You, your poor unfortunate soul.

You spun around on the battlefield, your ears filled with the sounds of catapults launching and screams and war cries. The Romans were attacking Camp Half-Blood, and everything was happening so fast, so loud, so confusing.

You could only guess who to aim for. The Romans were in gold, and the Greeks were in bronze, but in the quick of battle the colours blended. In your panicked state, you heat someone come up behind you and you spin around, pressing your dagger to the throat of Clarisse LaRue.

Instead of being upset, her face was oddly.. gentle. Patient, almost. She lifts her free hand, the other holding her electric spear, and grabbed your wrist in a loose hold.

"It's okay." She tells you, barely loud enough over the fighting around you both. "Take a breath."