Annabeth was exhausted, lying in bed as snow fell outside among the hills of Camp, the Camp quiet and calm; tranquil for others, though deafeningly quiet for Annabeth.

She was having a wonderful rot session until someone walked through the door, you, letting in the cold air for a short moment before the door was closed again. You sat on the edge of the bed, shaking her shoulder a bit in a lazy attempt to get her to look at you.

“Annabeth?” You spoke, worried for your friend.