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Thalia looked to the stars as the moon rose on the horizon.
For months now, Olympus had been silent with only the barest messages from Artemis sneaking out past Zeus’s orders. Artemis was guiding them towards something now, though she evidently could not say what. Towards Percy, Thalia hoped.
First came the Oracle’s recitation of the next Great Prophecy the day the last one ended.
For a few weeks, it had really seemed like the mythic world was going to get better. Kids were getting claimed, Percy was bringing in new Apollo and Hermes kids by the half dozen. The gods were present.
And then, just as quickly as the gods had arrived, they vanished. Answered prayers became radio silence, and now Percy had been taken from Cabin 3 in the dead of night. The Hero of Olympus was simply gone without a trace, his bag still at the foot of his bed, his sneakers kicked off near the dresser.
Thalia had lost so many people over the years. First…no, she still could not bear to think of him. She had lost her mother, then she had lost Luke twice. In the Battle of Manhattan, she had lost so many brave Hunters, almost all of them older than she could imagine. So many demigods had died. So many nature spirits and centaurs and friends.
She and Annabeth had been so sure they were going to lose Percy to the war, but they hadn’t, and Thalia couldn’t bear to lose him now that he was finally allowed to live.
Grover said Percy was alive, and Thalia could only pray to Artemis and Poseidon and Hestia that he would stay that way until she could find him.
Thalia led the Hunters across the winter landscape, fresh snow crunching underfoot as she raised her bow at the sound of a breaking twig.
A hare hopped away, and she lowered her bow, sighing.
“Set up camp!” she called. “Phoebe, you and I will scout. I’ll go north. You head south. See if you can find any tracks.”
“Understood!”
Phoebe loped off, and Thalia wandered north as the rest of her girls set up camp for the night.
She mulled over Artemis’s last message: Look to your predecessors
Look to whom? Her parents? That seemed unlikely. Beryl Grace and Zeus had never been role models for anything. Look to the elder hunters? Thalia did that anyway. She may be the lieutenant, but she knew that she was nowhere near as wise or clever as half of her girls.
With a sigh, she crouched by a burbling stream, the water making her think of Percy. Gods, she hoped he was alright. Sometimes, she still felt guilty for dumping the prophecy on his shoulders, but she knew that in his place, her anger might have bested her.
Percy was good in a way that made her heart ache, remembering a toddler with wide eyes and a scarred lip. No, Thalia would not lose Percy, too. She would find him.
Dipping her canteen in the cold water, Thalia looked at the stars reflecting off the little ripples.
Despite their usual disdain for boys, Thalia knew that all of the Hunters were eager to find Percy. It had been hundreds of years since Artemis last held such respect for a man. Even Zoë had come to care for and respect Percy after only a few days.
Wait. Thalia almost dropped her canteen as she looked up at the stars.
The Huntress glittered in the night sky as she always did. Thalia’s heart ached, heavy in her chest as she looked to her predecessor.
Zoë’s constellation seemed to glow even brighter tonight, and, oddly, her position had changed.
Thalia looked to the surrounding constellations, and then she laughed, a grin twitching at her lips. “I see.”
The Huntress’s bow was drawn, but her arrow pointed south tonight. It normally pointed east.
Thalia capped her canteen and sent a prayer of thanks to Zoë, hoping the stars would hear her.
She jogged back to camp just as Phoebe came back into the clearing.
“Lieutenant!” Phoebe called, a glint in her eyes.
“What is it?”
“Wolf tracks. Lycaon’s pack, I believe.”
Thalia drew her silver hunting knife. “They must be hunting something” —or someone. “Pack it up. We move out now!”
There was a stifled grumble or two, but the Hunters were used to this life.
If the tracks were fresh, they had to move quickly before snowfall erased them.
Thalia watched her sisters move, one hand buried in the ruff of her own silver wolf companion. They were close. She could feel it.
Minutes later, they were off again, adrenaline humming in Thalia’s veins as they chased after the werewolf king.
Alas, Thalia had never had Percy’s penchant for prophecy.
At the end of this trail, they would indeed find the half-blood son of the Big Three, just not the one Thalia expected.