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A week had passed since they arrived back at home. The Hunters had finally left yesterday, amidst tears and cheering. Chiron thought this might have been the first time ever that the cheering at their departure was fake. As much as the campers hated to admit it, they would miss those girls.
Slowly but surely, camp life was returning to normal. It had been long enough that kids were able to sleep through the night without crippling nightmares, and people starting to remember that they were, in fact, supposed to sit with their siblings at mealtimes, and that there were, in fact, repercussions for not doing so. They had begun once again to hold sparring practices in the small ring, despite the way their muscles still ached with each strike.
The climbing wall was back in use, though they had kept the lava turned off for now, worried about the children’s reaction times. Mr. D. had fought the suggestion at first, saying that he didn’t care if any more of the brats died, but he caved almost immediately, so maybe he had a soul after all.
The strawberry fields thrived once more, and orders poured in, mostly from New York. It seemed that the citizens of Manhattan thought the best way to aid in the reconstruction efforts was to eat plenty of fresh strawberries.
All of these things, and yet some distinct sort of sadness still hung over them. The air was heavy, and not from humidity. The severity of the battle hovered around the campers, clinging to their clothes and weapons and camp beads. To their hearts. Their minds. It was as though Chiron could just see thoughts as they floated out of campers heads and into the air, for it seems that the entire camp had gained mind reading powers through this experience.
The old centaur trotted up to the small practice ring to observe his warriors in training, if only for a lack of anything else to do. Annabeth and Percy were the only ones there, and, as always, Annabeth was the teacher. She now had nine years of sword fighting under her belt, and as good as Percy had become, there were still things Annabeth knew that he didn’t.
Percy wielding Riptide, and Annabeth with her knife, the pair made sparring an art, keeping time with each other in some bizzare form of dance, tied together through their mastery of the blade. This was the difference between fighting for fun and fighting in battle: in battle, it was cutthroat, aggressive and choppy. For fun, fighting had rhythm and sense and a system.
Annabeth attempted to land a soft blow, but Percy parried it with measured strength and practiced ease. They continued for a while, neither landing a hit, just enjoying this odd dance.
Percy surprised Chiron by trying a move he hadn’t seen Percy use in years, twisting his blade to attempt to force Annabeth’s knife to the ground. Luke had taught him that move. It had been his very first lesson. He had only been twelve.
Annabeth was too smart for Percy, despite appreciating his remembrance of Luke’s old technique. She slid her blade out of reach just as Percy went in, and he fell forward, suddenly having nothing there to catch his movement. Annabeth reached out with her knife and tapped him on the shoulder from her place above him, and he looked up at her from the ground. “Point,” she said, a melancholy smile gracing her features.
She offered Percy her non-sword hand and pulled him to his feet, patting him on the back. Anaklusmos hung at his side, shining its faint bronze in the late morning light. “Do you want to be done? That was kind of a hard fall.” Annabeth said, looking around aimlessly.
Percy shook his head, sweat flying from the ends of his dark hair. “No, no, let’s keep going. How about until lunch? It’s only in half an hour.” He swept the hair out of his eyes and leveled his sword once again. Annabeth nodded and drew her knife.
There was always a moment, right before a fight began, when Annabeth took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and whispered something that no one else had ever picked up on except for Chiron. Family, Luke. You promised. It was what she had told Luke right before he made the choice to die for their cause a week ago, and she must have been waiting to say it for years. When her eyes flew open, they contained ten times more aggression and drive, and every strike became purposeful and targeted.
When she came towards Percy this time, there seemed to be a flash of genuine fear in his eyes before he remembered that he wasn’t on the battlefield, and this was just Annabeth, and they were just practicing. But as Chiron watched them go through this round, he saw Annabeth’s war side coming out, each point she gained driving her forward. By the time the conch horn blew for lunch, Annabeth had won, 11 to 3.
The two sheathed their blades and shook hands. Chiron quickly walked toward the dining pavilion, suddenly remembering that he had other duties to fulfill around camp, namely doing the announcements at the upcoming meal.
He watched on as they made their way to the pavilion arm in arm, and he fleetingly thought that perhaps he wouldn’t be enforcing the sit with your cabin at meals rule for a while longer after all. He marveled at the unlikeliness of this pairing; the smartest girl in the world with a hero who turned out to be the biggest idiot imaginable. Then again, it wasn’t the craziest thing he had seen. After all, Silena Beauregard had managed to befriend Clarisse. That definitely counted for something. Maybe this would too.