Daughter of Wine

Callida

As we trudge through the woods, the sun starts to set. The camp's weather is magically controlled, so it's not freezing and snowing like the rest of Long Island, but I can still tell it's late December. In the shadows of the huge oak trees, the air is cold and damp. The mossy ground squishes under our feet. I'm tempted to summon fire, but the nymphs in the woods hate it, and I'm not in the mood to be yelled at by more dryads.

It's Christmas Eve. I can't believe it's actually here. I've been keeping myself so busy that I hadn't noticed the weeks passing. My days are crammed with substitute teaching training classes, capturing flags, herding the other Dionysus kids to classes, and spending every moment of free time with Leo in the Bunker. I don't know why I feel such a pull to go and join him and hang out with him, but I enjoy it. He's been so serious working on the ship, and I think he enjoys my company. I try to bring some life and joy into the Bunker for him so that he doesn't feel so alone in there. And I like spending time with Leo. We have a good time together. 

He does keep pranking me, though. He left carne asada tacos in a pair of welding gloves I had been using, switched my water with eggnog, and he keeps dressing up as some character he named Taco Claus and jumping out at me from various hiding places. It's funny, and frankly adorable, but I'm stressed enough without having to worry about when the next Taco-Claus attack will come.

I know he's trying to relieve stress himself. He cares so much about the Argo II. He's told me multiple times that he's never cared so much about a project before, and he keeps getting new ideas to make it even better. It has to be done by June, and while it seems a long time away, I know we're barely going to make the deadline as it is. Even with the entire Hephaestus cabin helping him, constructing a magic flying warship is a huge task. According to Leo, "it makes launching a NASA spaceship look easy."

None of it is going to happen if the combustion chamber explodes. It's game over. No ship, no Bunker Nine, no quest. And Leo would one-hundred percent blame himself. And maybe Windex.

Jason kneels at the base of a stream. "Do those look like table tracks?"

"Or a raccoon." Leo suggests.

Jason frowns. "With no toes?"

"Piper," Leo asks. "What do you think?"

Piper sighs. "Just because I'm Native American doesn't mean I can track furniture through the wilderness." 

I deepen my voice. "Yes, kemosabe, a three-legged table passed this way an hour ago." 

Piper chokes back a laugh. 

"Okay, jeez." Leo says. "Calli? What do you think?"

I sigh and crouch down to look. Square indentations in the mud, two lines of indents, with a third making indents down the middle. "It's probably a three legged table." I decide. "Which means Buford went across this stream."

Suddenly, the water gurgles, and a girl in a shimmering blue dress rises to the surface. She has stringy green hair, blue lips, and pale skin, so she looks like a drowning victim. Her eyes are wide with alarm. "Could you be any louder?" She hisses. "They'll hear you!"

"Are you a naiad?" Leo asks, seemingly shocked. I punch him in the shoulder, letting him know it's a stupid question.

"Shhh! They'll kill us all! They're right over there!" She points behind her into the trees on the other side of the stream. Unfortunately, that's the direction that Buford seems to have walked.

"Okay," Piper says gently, kneeling next to the water. "We appreciate the warning. What's your name?"

The naiad looks terrified, but Piper's voice is powerful.