campers were hiding.

 

Annabeth and I leaped off as soon as our pegasi's hooves touched the pavement.

Then Blackjack and Porkpie soared into the night sky.

 

Michael Yew ran up to us. He was definitely the shortest commando I'd ever seen.

He had a bandaged cut on his arm. His ferrety face was smeared with soot and his

quiver was almost empty, but he was smiling like he was having a great time.

 

"Glad you could join us," he said. "Where are the other reinforcements?"

 

"For now, we're it," I said.

 

"Then we're dead," he said.

 

"Y ou still have your flying chariot?" Annabeth asked.

 

"Nah," Michael said. "Left it at camp. I told Clarisse she could have it.

Whatever, you know? Not worth fighting about anymore. But she said it was too

late. We'd insulted her honor for the last time or some stupid thing."

 

"Least you tried," I said.

 

Michael shrugged. "Yeah, well, I called her some names when she said she still

wouldn't fight. I doubt that helped. Here come the uglies!"