In some ways, the camp hadn't changed. But you couldn't see the war by looking

at the buildings or the fields. You could see it in the faces of the demigods

and satyrs and naiads coming up the hill.

 

There weren't as many at camp as four summers ago. Some had left and never come

back. Some had died fighting. Others — we tried not to talk about them — had

gone over to the enemy.

 

The ones who were still here were battle-hardened and weary. There was little

laughter at camp these days. Even the Hermes cabin didn't play so many pranks.

It's hard to enjoy practical jokes when your whole life feels like one.

 

Chiron galloped into the pavilion first, which was easy for him since he's a

white stallion from the waist down. His beard had grown wilder over the summer.

He wore a green T-shirt that said MY OTHER CAR IS A CENTAUR and a bow slung over

his back.

 

"Percy!" he said. "Thank the gods. But where . . ."

 

Annabeth ran in right behind him, and I'll admit my heart did a little relay

race in my chest when I saw her. It's not that she tried to look good. We'd been

doing so many combat missions lately, she hardly brushed her curly blond hair

anymore, and she didn't care what clothes she was wearing — usually the same old

orange camp T-shirt and jeans, and once in a while her bronze armor. Her eyes