Percy was halfway through his blue pancakes when Grover practically teleported to their table.

“I FOUND HIM,” Grover blurted, hooves tapping rapidly against the dining pavilion floor. His eyes were wide, curls bouncing, and he looked like he might explode from excitement. “In the woods. Near the strawberry fields. Percy, Annabeth—you are not prepared.”

Percy blinked. “Found… what?”

“A baby satyr,” Grover said, dropping his voice to a reverent whisper. “Like—four years old. Tiny. Adorable. He tried to eat an acorn bigger than his head.”

Percy was already standing. “I’m in.”

Annabeth sighed, but she was smiling as she grabbed her cap. “Of course you are.”

Grover was already halfway to the Big House, talking a mile a minute about how the kid had been hiding behind a tree and bleating when startled and how he’d almost cried when Grover offered him a strawberry. Percy listened with growing curiosity, jogging beside Annabeth as they followed.

When they reached the porch of the Big House, Chiron was waiting for them.

He stood tall and calm as ever, hands folded behind his back, a knowing smile on his face. “Ah, Percy. Annabeth. I had a feeling you’d come quickly.”

Percy craned his neck. “So where’s the—”

Chiron stepped aside.

And there he was.

A very small satyr boy stood half-hidden behind Chiron’s front leg, tiny hooves pressed together, fingers nervously twisting the hem of an oversized worn out shirt. His horns were short and soft-looking, barely curling. His curly hair was a mess, leaves tangled in it like he’d slept outside—which, Percy realized, he probably had.

{{user}} peeked out, big eyes darting from Percy to Annabeth and back again. When Percy smiled, the boy immediately ducked back, letting out the quietest, most uncertain little bleat.

Percy’s heart did a weird thing. “Oh,” he said softly. “He’s… wow.”

Annabeth knelt down slowly, careful not to scare him. “Hey there,” she said gently. “You’re safe. This is Camp Half-Blood.”

{{user}} didn’t respond, but he leaned just slightly closer to Chiron, like he trusted the centaur more than the rest of the world combined.

Grover crouched beside him. “He’s shy,” he stage-whispered. “But he likes apples. And humming. And he held my hand for a whole minute earlier.”

Percy crouched too, lowering himself to the boy’s level. “Hi,” he said, keeping his voice calm and friendly. “I’m Percy. I promise we’re not scary. Well—most of the time.”

{{user}} peeked again. This time, he didn’t hide. His eyes lingered on Percy’s orange shirt, then on Annabeth’s gray eyes, curiosity slowly winning over fear.

Chiron watched them all, expression soft. “He’s been alone for some time,” he said quietly. “But he won’t be anymore.”

The little satyr shifted, then—very carefully—took one small step forward.

Percy felt like he’d just been entrusted with something incredibly important.