The Long Road West
"Los Angeles?" Percy asked with mild surprise as he walked alongside his two quest partners through the forest.
"Naturally," Annabeth replied in that tone she used whenever she thought something was so obvious it should be common knowledge.
"Oh, right… naturally." Percy nodded as if he had just remembered, though the sarcasm in his voice was so clear even Grover frowned. Then he sighed, looking resigned. "So we'll have to find a way to get all the way to Los Angeles… underage, broke, and without being able to take a plane because Mister Lightning Bolt might get bored and shoot one down for fun."
The irritation in his voice was impossible to miss, though it wasn't clear if he was more annoyed about the trip itself or about the capricious god forcing them to take the longest possible route just to retrieve his "lost toy."
Grover flinched at the way Percy spoke about Zeus so casually. The sky seemed to respond at once: a distant rumble echoed above them, as if the god himself had been listening from the moment Percy set foot outside Camp Half-Blood.
Percy tilted his head up, tempted to yell something like, "Yeah, yeah, I hear you!" but Grover quickly grabbed his arm before he could commit divine stupidity.
Annabeth, meanwhile, looked at him with a mix of annoyance and disapproval, as if having him on the team was more of a burden than an advantage. Percy, however, seemed more focused on watching the sky than arguing with her, as though he were checking for something.
"Remember, seaweed brain," Annabeth said sharply. "Athena isn't exactly fond of Poseidon. I'm just trying to keep you from getting fried by a lightning bolt, so maybe stop tempting fate and move faster."
"You know…" Percy said with a crooked grin, "we're still close to camp. If you don't like my company, I'm sure there's another child of some god available. Plenty of them looked excited to prove themselves—though I couldn't care less."
Annabeth's face turned red, whether from anger or embarrassment Percy couldn't tell.
"Just keep walking," she snapped, speeding up with heavy, irritated steps.
Percy, on the other hand, continued calmly, quietly savoring his small victory. Grover remained a bundle of nerves; every time Percy and Annabeth exchanged words, the poor satyr seemed to age a year.
As they advanced among the trees, Percy finally decided to check the items they had been given at camp—something he hadn't done before, perhaps because he'd been too busy picking his "dream team"… or because part of him still worried they might run into another horde of monsters like the one Miraak had destroyed days before Percy's arrival at camp.
Yet that day, the forest was peaceful. Too peaceful.
As if that earlier ambush had been something special… or maybe, a test planned by someone.
Percy pulled out a small cloth pouch from his bag. Inside, he found glowing cubes of food and small portions of golden liquid.
"So this is ambrosia and nectar," he murmured with interest.
"Idiot! Put that away," Annabeth scolded, alarmed. "That's god food. If a mortal ate or drank it by mistake, they'd be vaporized instantly. We're only supposed to use it in emergencies—to heal serious wounds."
Percy looked at her calmly, then sealed the pouch without a word and tucked it back into his bag. He pulled out another smaller one next, filled with large golden coins roughly the size of cookies.
"Gold?" he asked curiously.
"Drachmas," Grover explained, nodding eagerly. "They're used for non-mortal transactions."
"Hmm…" Percy examined them closely. There were about twenty. "What cheapskates," he said with a teasing smile.
"Cheapskates? That's a lot!" Grover exclaimed, almost offended. After all, he knew better than anyone how tight the camp's budget really was.
Percy slipped the coins back into his magic bag and, with complete nonchalance, took out a piece of dried meat and began chewing as they walked.
Grover sniffed the air, surprised. The aroma wasn't that of ordinary jerky—it smelled like a freshly grilled steak, the kind of meal one only got to taste once a year… if lucky. His eyes fixed on Percy with a mix of curiosity and horror, more out of respect for nature than hunger.
Percy noticed the look and offered him the piece with a puzzled expression.
"No, I don't eat meat," Grover said quickly, almost offended. "You should know that. We went to the same school—I always gave you my meat portions, and you gave me your vegetables."
Percy smirked. "To be fair, I still think that whole arrangement was a scam. Maybe you're not as vegetarian as you claim."
Grover opened his mouth to reply, then just sighed in defeat. Annabeth, a few steps ahead, pretended not to listen, though it was obvious her patience was hanging by a thread.
Percy kept chewing his meat with that same calm, provoking attitude that was so characteristic of him. Each bite seemed to melt away the fatigue in his muscles until, without even realizing it, he felt completely full. He walked in silence, a faint warmth spreading through his body—a sensation he recognized as the effect of that strange meat.
According to Miraak, it was "highly nutritious." Percy didn't fully understand what that meant, but he could feel the results: his energy didn't drop, and even after hours of walking, he felt neither hunger nor exhaustion.
Although, if he was honest, he wasn't entirely sure it really was dragon meat.
Still… it was delicious.
So good that, if he hadn't filled up so fast, he would've kept eating until he burst like an overinflated balloon. The strange part was that once he reached a certain point, his desire to eat vanished completely, as if his body itself refused to let him take another bite.
He then remembered the times his master had shared parts of his meals during training. Miraak always cooked in the forest, using ingredients Percy preferred not to ask about. Even so, the results were always impressive—simple, rustic dishes, but incredibly flavorful, and each with a different effect depending on the type of meat.
Once, after a particularly brutal training session that had left him completely shattered, his master had given him a stew made from an animal whose shape Percy would rather not remember. The only thing he'd recognized was what looked like… a rodent's tail. As unpleasant as it sounded, that stew had cured all his muscle pain and restored his stamina almost miraculously. His body had continued regenerating for hours afterward.
So yes, Percy wasn't exactly picky about the food his master gave him.
He knew, in a way, that it was magical.
Or maybe he just wanted to believe that—so he didn't have to consider the possibility that he'd eaten a giant rat.
"It has to be dragon. Definitely a dragon… obviously," Percy muttered to himself, half-convinced, eyeing the remaining piece of meat suspiciously, as if searching for a long tail hidden among the scraps.
Annabeth and Grover glanced at him sideways but decided not to ask.
"Tell me something," Percy said after a while, breaking the silence with a tone of complaint. "Don't you have, like, a camp bus or a magic cart or something to travel with? We've been walking for hours."
It was true. The forest was thinning out now, giving way to a straight road lined with trees. Sunlight filtered through the branches, and although Percy appeared calm, the surroundings made him uneasy.
The last time he had been in a forest, he'd ended up facing a Minotaur… wearing underwear. Not a pleasant memory.
"Yes, we did have transportation," Annabeth replied, sounding both irritated and tired. "But someone decided to annoy Mr. D, and he banned us from using it."
She frowned, adding, "Though he also said something about 'keeping you on solid ground in case a certain unwanted individual decided to show up.'"
Percy slowly turned his head toward Grover. After all, he was the one who worked cleaning the stables of the pegasi. And if anyone had managed to irritate the director, it was probably the guy stuck with that kind of job.
"It wasn't me!" Grover blurted out, waving his hands nervously. "I swear!"
Percy raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
The road stretched on for several more hours before the three of them finally reached the city. The air grew heavier, and the sound of cars replaced the birdsong. They headed straight toward the bus terminal.
Annabeth and Grover were drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. Percy was sweaty too, but more from the heat than from the effort. His endurance was clearly far greater, and he didn't hesitate to credit his master… and the mysterious "dragon meat," as he kept calling it.
The taste still lingered in his mouth, and as he watched his companions panting, he couldn't help but think that maybe he should've offered them a little.
After all, if it really was dragon meat—or whatever it was—they could at least share the mental burden of that possible culinary trauma. Well, at least Annabeth could… Grover didn't eat meat.
Then again, the satyr did eat soda cans and bits of metal.
"What a weird metabolism," Percy thought, shaking his head as they approached the ticket counter to buy their passes.