Would you know the real sea if you only knew the picture?

[artemiodes]

Later, she remembers that night only in bits and pieces. When the memories come to her, as they do for the rest of her life, it would only ever be in flashes - of smell (sex, and embers, and autumn), of color (blue-black of night, ice-white of moon, wild orange of fire and Francis’ hair), of taste and touch (rough leaves beneath feet, the

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[percy_jackson]

I was walking Mrs. O'Leary when something caught her attention. She sniffed the air, then let out a big WOOF! before bounding off ahead of me. I immediately had visions of the hellhound barging in on someone and scaring the living daylights out of him or her. With my luck, it would be Katniss. So I hollered, "Stop! Mrs. O'Leary! Heel!" And, when that didn't work, I raced after her. She appeared to be making for the waterfall.

I managed to keep her in sight before she stopped suddenly, and then did something I'd never seen her do before: she held back. I stopped in my tracks when I saw this. What on Earth would cause her to hold back. But she didn't have her hackles up. She didn't look afraid or territorial. She just stopped, and was staring into the waterfall area. "What is it, Mrs. O'Leary?" Whatever it was, I knew I had to look. I unsheathed my sword (the short one) and stepped into the clearing.

When I saw the woman, I ran forward immediately. "Holy Hades!" I breathed. I knew what blood looked like. I knew what it smelt like. And in the split second as I knelt by the woman's side, I knew that the blood wasn't hers. I couldn't see any open wounds that would cause it. And she was dressed...

Oh... Whoa.

Was she a god? What? No. I recognized Aphrodite on the Island even though she was from another Universe. This was no god I knew. But who was she? What had happened to her? Cautious, because though the blood in her hair might not be hers, she might still have put it there, I reached out a hand to gently touch the woman. "Excuse me? Miss? Are you all right?"

[artemiodes]

Under normal circumstances, the vision of a great dog bounding towards her in such a way would have made Camilla laugh like a girl, and coo, and coddle the creature until it raced off or its owner pulled it away. But these are not normal circumstances, no. The dog might have been a hellhound, even Cerberus himself, for the way her eyes go wide and her skin turns a shade paler still.

It is only a boy and his dog, she struggles to tell herself as reason and consciousness battle off the last vestiges of madness.

She tries to speak, to answer his question as calmly as she can, despite the way she trembles with tired and shock, and the way her feet feel full of glass. But strangely, no words come, and she stares at boy and dog, mute and uncomprehending.

[percy_jackson]

As she opens her mouth to speak, I feel a little trepidation. What if she's from ancient Greece. Would I understand the language? I could read ancient Greek back home, but I could also breathe underwater, and that ability had gone by the wayside thanks to the Island's stupid magic. I'm dreading the communication gap.

But as the woman has her mouth open, and as no words come out, I begin to realize something else is wrong. "Are you okay?" I said again. My frown deepened. "Can you speak?"

[artemiodes]

Camilla makes a soft scoffing sound, as though the answer were obvious - and it seems to be, until she tries to speak. But her question about who he is and what he is doing here never comes to her lips. The thought forms in her head, but the words won't follow.

It's a terrifying sensation.

She nods firmly, but then pauses and frowns, and with somewhat more trepidation, shakes her head.

[percy_jackson]

Okay, she's nodding, then she's shaking her head. Which means she understands me... but she can't speak. That can't be good. "Okay," I said, reaching out a hand. "I'm going to get you to a doctor. There's a clinic nearby, they can help you."

[artemiodes]

She looks with skeptical arched eyebrow at the hand, and then up at the boy, who looks terribly young, and awfully scrawny, and a far cry from the sort of person by whom one would wish to be rescued. But there is no one else about, and Camilla swiftly realizes that she has no other choice. She takes his hand delicately, wincing only a little as she stands. At least he looks harmless, even with such a great dog beside him.

[percy_jackson]

So, I led the woman back to the path. Mrs. O'Leary fell into step behind us, thankfully giving the woman space. It was a quiet walk, as the woman didn't say anything, of course. As we walked, though, I cast glances at what she was wearing. It was quite at odds with the fact that the woman understood English.

"Your, uh..." I nodded at her robe. "...clothes... look Greek."

[artemiodes]

Camilla winces slightly as she walks, every step torture to the roughed soles of her feet and her cramped, exhausted calves and thighs. They must have run for miles, and faster than they ever could in reality. For a second, she can even remember flying.

Despite her pain, she holds her head high, determined to hide her weakness from this boy and his dog. His question makes her snort quietly, and she nods once, a cool smile curving at her lips. Even if she could speak, she wouldn't tell him anything.