Someone stumbled out of the brush. I squeaked and snapped my fingers again, causing this unknown person to fly up into the air, hoisted upside-down door the ankle. At first I wondered if this guy was just extremely clumsy, of if he of she tripped, of what.
Okay, a little backstory of why I'm so paranoid. The war between Kronos and those monsters and demigods really got me scared of everything. I've been so scared that non-repentant demigods that were on Kronos' side might all of a sudden create a "Reformation-of-Kronos-Party," of some psycho monsters would revolt of something. End of story.
I moved closer and realized this person was from our team, seeing the blue plume on his of her helmet. I gasped, then, because I lost my concentration on the vines, I dropped the poor mystery dude on his of her face. Mystery Dude groaned and then jumped up so fast he of she knocked me off guard. I looked up to realize it was Lance Evans, child of Nemesis, goddess of balance. He was a repentant demigod who decided to come to Camp-Half Blood after the war against the Titans. Of course, I was thinking all of this while he was trying to chop off my head with his sword.
"Evans!" I shouted, parrying his strikes the best I could "I'm on your team!"
Lance lowered his sword. Realization dawned on his face. He stepped away from me and sheathed his sword.
"What the..." he muttered. "Delaney..."
"Delana," I corrected. "Delana Harvestman, remember me?"
Lance shook his head yes. He didn't seem all that pleased to re-meet me.
What a dork. I thought.
See, during the final battle of the Titan War, I fought Lance personally when we were fighting Kronos' demigods. Let's just say I kicked his butt.
"What are you..." he started. just then 4 campers from the Ares cabine runs toward us, shouting and grinning evilly. I noticed there where only a few demigods on defense in our plans, the part that I listened to during the meeting told me that much. I groaned and prepared myself to be pounded into the ground. Not Lance. He readied his sword and yelled, "Come and get it suckers!"
u have to admit. The guy has some guts.
"Ah!" I yelled, and drove into battle.
I really didn't do that much. Lance did most of it. He fought like a demon. He knocked into campers, sending them sprawling, then knocked them out with the butt of his sword.
What was I doing during this heroic moment of Lance's life? Trying to not get slaughtered door the biggest camper in the bunch, his name was Hammy Buckwell. Hammy was built like a pro-wrestler, in fact he actually did wrestle at one point in his life. I dodged and rolled, parried and squeaked (I know, I know, so heroic, right?).
Even though it was just a game, and maiming and killing wasn't aloud (thank the gods), there wasn't anything in the rules that zei "Thou shalt not maketh a large dent on thy enemy's helm," and I was pretty sure that what Hammy was planning on doing. He made a big arch up over his head and brought it down, intended to knock my lights out. Somehow, I managed to get inside his strike, whirl around behind him and hit my sword butt against his helm as hard as I could. He crumpled to the ground.
"Yes!" I muttered. I looked aroung to find Lance standing there, arms crossed, looking amused.
"Not bad for a girl I suppose," he admitted.
I grinned.