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Chapter Text

Percy Jackson knew better than to draw attention to himself at Yancy Academy. The more invisible he was, the less chance Nancy Bobofit and her gang had to notice him.

But invisibility was difficult when your body gave you away. His eyes didn’t look quite human, their pupils narrowing strangely in the light. His canines were a little too sharp when he spoke. And sometimes, when he was startled or anxious, small catlike sounds, a hiss, a chirp, even a nervous purr, slipped out before he could stop them.

Nancy had noticed all of that.

“Meow,” she purred mockingly as Percy hurried down the hall with his books clutched to his chest. Her friends snickered. One of them hissed. Another trilled a fake “mrrp,” imitating the sound Percy had made yesterday when a locker slammed beside him.

Percy’s face flushed hot. He ducked his head and whispered, “Sorry,” though he didn’t know what he was apologizing for.

Grover caught up quickly, his limp more pronounced when he was anxious. “Ignore them, Perce,” he said. “Just ignore them.”

Percy wanted to. He always wanted to. But the words clung like burrs. Weak. Freak. Cat-boy. The more he tried to shrink, the more they seemed to circle.

Classes weren’t much better. History blurred into myth, myth blurred into fact, and Percy couldn’t keep the two apart. Whenever he raised his hand, teachers looked surprised, like they hadn’t expected him to speak. Whenever he stayed quiet, Nancy whispered loudly, “scaredy-cat.”

Mr. Brunner, though, was different. He never looked at Percy like he was strange. When Percy’s pupils caught the light in ways no human eyes should, Brunner didn’t blink. When Percy’s voice trilled awkwardly at the end of a sentence, Brunner only smiled, as if the sound was perfectly natural.

Sometimes Percy would glance up from his textbook and find Mr. Brunner watching him with quiet intensity, like he was reading something in Percy’s face that no one else could see. It made Percy squirm, but also… safer. Like there was one adult in the world who didn’t think he was broken.

At night in the dorms, Percy dreamed of home. Of his mother humming softly as she stroked the fur of his ears, perched where no human ears should be. She never flinched at them, never tried to hide them under a hat, never pretended they weren’t there. To her, they were as natural as his smile.

Sometimes, when Percy curled up small with his tail wrapped tight around himself, she’d brush the fur gently until he purred without realizing. She always told him he was perfect exactly as he was, no matter how much the rest of the world made him feel like a mistake.

Percy didn’t know why his mom, Grover, and Mr. Brunner could see his ears and tail when no one else seemed to. He only knew that with them, he didn’t have to pretend.

The morning of the museum trip came gray and heavy with storm.

On the bus, Percy curled against the window, tail twitching beneath the seat. The hum of the engine vibrated up through his bones, making his ears flick back with every shudder. Grover sat beside him, trying to distract him with whispered jokes, but Percy couldn’t shake the crawling feeling under his skin.

Something was wrong.

Nancy was already tormenting him, flicking bits of sandwich at his hair. Percy ducked lower, purring nervously under his breath without realizing it, a soft, anxious vibration in his chest. Nancy cackled and mimicked the sound for the whole bus to hear.

Percy’s cheeks burned. His claws dug crescents into his palms. He wanted to disappear.

By the time they reached the museum, Percy’s nerves were raw. The stone walls echoed with footsteps, every shuffle and cough sharp in his sensitive ears. He trailed close to Grover, trying to make himself small.

Mr. Brunner wheeled forward, voice echoing gently through the hall. “Today, we look at the gods and monsters of Greece. Remember, history is never as far from myth as you think.”

Percy shivered. His prey-instincts fluttered in his chest like a trapped bird. The statues seemed to stare too closely. Shadows clung too darkly in the corners.

When Mr. Brunner’s gaze found him, steady and knowing, Percy swallowed hard. He didn’t understand what Brunner saw in him, only that it wasn’t what everyone else did.

Nancy whispered “Kitty-cat” behind him, and the other kids snickered. Percy’s tail twitched violently beneath his jacket, but he didn’t turn around. He kept walking, soft, silent, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

The Greek wing of the museum was colder than the halls outside. The air smelled of dust and stone polish, and every footstep echoed too loudly. Percy trailed near the back of the group, shoulders hunched, tail curled tight under his jacket where no one could see. His ears twitched nervously at the scrape of sneakers and the sharp click of Mrs. Dodds’s heels.

Mr. Brunner rolled to the front in his chair, his voice carrying easily through the gallery. “Stay together, please. The stories on these walls are older than the stones themselves, and far more dangerous.”

Percy didn’t know why the words made his stomach tighten, but they did.

They stopped before a massive painting, taller than any of the students, its dark colors pulling the eye like a nightmare. Percy froze. He knew this one. A gaunt, wild-eyed titan crouched over a limp child, his mouth smeared red, his hands clutching the small body as if he meant to swallow it whole.

Percy’s ears flattened without him thinking about it. His tail lashed once, then curled tight.

Mr. Brunner’s gaze swept the class. “Mr. Jackson,” he said. “Can you tell us what this scene depicts?”

Heat rushed to Percy’s face as everyone turned to look at him. He hated being stared at. His throat closed, but he forced himself to answer, softly:

“…Kronos. Eating his children.”

A ripple went through the group, some groaned, some laughed nervously. Nancy made an exaggerated gagging noise.

“That is correct,” Mr. Brunner said. His tone was calm, but his eyes didn’t leave Percy. “And why might this story be important?”

Percy swallowed hard. His claws pricked into his palms. He didn’t want to answer. But the painting clung to him, the titan's crazed eyes, the helpless weight of the child. He knew what it felt like to be small and helpless.

So he said, very quietly “because sometimes the people you’re supposed to trust… are the ones who hurt you. The myths are warnings. They remind you to be careful.”

The laughter died. A few kids shifted uncomfortably. Mr. Brunner’s expression softened — not pity, exactly, but something steadier, heavier, like he was proud.

Then Nancy snorted. “Yeah, real helpful. I’ll totally remember this next time my dad tries to eat me for breakfast.”

The class erupted. Percy’s face burned hot, and his ears flicked down hard. His tail lashed once beneath his jacket. He wanted to disappear.

Mr. Brunner didn’t smile. He turned back to Percy. “Mr. Jackson. Tell me, why do you think this would matter in the real world?”

Percy’s throat ached. The words scraped coming out. “…Because if you only laugh at the stories… you won’t notice when they start happening again.”

The laughter quieted. For a moment, no one spoke.

Mr. Brunner gave a single, approving nod. “Well put.”

Percy ducked his head, wishing his ears would stop burning. He didn’t understand why Mr. Brunner’s questions always made him feel seen, like he was supposed to know more than he did.

As the group shuffled on, Percy kept his eyes on the floor, but the image of Kronos’s teeth and the helpless child wouldn’t leave him. His stomach twisted, and a shiver ran down his spine.

Something about the painting felt too close.

Chapter Text

The drizzle had stopped by lunchtime, leaving the courtyard damp and echoing with voices. The class spread across the stone benches, tearing into their sandwiches. Percy sat with Grover, head low, tail curled tight against the bench closest to the fountain. He tried to stay small, to stay quiet.

Nancy didn’t let him.

She strolled past with her friends, already smirking. “Careful, kitty,” she sing-songed. “Don’t cough up a hairball in your milk.”

A few kids snickered. Percy’s ears flicked down. He hunched over his sandwich.

Nancy wasn’t done. She veered close, snatching the bag from Percy’s hands and dumping half his lunch on the ground. “Oops. Guess cats really do eat off the floor.”

Her friends laughed. Percy’s face flushed hot. His claws pricked into his palms. He wanted to hiss, but the sound stuck in his throat. He whispered, “Please give it back,” so softly no one heard.

Nancy grinned, backing toward the fountain. She dangled the rest of his sandwich like bait. “Come get it, kitty-cat-”

The fountain exploded.

A surge of water rose like a hand, slapping the food from Nancy’s grip and wrapping around her middle. She shrieked as the spray yanked her off her feet, plunging her into the basin with a spectacular splash.

Gasps and laughter rippled through the courtyard.

Percy stumbled back, wide-eyed. His ears flattened, tail puffing. His first thought was that he’d done it somehow, but his hands were shaking empty at his sides. His heart raced too fast. He hadn’t moved a muscle.

In the fountain, the water shifted again. Not random, not wild. For a heartbeat Percy thought he saw something in the spray: a face, faint and rippling, eyes glimmering like sunlight on waves. Protective. Watchful.

And then it was gone.

Nancy hauled herself out, dripping and sputtering. “He did it! He pushed me!”

“I didn’t-” Percy started, but his voice cracked to a frightened mewl. Nobody listened. Half the class was laughing, the other half crowding around Nancy.

A sharp voice cut through the noise.

“Mr. Jackson.”

Mrs. Dodds stood on the steps, her black jacket dark against the gray sky. Her eyes pinned Percy like talons. “A word. Now.”

Percy’s stomach dropped. His tail lashed once. He didn’t move until Grover touched his arm.

“Go on,” Grover whispered. His face was pale. “Just… don’t make her mad.”

Percy’s throat was too tight to answer. His ears pressed flat against his head like they where trying to disappear and he followed Mrs. Dodds back inside on shakey legs.

The corridors felt too quiet, too empty. His footsteps echoed, his tail flicking anxiously behind him.

Mrs. Dodds didn’t stop until they reached the Greek exhibition again. The paintings loomed darker in the silence, and Kronos’s wild eyes seemed to follow him from the canvas.

Percy swallowed hard. Something was wrong.

The gallery was empty. Too empty. The footsteps of the class had faded away, leaving Percy alone with Mrs. Dodds in the echoing hall.

She stopped in front of the huge painting of Kronos devouring his children. Her shoulders were rigid, her sharp profile silhouetted against the madness of the god’s eyes on the canvas.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” she asked. Her voice was low and cold, every syllable biting.

Percy’s stomach twisted. His ears pressed flat, his tail curling tight around his leg. “I-I didn’t do anything.”

Her head snapped toward him, too quick. Her eyes glinted, not brown anymore but a sickly, burning yellow. “Don’t lie to me, boy.”

Percy stumbled back. His claws pricked his palms. Every nerve screamed danger. His chest rose and fell in shallow gasps.

Mrs. Dodds’s lips pulled back in a grin too wide to be human. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice you? Did you think you could hide what you are?”

Her body rippled. Her jacket tore. Wings erupted from her back, leathery and vast. Her face stretched and warped into something older, crueler, eyes glowing, teeth jagged, talons curling like hooked blades.

The Fury spread her wings, black as stormclouds, blotting out the light.

Percy choked on a sound, half-squeak, half-mewl. His tail puffed full, his ears flat to his skull. His body locked, frozen. He wanted to run but his legs wouldn’t move.

“You should never have been born,” the Fury hissed. The words rattled in the air like broken glass. “And now you will pay.”

She lunged.

Percy flinched, throwing his arms up. Something solid thumped into his hand, the pen Mr. Brunner had given him for the field trip. He didn’t even remember grabbing it.

The cap clicked off as his grip tightened. In a burst of golden light, the pen stretched and lengthened, bronze gleaming, until Percy was clutching a sword.

He yelped in terror, nearly dropping it. His hands shook so badly he couldn’t even lift the blade properly. “Wh-what? What is-?”

The Fury’s shriek cut him off as she hurtled toward him, claws outstretched. Percy’s instincts screamed. He didn’t swing. He couldn’t. He just held the sword out in front of him, trembling, like a kitten showing claws it didn’t know how to use.

Her momentum carried her straight into it.

There was a burst of heat and sulfur. A scream that tore through the marble and rattled Percy’s bones. Mrs. Dodds, the Fury, dissolved into dust, the black smear of her wings scattering into nothing.

Percy collapsed backward onto the floor. The sword clattered from his hands, and in the blink of an eye, it was only a pen again, rolling harmlessly across the tiles.

His chest heaved. His ears rang. His tail curled tight around him as he sat trembling against the cold stone.

By the time Percy stumbled back into the courtyard, his hands still shook. His ears rang with the echo of Mrs. Dodds’s shriek, and the sulfur stench clung stubbornly to his nose. His tail twitched under his jacket, puffed and restless.

But outside, the class sat on benches, laughing and eating like nothing had happened. Nancy Bobofit was wringing water out of her jacket and complaining loudly, surrounded by her snickering friends.

No one looked like they’d heard the monster scream itself to ash only minutes ago.

Percy found Grover sitting on the edge of a bench with an apple in his lap. He hurried over, tail tucked tight. “Grover,” he whispered. “Tell me you saw that. Tell me you saw her.”

Grover blinked up at him, chewing slowly. “Saw who?”

“Mrs. Dodds!” Percy’s voice cracked. His ears pressed flat, and a desperate little chirp slipped out. “She-she had wings, Grover. You had to see-”

Grover’s eyebrows pinched together, but his voice stayed level, too careful. “Percy… our math teacher is Mrs. Kerr. She’s always been Mrs. Kerr.”

Percy stared at him. His stomach dropped, claws digging into his palms. “No-no, she hasn’t. She hasn’t! She’s been Mrs. Dodds all year!”

Nancy, wringing out her hair, snickered. “What are you babbling about, Jackson? Who’s Mrs. Dodds?”

Her friends picked up the mockery at once. “Yeah, kitty, who’s Mrs. Dodds?”

Laughter rippled across the benches. Percy’s face burned hot. His tail lashed. He turned back to Grover, desperate, but Grover only looked away, pale and uncomfortable, saying nothing.

Then a woman appeared at the edge of the courtyard, plain clothes, severe face, arms full of papers. “Lunch is over,” she called briskly. “Come along, children.”

Percy froze. His ears flattened, his chest tight. It was her. It had to be her. But… it wasn’t. This woman walked like she’d been here forever. She scolded a boy for littering, handed Nancy a towel, and swept her sharp eyes across the courtyard like nothing strange had ever happened.

Mrs. Kerr.

The other kids packed up, laughing and grumbling as they followed her inside. Percy's feet stayed rooted to the floor, tail curled tight, heart pounding like it might crack his ribs.

He knew what he’d seen. The wings. The claws. The way she’d screamed when the sword struck her. He knew.

But everyone else acted like she’d never existed. Even Grover.

Percy hugged his arms around himself, shivering. He wanted to cry, but the sound stuck in his throat.

Something was wrong with him. Something had always been wrong with him.

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The next few weeks crawled by, Percy drifting through classes in a haze. The laughter and taunts about “Mrs. Dodds” still followed him, and no matter how much he insisted, the teachers, the students, even Grover all acted like she’d never existed.

At night, Percy curled small in his bunk, tail wrapped tight around his legs, ears twitching at every sound. His claws clicked against the pages of his textbooks as he tried to study, but the words swam. His stomach never seemed to settle. Something was wrong with him. It had to be.

One night, restless, Percy padded quietly through the hall, his textbook under his arm. He thought maybe he could study in the common room, where the lights were dim but at least no one was snoring.

But as he passed Mr. Brunner’s office, voices drifted through the half-open door.

Percy froze, ears twitching toward the sound. He knew he shouldn’t listen. His tail lashed nervously. But something in the tone made him stop.

“…I’m worried about the boy,” Grover was saying. His voice trembled. “He’s not like the others. He’s too soft. Every bully in school circles him like-like he’s already prey. He doesn’t fight back. He doesn’t even shout. He just… curls in. He’s not going to survive the summer.”

Percy’s throat tightened. His claws bit into the cover of his book.

Mr. Brunner’s calm voice answered. “That softness may be his greatest strength. You and I both know not all battles are won with swords.”

Grover made a distressed sound. “But the deadline-”

“Yes. The summer solstice draws near.” A heavy pause. “If we fail before then, there will be war. And the boy will be caught in the middle.”

Percy’s ears flicked wildly. War? Deadline? He pressed closer to the door before he could stop himself, his tail twitching.

“I don’t know if he’s ready,” Grover whispered. “I don’t know if he even understands what he is.”

A silence followed, thick and heavy.

Percy’s claws slipped. His textbook tumbled from his arms, landing on the hall floor with a thud that echoed like thunder.

He froze. His ears shot up, tail puffing full in alarm.

The voices inside stopped.

Heart hammering, Percy scooped up the book and bolted down the hall. He darted back into the dorm, flung himself onto his bunk, and curled small, squeezing his eyes shut. His ears still twitched wildly, but he forced his breathing into an imitation of sleep.

The door creaked open. Grover's footsteps padded up to his bed. Percy’s heart slammed so hard he thought it would give him away.

Then silence. Grover retreated back to his own bed and Percy let put a small breath of relief.

He buried his face in the pillow, trembling. His tail curled tight against him.

He didn’t understand what Grover and Mr. Brunner had meant, only that it was about him. And that somehow, whatever was coming, he wasn’t ready.

Chapter Text

The principal’s office smelled like old paper and stale coffee. Percy sat curled small in the chair, ears drooping low, tail wrapped tight around his ankle.

Across from him, the principal folded his hands. “Percy… you’re a sweet boy.” He said it like a consolation prize. “But you cause too much trouble here. I think it’s best if you don’t come back next year.”

Percy’s claws dug crescents into his palms. Sweet. Trouble. Always the same. He nodded quickly so the words would stop. His ears burned as he shuffled out of the office.

Grover was waiting, shifting from foot to foot, his eyes worried. “Percy?”

Percy shook his head, tail lashing once before curling back tight. “They don’t want me here.” His voice cracked small. “Let’s just go.”

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The bus ride was quiet. Percy pressed against the window, ears twitching at every rumble. Grover kept darting glances at him, but didn’t speak.

Then came the sharp hiss of brakes. The bus shuddered and rolled to a stop at the side of the highway. The driver swore and told everyone to get off while he checked the engine.

The passengers filed out, grumbling. Percy trailed after Grover, ears flicking uneasily. The air outside smelled of hot asphalt and oil.

Then he froze.

Three old women sat at the edge of the road, hunched over a basket of yarn. Their eyes gleamed too sharp. One spun the thread, one measured it. And the third… lifted the shears.

Percy’s tail puffed full. His chest squeezed. He couldn’t breathe.

The shears snipped. The sound cracked through his head like thunder.

He couldn’t move. His ears rang. His whole body locked, prey frozen in a predator’s gaze.

“Percy!” Grover’s voice was sharp, panicked. He grabbed Percy’s arm, tugging hard. “Don’t look! Come on!”

Percy’s gaze snapped back to the thread, cut clean, dangling in the basket. His breath hitched, breaking the trance. He stumbled after Grover, tail still bristled, ears pinned flat.

They clambered back onto the bus just as the driver shouted the engine was working again. Percy collapsed into the seat, curling small, heart pounding. Grover’s hands shook as he clutched his bag.

The rest of the ride passed in tense silence.

When they reached the city, the bus station was crowded and loud, lights buzzing harshly. Percy’s ears twitched miserably at every sound. Grover leaned close. “Wait here, okay? I need the bathroom.”

Percy nodded, but his stomach churned. He thought of Grover following him home. Thought of the apartment, the stale smoke, the sticky floors, the way Gabe’s voice always rose to a yell. Percy’s ears pressed flat, shame burning hot under his fur. He couldn’t let Grover see.

The moment Grover disappeared into the bathroom, Percy slipped out the station doors. He flagged a cab with trembling hands, tail curled tight beneath him.

As the car pulled away, he whispered, “Sorry, Grover.”

The cab ride rattled through the city in silence. Percy pressed his forehead to the cool glass, ears drooping low, tail curled tight under his jacket. Streetlights blurred into streaks of orange. Every honk and shout outside made his ears twitch.

When the cab finally pulled up to the apartment building, Percy’s stomach twisted. The walls were stained with old smoke, the lobby smelled like mildew. He paid the driver with trembling hands and hurried up the stairs, tail flicking anxiously behind him.

The door creaked open under his key.

Inside, the air was thick with the stench of cigar smoke and fried food. A greasy pile of poker chips clattered as Gabe Ugliano looked up from the couch. His bloodshot eyes narrowed.

“Well, look who finally shows up,” he grunted. “School kick you out already, kid?”

Percy’s ears pressed flat. His claws pricked his palms. He ducked his head, curling smaller. “Evening, Gabe.” His voice cracked.

Gabe blew smoke toward him and snorted. “Useless. You better not have come back expecting me to feed you. Your mom better be cooking tonight.”

Before Percy could answer, another voice cut through the haze.

“Percy?”

Sally Jackson emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes softened the instant they fell on him. She crossed the room and gathered him into her arms before he could shrink away.

Percy melted into her, his tail slipping free to curl around her leg. His ears twitched against her shoulder as she stroked the fur gently, just like always. “You’re home,” she murmured. “My brave boy.”

For a moment, the smoke and Gabe’s glare disappeared. Percy purred softly into her shirt without meaning to.

But the spell broke with Gabe’s voice: “Sally! Where’s my dinner? Don’t waste all night fussing over the brat.”

Percy flinched. His tail lashed once before curling tight again.

Sally smoothed his hair back from his ears and gave him a smile meant only for him. “Go put your things in your room,” she whispered. “I’ll bring you something to eat in a bit.”

Percy nodded, throat tight, and slipped away down the hall. 

In his room Percy curled on the bed with his tail wrapped close. From here, the smell of smoke was duller, the shouting only a muffled rumble. He buried his face in the pillow, purring faintly to calm himself, and clung to the thought of Sally’s arms around him.

She saw him. She always had.

But outside his door, the world still belonged to Gabe.

Chapter Text

The weekend came heavy with summer heat. Percy’s tail twitched with restless energy he couldn’t settle, his ears flicking at every slam of Gabe’s voice from the living room.

Then Sally touched his shoulder, her smile soft and steady. “Pack a bag, Percy,” she said. “We’re going away for a few days.”

He blinked, ears perking. “We are?”

“Montauk,” she said, with that gentle certainty that always made his chest ease. “Just you and me.”

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The drive out felt like peeling away layers of smoke and noise. With every mile the air grew cleaner, and Percy’s tail slowly uncurled, flicking against the seat in shy excitement. His ears twitched to the sound of waves long before the shore came into view.

By the time they reached the cabin, the sea breeze was in his fur and the salt air made him want to purr. He curled his toes in the sand and let the surf rush around his ankles.

Sally laughed softly, watching him dart after the foam like a kitten. “I knew you’d like this.”

Percy’s cheeks warmed. He ducked his head. “I… it feels safe here.” His voice cracked on the word. “Like… I belong.”

Sally came to stand beside him, her hand brushing the fur of his ear the way she knew soothed him. “That’s because you do. This place is yours, Percy. It’s always been yours.”

They spent the afternoon on the beach. Percy napped curled in the sun with his tail tucked against his nose, Sally’s sweater draped over him. When he woke, she told him stories of when he was little, how he’d toddled into the surf without fear, how dolphins had once come so close she’d sworn they were greeting him.

As the sun dipped low, Percy looked up at her. “Mom?” His ears twitched nervously. “Why am I… different?”

Her eyes softened. She tucked a curl back from his face. “Because you’re special. And one day, you’ll understand how special. But right now, you just need to know I love you, exactly as you are.”

Percy purred softly, curling against her side. For the first time in weeks, the tension in his chest eased.

He didn’t know that this would be the last truly peaceful moment he would have with her.

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That night the dream came heavy, sinking Percy into darkness.

A beautiful white horse and a powerful bald eagle fought on the sand, wings and hooves colliding with thunderous force. They screeched and screamed, tearing at one another while a huge black dog circled at the edge, whining as if it wanted to stop them but didn’t know how.

Then the sand shuddered.

It cracked open, yawning into a chasm deeper than anything Percy had ever seen. A voice rose from it, oily and cold, beckoning him closer.

Come down. Come to me, little one. You belong in the dark.

Percy tried to back away, but his feet slipped on the sand. The pit widened. The voice grew louder, pulling at him-

Thunder ripped the dream apart.

Percy bolted upright in bed, ears flat, tail puffed. The storm outside lashed rain against the cabin windows, lightning burning white across the sea. His chest heaved, heart pounding.

Then came a knock at the door.

Sally stirred immediately. She padded softly across the room and opened it.

“Grover?” she gasped.

Percy scrambled off the bed, ears twitching. Grover stood in the doorway, soaked through. His jeans were ripped to shreds at the knees, and below them-

Percy froze. His pupils widened. His tail curled tight. Grover’s legs were shaggy, furred, and bent like a goat’s, ending in cloven hooves that dripped with rainwater.

Percy’s breath hitched. “Wh-what-?”

Grover’s eyes darted toward him, panicked. “No time, Perce. Something big is after you. It’s on its way now. We’ve got to get you to camp before it finds you.”

Percy stumbled back, tail lashing, ears flat. “What do you mean? What’s happening?!” His voice cracked, a frightened mewl breaking through.

Sally’s hands settled firmly on his shoulders. Her touch steadied him. “We’ll explain later, sweetheart,” she promised. Her eyes, though, were grim, urgent. “Right now, you need to trust me. Get in the car.”

Percy’s legs shook. His tail lashed again. He wanted to curl up and hide under the blankets, but Sally’s calm voice kept him moving.

Outside, thunder split the sky.

And in the distance, Percy swore he heard something else- a bellow, deep and furious, echoing closer with every heartbeat.

Chapter Text

The car fishtailed on the wet highway, rain lashing the windshield in sheets. Sally gripped the wheel, her eyes fixed on the road. Grover twisted in the passenger seat, his hooves stamping nervously against the floor mat.

Percy sat curled in the back, tail wrapped tight around his legs, ears pinned flat against his head. Every crack of thunder made him flinch. His claws dug shallow grooves into the seat.

“Mom-” His voice cracked, breaking into a frightened chirp. “What’s happening? What is Grover?”

Sally’s gaze flicked to the mirror, her eyes soft even as her jaw was set. “Later, Percy. I promise I’ll tell you everything. Right now we just have to get you to camp.”

Grover shifted anxiously. “It’s close, Sally. I can feel it.” His voice was tight with dread.

Percy’s ears twitched wildly. “What’s close?”

Grover didn’t answer.

The sky split with lightning. In the flash, Percy saw a shape lumbering across the overpass ahead, huge and horned, its outline jagged and wrong.

The ground trembled as it roared.

Percy shrank into the seat with a terrified mewl, tail puffed full. His mother’s hands tightened on the wheel.

“The Minotaur,” Grover whispered.

The car jolted as Sally swerved down the exit, tires screaming against the wet asphalt. The monster bellowed again, closer this time.

Percy clutched the back of the seat, claws tearing into the fabric. His chest heaved. “It’s following us,” he whispered, though his voice shook too much to make it more than a squeak.

“It will always follow you now,” Grover muttered, panic sharp in his tone.

Sally’s voice was steady, firm, even through the storm. “We’ll make it. Hold on, Percy. Just hold on.”

The headlights cut through the rain as they veered off the highway, onto a winding country road lined with trees that shook and bent in the wind. The storm howled around them, but above it all was the pounding of hooves, the monster was coming.

Percy pressed himself against the seat, ears flat, tail tight against his leg. His body knew before his mind did: he was being hunted.

And the hunter was almost here.

The storm split the sky apart. Lightning speared down and struck the hood of the car.

The world turned over. Metal screamed, glass shattered, and Percy’s tail lashed helplessly as the seatbelt bit into his chest.

When he opened his eyes again, the car was on its side in the ditch, steam hissing from the crumpled hood. His ears rang. His chest heaved.

“Percy!” Sally’s voice cut through the chaos, steady and commanding. Her face appeared in the jagged gap of the broken door. She pulled him out, her hands firm but gentle, as if even now she was afraid of hurting him.

Grover was half-conscious in the passenger seat, bleating weakly. Sally hooked her arms under his and hauled him free, though her body shook with the effort.

The three of them stumbled into the mud as the storm raged overhead.

Then Percy heard it.

The pounding of hooves. Heavy. Relentless. The ground itself seemed to shudder with every step.

The Minotaur.

It loomed through the rain, steam curling off its skin where the drops hit. It stopped beside the wrecked car, sniffing the air. Its horns gleamed in the lightning’s flash.

Sally grabbed Percy’s shoulders. Her hands trembled, but her eyes were fierce. “Listen to me. You see that tree? The pine at the top of the hill? Take Grover there. That’s your safe place. Once you’re past it, you’ll be protected.”

Percy’s ears flattened. His tail curled tight around his leg. “I don’t want to leave you!” His voice cracked to a terrified mewl.

Her face softened, even now. She brushed his damp hair back from his ears the way she always had. “It’s you it wants, Percy. Not me. Please, you have to run.”

His claws dug into her sleeve. His chest shook. “No! I can’t-”

"Go!” Her voice rose for the first time, sharp as the thunder above. “Run!”

Percy stumbled, dragging Grover up the slope. Mud sucked at his shoes. Grover’s hooves slipped on the wet ground, forcing Percy to heave his arm over his shoulders.

Then he looked back.

Sally stood between them and the Minotaur. She was small, fragile against the monster’s hulking bulk, but her stance was unshakable. Her arms spread as though she could shield him, even now.

The Minotaur bellowed. Its roar drowned out the storm.

“Mom!” Percy’s scream tore from his throat, breaking into a high, desperate cry. His tail lashed, fur bristling. His whole body shook with terror.

He set Grover down in the mud and stumbled back down the slope toward her. Every instinct in him screamed to run, to hide, but he couldn’t. Not while she was there. Not while she was alone.

The Minotaur lowered its head.

“No!” Percy choked, sprinting, paws slipping on the grass. “Don’t-please don’t-”

The monster charged.

Sally turned just enough to look at him. And she smiled. Soft. Proud. Loving.

Then the Minotaur struck.

It caught her in its massive hands and snapped her body as though she were made of glass. Her scream split the night and cut off in an instant.

Percy skidded to his knees in the mud as the world shattered with her. Blood sprayed across the wet grass, and onto him. Warm. Terrifying. Too real.

“Mom…” His voice cracked into a broken chirp, helpless, desperate. His claws dug into the earth until the soil bled under his fingers. His tail curled so tight against his body it ached.

The Minotaur dropped her limp body in the mud. For one impossible second, Percy prayed she would move, that she would breathe, that she would come back.

She didn’t.

Her eyes were still open, reflecting the lightning.

Percy let out a keening sound, high and small, animal and human at once. His chest heaved with sobs he couldn’t control. The rain plastered her hair to her face, streaked her blood into the mud, and Percy couldn’t look away.

He crawled forward on trembling limbs until his claws brushed her hand. It was limp. Cooling.

“Please…” His voice was a whisper now, too soft to hear over the storm. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

But the Minotaur’s shadow fell over him.

Its nostrils flared. It had scented him now.

Percy’s tears mixed with the rain as he curled small over his mother’s body, shaking. He was prey, cornered, broken. And the hunter was ready to finish him.

The Minotaur turned from Sally’s body, steam rising off its shoulders in the rain. Its nostrils flared. Its gaze locked on Percy.

Percy scrambled backward, claws raking the mud, sobs tearing raw from his throat. His tail dragged uselessly, already mangled from a glancing blow. His ears rang, blood streaming warm down his temples.

The beast bellowed and lunged.

Percy shrieked and bolted, but his movements were frantic, panicked, prey dodges, not strategy. He slipped in the mud, darted left, then right. The Minotaur’s hand caught him anyway, slamming him against a tree. His chest seized as the air was crushed from his lungs. He crumpled, coughing blood.

He staggered up, clutching the pen-sword from before with shaking hands, only to be caught again. The monster hurled him across the slope. His vision went white when he hit. His ears split against the rocks, ringing so loudly the storm itself went quiet.

He tried to crawl, tail dragging uselessly. The Minotaur stomped down on his side, and Percy’s scream cracked into a keening, animal sound.

“Mom-mom-" the word was broken now, half a sob, half a plea.

The Minotaur lowered its horns, preparing to gore him.

Percy’s body moved before his mind could catch up. Not anger. Not vengeance. Just the raw, blind instinct of a cornered animal. He thrust the sword out in front of him, sobbing, eyes squeezed shut.

The Minotaur charged.

The blade sank deep into its chest. The monster howled, stumbled, and burst apart in a storm of sulfur and ash.

Percy collapsed with it. The sword tumbled from his hands. His chest hitched shallowly, every breath a knife in his ribs. His tail lay twisted, broken. His ears bled freely down his neck. His claws scrabbled weakly at the mud before curling inward.

He barely felt the rain anymore. His body shook with sobs, though the sound was thin, fading.

It didn’t feel like victory. It felt like the last few seconds before death.

Through the blur of his vision, he saw a figure coming up the slope. A boy, older than him, blonde hair plastered wet against his head, eyes wide in shock.

“Kid, hey!” the boy called, breaking into a run. “Hold on-”

Percy tried to lift his head, but the world tilted. His ears buzzed, his claws trembled against the earth. His tail gave one last twitch before going limp.

Darkness closed in before he could see the boy’s face clearly.

Chapter Text

The storm was loud enough to drown out most sounds, but not that roar.

Castor and Pollux had only just started their border patrol when the Minotaur’s bellow rattled the hills. They sprinted toward it, lightning slashing the sky open.

They crested the ridge just in time to see it.

Grover Underwood lay unconscious in the mud, his goat legs twisted awkwardly beneath him. And a few feet away, a boy younger than them, maybe twelve, stood with a sword in his shaking hands.

The Minotaur lunged.

The boy thrust the blade forward, not like a fighter, but like something cornered, desperate. By some cruel chance of timing, the monster impaled itself on the weapon. Its roar shook the night before it crumbled into sulfur and ash.

The boy collapsed with it.

“Gods,” Pollux breathed. He ran for Grover at once.

Castor sprinted toward the boy. He dropped to his knees as the kid sagged into the mud, barely conscious, breath hitching shallow.

Then Castor froze.

The boy had ears. Not human ones, triangular, furred, plastered flat against his bloodied hair. And a tail, long and matted with mud, dragging limply behind him, bent at an angle that made Castor’s stomach twist.

He’d grown up at camp. He’d seen satyrs, nymphs, even the odd cyclops. But never this. Never a demigod with animal features.

“By the gods…” he whispered.

The kid whimpered faintly in his sleep, curling in on himself despite the pain. Castor snapped back to motion, pressing two fingers to the boy’s throat. A pulse, weak, thready, but there.

“Hey, hey. Stay with me,” Castor urged, though he doubted the boy could hear him.

As he shifted to lift him, Castor’s gaze flicked across the slope and his chest clenched. A woman’s body lay crumpled a few feet away in the mud, blood streaked down her clothes, her eyes open and glassy.

His mother. She had to be.

Castor swallowed hard. He reached down and slid his arms beneath the boy, lifting him carefully. The child weighed almost nothing. Too light. His ears twitched weakly against Castor’s chest; his tail hung limp, broken, across his arm.

Pollux’s voice carried up the slope. “Castor!” He had Grover propped against him now, the satyr groaning as he stirred awake. Pollux’s eyes went wide when he saw the bundle in Castor’s arms.

“Get him to the infirmary,” Pollux said quickly, tightening his grip on Grover. “I’ll stay with him.”

Castor nodded, adjusting his hold so the boy’s head rested against his shoulder. His small body shook even in unconsciousness.

Castor looked once more at the broken tail, the bloodied ears, the woman lying still in the mud. Whatever this kid was, whatever god had sired him, he wasn’t like anyone Castor had ever seen before.

“Hang on, kid,” Castor murmured as he started up toward the pine tree. “Just hang on.”

The storm eased as Castor carried the boy past the pine tree, the great barrier humming faintly in his chest as they crossed. The camp sprawled below, lanterns glowing warm against the dark rain.

The boy stirred faintly, a soft whimper rising from his throat. Castor tightened his grip. “Easy. I’ve got you.”

The ears pressed weakly against his chest twitched, fur slicked with blood. The tail hung limp over his arm, bent wrong at the middle. Every step Castor felt how light he was, bones and trembling muscle, more fragile than any demigod Castor had ever carried from a border fight.

By the time they reached the camp’s main path, the first campers had spotted them. Figures hurried out from the cabins, faces pale in the lantern glow.

“What happened?” a boy from Hermes cabin called.

“Is that-are those ears?” a girl whispered, wide-eyed.

“He looks half… cat,” someone muttered.

The whispers spread like wildfire. Shock, awe, suspicion. Some kids stared with open fascination, others with unease, like Castor was carrying in a monster rather than a demigod.

Castor ignored them all. He adjusted the boy higher against his chest, careful of the tail, and pushed through the crowd.

"Clear the way,” he barked, more sharply than usual. The campers scattered back.

He reached the infirmary cabin, shouldered the door open, and laid the boy gently on the nearest cot. His head lolled to the side, ears bloodied and flat, tail twitching weakly before going still again.

Will Solace was already there, hair rumpled from sleep but hands steady as he hurried to the boy’s side. “What happened?” he demanded, eyes scanning the broken body.

“Minotaur,” Castor said shortly. He swallowed before adding, softer: “And… his mother. She didn’t make it.”

Will’s face tightened, but his hands moved quickly, glowing with Apollo’s light as he began to check the boy’s wounds.

Castor stepped back, his arms suddenly heavy with the absence of the child. He wiped rain from his face, though it did nothing to clear the image burned into his mind, the boy’s limp tail, his mother’s still body in the mud.

For all his years at camp, for all the half-bloods he’d seen stumble in from the wild, he had never seen anyone like this. Not with furred ears, not with a tail, not this fragile and broken and strange.

He didn’t know what kind of god had made this boy. Only that Castor had carried him alive across the border.

And somehow, that felt important.

-‐----------

The infirmary smelled of herbs and clean linen, a sharp contrast to the storm outside. Castor stood near the wall, rain still dripping from his hair, as Will Solace bent over the strange boy.

Light glowed faintly from Will’s hands as he checked the boy’s chest, his cracked ribs, the mangled tail. “He’s a mess,” Will muttered. “I don’t know how he’s still breathing.”

The boy whimpered faintly in his sleep. His ears twitched against the pillow, flattened with pain. Blood had dried dark in the fur, streaked down his temple. His tail shuddered once before going limp again.

Castor’s stomach twisted.

Other Apollo campers hurried in with bowls of water, bandages, jars of salve. They moved efficiently, but their eyes kept flicking toward the boy’s ears, his tail. One whispered, “Are those real?” Another, quieter: “Is he even human?”

“Quiet,” Will snapped, sharper than usual. He pressed glowing hands to the boy’s side, coaxing his breathing steadier. “He’s alive. That’s all that matters.”

Castor crossed his arms, watching. He’d thought the same questions when he first saw the ears, but now, standing here, seeing how small the boy looked curled under the blanket, he felt only a tug of protectiveness.

This was no monster. This was a child.

One who had just lost his mother in the mud.

The boy shivered, claws flexing weakly against the blanket. Castor’s ears caught the softest sound, not quite a word, more a broken chirp, a mew of pain or fear.

Will leaned closer, voice low. “Easy. You’re safe now.”

Castor shifted, uncomfortable with how much that little noise had clawed at his chest. He glanced to the doorway, where a small crowd of campers had gathered. Hermes kids, Athena kids, even a few from Ares, whispering and pointing.

“Cat-boy,” someone murmured. “Did you see his tail?”

“He killed the Minotaur,” another hissed back. “I swear I saw it.”

"Looks more like the Minotaur nearly killed him.”

A ripple of laughter spread, uneasy, half-curious, half-cruel.

Castor’s jaw tightened. He stepped forward, blocking the view of the cot. “Clear out,” he ordered. “Give him space.”

The crowd grumbled but broke apart, the whispers fading.

When Castor looked back, the boy had gone still again. His breathing was shallow, but steadier under Will’s glowing hands. His ears remained plastered flat, his tail curled awkwardly to one side, bent under the blankets.

For all the strangeness, he was just a kid. A half-blood. One of them.

And Castor would make sure the camp remembered that