something even worse. I followed him into this grove, to the base of a big elm

tree. I was about to summon some dryads to help me capture him when he turned

and . . ."

 

Grover swallowed. "Percy, his face. I couldn't make out his face because it kept

shifting. Just looking at him made me sleepy. I said, 'What are you doing?' He

said, 'Just having a look around. You should always scout a battlefield before

the battle.' I said something really smart like, 'This forest is under my

protection. You won't start any battles here!' And he laughed. He said, 'You're

lucky I'm saving my energy for the main event, little satyr. I'll just grant you

a short nap. Pleasant dreams.' And that's the last thing I remember."

 

Nico exhaled. "Grover, you met Morpheus, the God of Dreams. You're lucky you

ever woke up."

 

"Two months," Grover moaned. "He put me to sleep for two months!"

 

I tried to wrap my mind around what this meant. Now it made sense why we hadn't

been able to contact Grover all this time.

 

"Why didn't the nymphs try to wake you?" I asked.

 

Grover shrugged. "Most nymphs aren't good with time. Two months for a tree —

that's nothing. They probably didn't think anything was wrong."