I don't own Percy Jackson, it belongs to Rick Riordan and A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thones belongs to George R. R. Martin, as well as any other items that appear here, credits to their respective creators
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"Percy and Company in the True North" will basically be told from the diary/logbook of everyone's favorite sarcastic son of the sea, Percy Jackson.
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Percy Jackson's Diary: Entry No. 3
Date: Who knows? Timing is just a suggestion, isn't it?
Well, here we are again, folks, and no, this time I didn't get to rant about my mom's cooking or divine strategies for making the perfect cheeseburger. No, no, we're deep in a snowy desert that looks suspiciously like a bad vacation destination in Canada. Spoiler alert: I like warm, sandy holidays with the tropical sea breeze, thank you very much.
Picture this: The last thing you remember is that you were munching on a potato chip or planning your next glorious adventure of eating something, and suddenly, bam!, you're enveloped in a ridiculously frigid landscape...
It's as if an ice-covered mountain had gotten mad at us for an unknown reason and decided that we needed a serious change of attitude. Not only do the mountains shine like the world's largest ice sculpture, but the forest has been strangely silent since dawn... except for the occasional rustle of snow or the sound of our collective complaints.
My travel companions? A delicious mix of Roman and Greek demigods, the ever-persistent Amazon warriors, hunters, and my friend Jason who is still learning to relax (and who sports a confused "why are we here?" look that rivals mine). Today's mission? Hunting the other Amazons and hunters that our Greek campers 'casually' mentioned, as if we hadn't all heard it from their incessant chatter about how wonderful and amazing some of the Amazons are (I may share a similar opinion, but it's the principles, you know?).
Of course, this small expedition was mainly the result of the incessant pressure of the Amazons and hunters of our party (especially the last ones), who were determined to recover their lost sisters as if they were lost cubs. It would have been so bad if the Amazons and some demigoddesses hadn't decided that, in order to succeed on a hike in icy conditions, the rest of us had to dress appropriately. Apparently, wolf skins make great pieces of clothing! Who would have thought? But that wasn't exactly the problem, so I had the lovely task of explaining to the girls that I look better in jeans or shorts than anything a giant wolf could provide.
"Oh, Percy," said some Amazons and demigoddesses with their eyes shining with determination. We have to find the others! You'll look magnificent wearing this skin!
Magnificent. MAYBE. But my reflection in the frozen stream said otherwise...
So... as we set out, trudging through the snow, I thought I glimpsed a glimmer of hope: maybe we would find the other Amazons and they would prepare something for me that didn't involve me wiping my face with the skin of another creature. Let's be clear: I may be a demigod, but fashion has its limits for me. I swear, fashion for me is like... every step a person can take when climbing Mount Everest with a backpack full of bricks... So if I stumble upon this ice once again, I'm going to be more than "magnificent"; I'm going to be a mortified pancake.
Anyway... the landscape is still beautiful everywhere we look, in that sadistic style that makes you say: "Hey, look at what a frozen wonder!" Trees, tall and majestic, covered in bright chunks of frost. It was a winter wonderland, without wonder and upside down on the scale of joy.
At best, we looked like a group of lost hikers trying to survive a retreat at a hostel that had gone horribly wrong. Jason had been persuaded to lead our expedition, mainly because I mentioned that he had "good orienteering skills," which actually meant that he only got lost half as often as the rest of us. I'm a son of the sea and I'm a walking GPS there, not here! I need a map!.
"I swear if we follow this path," Jason said, pointing to the dense pine forest, "we'll find them," and he tried to look as confident as possible and pretend that he did not notice the looks of the Amazons and hunters.
And I thought, "This is the PR move of the century."
As we advanced, silence enveloped us. It seemed as if the cold breath of the forest threatened to swallow us whole. Then again, what's a moment of calm in a demigod's life without the nagging sense that something monstrous lurks closer? I swear I could almost hear Jason's thoughts cursing us again. "Why can't life just be a DVD movie where you pause for a bite to eat and continue on without fear of being eaten?"
Returning to our Winter Odyssey, the hours passed and, after a lot of walking and watching a bit of drama (Arty's blessing: so far no one had been chased by a giant bear out of nowhere... at least not yet), we come across some faint footprints in the snow. We huddled around them and examined them as if they were the holy grail of lost demigods, because, you know, finding footprints in one in the snow is what we were all hoping to find.
"Do you think this is from any of us?" I asked, squinting at the trail.
"It could be," one of the Greek campers said, scratching his head before any of the huntresses could say anything "Or a local tribe whose Christmas party we want to avoid.
I laughed. "Great. A certified sign that says 'dinner is served' and we aren't on the guest list. Does anyone know how to say 'I'm passing through' in grunts?"
Well, we didn't find the other Amazons or the Huntresses, but we did find something: a trail. It wasn't much, but sometimes, a trail is enough to give you hope, or at least to help you not make a fool of yourself while you're lost in the frozen desert. I just hope it doesn't lead us straight into a monster-infested bush or, worse, an army of snowmen.
I say goodbye before this diary mysteriously transforms into an SOS signal or Percy's only register "Lost in a Winter Wonderland" Jackson. Hopefully the next time we are teleported somewhere it will be soon and we can go to the warm beach.
—Percy Jackson, future master of survival in the local wilderness (no).
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