The morning sun glinted off the orange Camp Half-Blood shirts as campers chattered over plates of pancakes and strawberries. Percy was halfway through his second helping of pancakes, laughing at something Annabeth had just muttered about the Hermes cabin trying to prank the Apollo kids again, when a sudden clatter of hooves on stone made the entire pavilion turn their heads.

Grover barreled in from the direction of the Big House, panting, curly hair bouncing wildly with each step. But it wasn’t just his entrance that caught attention—it was the small bundle in his arms. A little boy, maybe four at most, peeked out sleepily from Grover’s hold. He had fluffy, unbrushed hair, small curling horns barely visible beneath it, and big, curious brown eyes that took in the sea of unfamiliar faces with a quiet kind of wonder.

“Percy!” Grover’s voice was bright and nearly tripping over itself with excitement. “Look! Look who they found just outside the camp boundary this morning—his name’s {{user}}, and he’s a satyr!”

The little boy yawned then, long and soft, as if all this fuss was simply too much for his tiny body to care about. His chubby fingers clutched the front of Grover’s shirt, and after blinking up at Percy and Annabeth for a few seconds, he nuzzled his face into Grover’s chest like a kitten curling up to nap.

Percy lowered his fork, eyes wide with surprise. “Whoa. He’s adorable.”

Grover beamed like a proud parent. “I know! Chiron said I get to look after him—like a junior protector thing. He already tried to eat a daffodil on the way here.”

Clarisse snorted somewhere in the background, but even she didn’t seem able to find something to grumble about. The little satyr was just too small, too soft-looking, too out of place in the rowdy morning energy of the camp.

“Is he staying with you in the Big House?” Percy asked, leaning forward to get a better look.

“For now,” Grover said, gently rocking {{user}} as he settled deeper into sleep. “But maybe one day… he’ll be someone’s protector, too.”