so much better than I could have imagined; like climbing trees but on steroids. I'd never been so high off the ground before. At least, not so high without being in a pressurized cabin on an airplane, but that couldn't come close to being out in the open air without the machinery in the way of the sky.
Watching the campers do various activities from up above put my mind at such ease in a way that climbing trees had never been able to. I was so calm up in the clouds that I honestly wish I could have fallen asleep up there, but I didn't trust the pegasi enough to try and take a nap on one of them.
Any time the pegasus weren't available, I'd also been spending some time at the camp's climbing wall. I'd been obsessed with it when I first came to Camp Half-Blood. Of course, that was after getting over the initial shock and terror of seeing it shake side to side and spew lava out from various orifices.
It was the first thing I was actually kinda good at within my first few weeks, but after scaling it in full lava and earthquake mode for the hundredth time, it wasn't nearly as exciting anymore so I'd eventually stopped climbing for a challenge, finding it more enjoyable and relaxing to just climb in the trees around camp.
But now that I had so much time to kill, I'd started making bets with cocky new kids on who could reach the top first. Of course, only campers who I hadn't dropped onto from the trees during Capture the Flag games had accepted the challenge. Eventually, the pool of individuals who didn't know about my climbing began to run dry and I had to start giving head starts or kids wouldn't take the bet.
Regardless, I made a lot of drachma that day.
Finally, it was the night before the race. I slipped into my sleeping bag, dreading what Morpheus would bring to me once I slipped into the realm of Hypnos.
Lately, my nightmares had changed. I no longer woke up from my own thrashing around, because I wasn't trying to escape chains dragging me into an endless pit anymore. No, now I dreamt of Clarisse.
Over and over and over again I'd be a helpless observer as she'd be overwhelmed by an entire army of monsters or by ambushed from behind or even just fall off a boat and tread water for an inhuman amount of time before she just... couldn't anymore. Each time she'd painfully meet her end and the scene would be immediately followed by a different scenario with the same result, and each time I couldn't do anything but silently watch.
As much as I wanted to believe Clarisse would never let those things happen, that she could take on anything and come out on top, that she was as invincible as she acted, she was still human.
Well- half human, but you get what I mean. All those things could definitely happen because, even with her skill in fighting and her raw physical prowess, accidents could still happen and mistakes could be made.
While it could just be stress and anxieties from the back of my mind taking form in my dreams, there was one terrifying fact that I couldn't avoid anymore: demigods had the curse of meaningful nightmares.
Dreams for us, especially nightmares, could be prophecies or messages to warn us of possible outcomes. I'd been doing my best to pretend that my constant nightmares of the pit and chains had just been my imagination up until now, but I was not willing to risk Clarisse's life just for my own peace of mind.
During one quiet patrol around the camp border, I realized what I hoped was the message the dreams were trying to get across. In every dream, Clarisse had been alone and in every situation, the outcome could have been avoided if she'd had someone with her to help. After that, I did my best to make sure that if one of Clarisse's siblings or other friends couldn't hang out with her, I was right by her side no matter what.
The morning of the race I'd knocked my head against the ground during a particularly gruesome dream involving Clarisse in a cave and a giant pot of boiling water. The image made me sick to my stomach and I couldn't wait in line for the bathroom. I hurried outside as discretely as possible, though I get the feeling none of my cabinmates would have been very concerned even if they noticed my distress.
I walked out the door and around the back of the cabin to a tap. I leaned against the wall next to it and slid to the ground. I tried to take deep breaths for a while and once I felt that I was calm enough not to choke, I turned on the tap and cupped the water in my hands to drink, and rub handfuls on my face and into my eyes. The last thing I needed was to vomit first thing in the morning and I hoped the water would help the nausea pass.
"It's not real, Wren. It didn't happen, Clarisse is okay. She's alive and probably still snoring in her bunk. She's fine." I felt silly talking to myself, but I needed to hear it out loud. I'm not sure why I used my first name instead of my nickname, but it felt more grounding for whatever reason.
I wiped the water from my mouth, not feeling good but feeling better. I headed back inside to get ready for breakfast.
I didn't mention anything about my dreams at the dining pavilion. I'd been trying to pretend they weren't happening during the day, besides staying by Clarisse's side, but I was still uneasy when I sat down at the Ares table. I leaned against Clarisse the whole meal; just to assure myself that she was okay and alive and real.
After breakfast, it was finally time for the chariot race. Despite it being somewhat early morning, the air was already hot and humid now that summer was beginning. Fog hung low over the ground and curled around our legs as we approached the racetrack, which had been built between the archery range and the woods.
An unusual metallic noise buzzed along in the usual morning ambiance, just loud enough to be heard over the chatter of excited campers. I thought it might be cicadas, but the sound was more like pieces of sheet metal scraping together. No one else seemed to care about it though, so I shrugged and figured it was probably just something everyone already knew about and I'd missed the memo.
Tantalus was sitting closest to the track and a few satyrs had come to see the race as well. Mr. D hadn't shown up to no one's surprise since he never woke up before ten in the morning. The campers who weren't participating sat in rows on the stone steps but there was a noticeable area of empty space around me. No one but my friends would get close to me anymore, and since all my friends were participating in the race, that meant there was just more space for me to get comfortable (or at least that's what I told myself to pretend it didn't bother me).
I tried not to think of my dreams as I watched Clarisse and one of her half-brothers doing a final look over at their chariot. I know she's tough and is perfectly capable of looking after herself, she was usually the one that had to take care of my lame ass most of the time.
Still, I was unnerved. The chariot race is dangerous, everyone knew that. There had been numerous injuries when the race was still commonplace and even a few deaths. I just had to remind myself that she had her half-brother to look out for her, and he'd probably be more capable of keeping her safe than me anyways.
"Right!" Tantalus announced to the gathered campers as the teams began to finish up their last-minute preparation. A naiad brought him a plate of baked goods, his hand chased a chocolate donut-looking thing around.
"You all know the rules," he continued as if what he was doing was completely normal, " A quarter-mile track. Twice around to win. Two horses per chariot. Each team will consist of a driver and a fighter. Weapons are allowed. Dirty tricks are expected. But try not to kill anybody! Any killing will result in harsh punishment. No s'mores for a week! Now ready your chariots!"
I rolled my eyes at the punishment for killing but I wasn't really paying attention to Tantalus's announcement. I was eyeing the trees. I figured that since everyone was keeping a literal distance from me, I might as well go up and hang out in a tree for a better view.
But when I looked at the trees, I found the cause of the buzzing noise. My eyes widened as I stared up at millions of birds roosting in the trees around the track, with more still gathering. They were fat, grey-and-white pigeons, and instead of cooing, they made the sheet metal sound I'd been hearing all morning.
I decided that the jacked-up pigeons creeped me out too much, not to mention they were shaking the trees and only getting louder as time went on. If I tried to climb up there, I'd find out if they would blow my eardrums or shake me out of the tree first.
"Charioteers!" Tantalus exclaimed, "To your mark!"
My attention was taken off the annoying birds when the charioteer teams pulled onto the race track. Greek chariots were built for speed above all else, meaning they weren't exactly the safest. They were basically baskets sitting on a single axe with two wheels on either side. They're open at the back to reduce the total amount of weight and the charioteers stand the whole time. Despite them being deathtraps made of wood and horses, some of the chariots were quite fancy.
The first team to pull up to the track was representing the Hephaestus cabin. Their chariot was pulled by bronze horse automation, like the Colchis bulls. The chariot itself was made of bronze and iron, which uncomfortably reminded me of Backstabber's unique blade, and I slouched a bit when I remembered seeing Luke use it to slice at the air the last time I saw him.
I shook my head and turned my attention to the Ares chariot. It was painted blood red, like everything the Ares kids made, but it surprised me that it was pulled by two sick-as-hell skeleton horses. Clarisse hadn't let me see the chariot at all before now, so the horses were definitely a surprise. I made a mental note to ask her where the hell she'd gotten them and if I could pet one later, even if skeleton horses would hate me too.
The Apollo cabin's chariot was as over the top and beautiful as ever, the trim made of pure gold and being pulled by two horses with golden coats and white manes. They probably had a really fancy name for that color, but I'm not really big on horses; I think they've got it out for me.
The Poseidon cabin, which was really only Percy and Tyson, pulled up in a blue-green chariot with stylistic wave patterns going around the body and a green trident on both sides.
The Athena cabin's chariot was quite plain compared to some of the other cabins. It was just painted a humble gray and pulled by a pair of light-brown, spotted horses.
The Hermes cabin's chariot pulled up last. It was green and kind of beat up, giving away the fact the Stoll brothers had just pulled an old one out of storage and was also pulled by two random horses they'd gotten from the camp stables. Though, I'm not sure if that was laziness or cunning on their part. I'd seen them installing all kinds of hidden mechanisms in their chariot to spring on unsuspecting racers and anyone who assumed that it wouldn't be a threat simply by its appearance would most likely be the first to fall victim to their tricks.
"Charioteers!" Tantalus announced again, the birds had gotten so loud that he had to scream over them to be heard. "Attend your mark!"
With a wave of his hand, Tantalus kicked off the race. More noise was added to the air on top of the birds screeching as hoves thundered against the dirt and campers roared, cheering for their siblings.
Within the first few seconds, a nasty crack could be heard as the Stoll brother's chariot rammed the fancy gold Apollo chariot. It flipped over, throwing its passengers out just before completely smashing to bits, the panicked horses dragging its remains diagonally across the track. The Stoll brothers were laughing until the Apollo horses crashed right into their horses, flipping the brothers off their own chariot and leaving four panicked horses kicking up dust on the track.
Two chariots were down in the first twenty feet (and no one was dead). This sport didn't seem so bad after all.
The chariots had begun to spread out now, which looked pretty cool in the morning fog. Annabeth in the Athena chariot was in the lead and already making her first turn. Percy pulled into second place, the Hephaestus chariot right behind him and Clarisse hot on both of their trails.
The Hephaestus chariot pulled up next to Percy and a panel slid open on the side. Three sets of balls on a chain shot out toward the ocean-colored chariot. They would have turned their wheels to splinters if Tyson hadn't whacked at the chains with a long pole he was holding. Then he gave a gentle-looking shove to the Hephaestus chariot, sending it skidding off to the side and causing them to come to an almost complete stop.
The crowd was roaring around me and I actually started to join in a few cheers myself. I was still feeling a little petty about not being able to race with Clarisse, so I decided that there'd be no harm to cheer for Percy and Annabeth instead. A "Go Annabeth! Stay ahead!" here and a "Yeah, Tyson! Good job!" there. I did get some weird looks for cheering for a cyclops but I decided to just ignore them for now and enjoy the race. Not like I had any more social credit left to lose now anyway.
Percy and Tyson made their first turn around the track and were now only ten feet behind Annabeth. Her fighter pulled a javelin from his stash on the chariot and took aim. Then my vision was filled with wings and metal and screaming flooded the air. I didn't have time to bring my arms up to protect my face before slashes and bite marks began appearing on my arms and torso.
The pigeons from the trees were attacking in a swarm. Thousands of them were dive-bombing the spectators on the steps and some of the racers on the track. Chaos was all around and blood and feathers were everywhere as the birds nipped at our flesh and eyes. I heard my younger cabinmate crying and yanked Copper from my neck, commanding it into human form before rushing over to help.
Now that I had processed what was happening the birds were much more manageable. They still nipped here and there but for whatever reason, they rarely seemed to get within half a foot of me. I eventually found the ten-year-old cabinmate who had been crying. It was Andy; he'd never witnessed an attack like this and he must have been scared shitless.
Flipping Copper into an icepick grip so that I could pick up Andy without accidentally stabbing him, I grabbed the little kid under his arms and sprinted as fast as I could out of the cloud of monstrous poultry. I put him down near the archery range and told him to stay safe before rushing back into the cloud to help fight off the birds in any way I could.
The birds slashed at every bit of exposed skin they could find. While the cuts were small, the number of campers combined with the hundreds of cuts made the scene more gruesome than it had to be. I wasn't much help, wildly swinging at the birds with Copper, but more younger kids or campers who weren't good at such a close range needed help, which figured was the most I could do at the moment. If someone was more in the way and getting hurt than actually fighting, I'd either pick them up and run or grab their arm and pull them through the out of the hurricane of metal and feathers.
This cycle of running out of the cloud and then running back in went on for several minutes. At some point, I realized that the reason the birds could make such clean cuts was that their beaks were made of razor-sharp bronze. Sometime during the chaos, I came out of the cloud of wings, dragging an Aphrodite kid behind me, to find Andy handing out cheap plastic sunglasses to anyone who would take them from a box marked 'prizes.' I have no idea where he got it, but that didn't matter. He was a smart kid for thinking to get some eye protection. I took a pair he handed me before heading back in.
What felt like hours after the chaos had started, but was more likely a few minutes, I saw Clarisse draw her sword and charge into the stands. I wanted to go and watch her back, keep those things from even nipping her once but there were still campers close to being stripped to the bone and I was well aware that Clarisse wasn't in any real danger. At least not compared to some other campers. I took a breath and raced after a young Apollo kid who was crouched to the ground in a ball covering his head with his hands.
I was exhausted. I'd pulled or carried something like twenty campers out of the swarm of birds but they were still going strong, shredding clothing and ripping out chunks of hair. Somehow chariots had managed to catch on fire and the situation had all around just gone from bad to absolutely worse. All the while, Tantalus was not helping at all. He was chasing baked goods around the stands while yelling to everyone about how under control he had things and how we shouldn't worry.
I was beginning to slow down. This felt hopeless. There were still thousands of birds and we couldn't fight them anymore. A beak suddenly pierced right through the plastic lens of my cheap sunglasses and ripped it away.
I yelped, stumbling backward and slipping in a small pool of blood. I painfully on my elbow and Copper clattered out of my hand. The birds swarmed, immediately taking advantage of my eye and stomach being exposed to their sharp beaks now that I was on my back.
'Shit, shit, shit,' I chanted in my head.
I swatted them away from my exposed torso as best I could, images of my guts splattered on the rock invading my mind and adding to my panic. Despite my efforts, one of the feathered demons landed on my head while I was busy with the others. It knocked off the frame of the broken sunglasses and just a moment too late, I realized it was going for one of my eyes.
I squeezed my eyelids shut in a desperate attempt to protect the soft, squishy organ and felt its razor-sharp beak brush my eyelid.
But at that moment, the air filled with deafeningly loud music.
"When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie that's amoreee," an old guy moaned in an Italian accent while violins screeched.
The birds went crazy in response, flying in circles and bashing their heads together, abandoning the track and rising into the sky in a dark tidal wave.
I sat up quickly, patting my face to reassure myself that my eyes were still there and my nose would remain the only messed up part of my face. I closed my eyes and cupped my hands over my mouth and nose. I'm not sure if was laughing or sobbing into them but either way, I was relieved.
"Now! Archers!" A voice somewhere behind me commanded. I dragged my hands down my face and took a breath to calm myself, looking behind me to see Annabeth had been the one to give the command. She was standing next to Percy, who was holding the boombox responsible for the Italian noises.
Now that they had clear targets and space to draw their bows, the Apollo cabin had littered the ground with the corpses of the demon fowl within minutes. The survivors of the Apollo cabin's attack were soon far enough that they appeared to be nothing but a trail of smoke on the horizon.
The camp had been saved by Percy (again) and his moaning boombox, but the wreckage remained. Every chariot had been destroyed, the Hephaestus chariot's bronze horses had run into the strawberry field, ruining the crops, and Clarisse's skeleton horses had run off into the woods. Everyone was bleeding from several bites and slashes and blood plastered almost every inch of the stone steps, making a nauseating squelch when you stepped in larger puddles and some of the Aphrodite kids were screaming about their hair being ruined.
Despite somehow having a smaller number my own of open wounds compared to other campers, I had been carrying or dragging injured kids out of the cloud and by the end of the fight, I was practically rolling around on the blood-stained ground. I was covered head to toe in blood, the feathers and dust left behind by the birds sitting on the sticky red liquid and providing me with fake plumage.
I looked like some kind of giant, murderous chicken that belonged in a horror movie.
"Bravo!" Tantalus cried. I thought he was going to congratulate Percy and Annabeth for literally saving everyone's lives for the second time this week but I should have known better. "We have our first winner!"
I retrieved Copper, shrinking it into whistle form, and turned around to see Tantalus approaching an obviously confused Clarisse. He gave her the golden laurels for winning and patted her shoulder. I stared at his hand and wondered how much trouble I'd get in for cutting off the hand of the Camp Director. I'd probably get kicked out. It might be worth it.
Before I could fully weigh the options, he finally took his discussing hand off Clarisse and turned to Percy, smiling like he'd just won the lottery. "And now to punish the troublemakers who disrupted this race."