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 Four
Dear diary (aka that diary that I'll probably pretend I don't care about, but actually I did)
Well, it's official: I hate hiking in the snow. I used to think it would be fun and relaxing, you know, like a survival reality show, but with more demigods, monsters, and less reality show. But let me tell you, it made me seriously reconsider, though maybe I should have started with the fact that following Jason, who like most of the group has no idea how to travel or where we were going through these snowy forests, which actually looks like Canada with a bad attitude, was a bad idea.
A few hours ago, we all got sidetracked or teleported from the path we'd decided on thanks to getting lost in a snowstorm (I'm not sure how yet; and we're working on the "how" part) to a strange forest full of trees that seem to be about to start gossiping at any moment.
Seriously, there are some trees with huge, pale trunks adorned with strange faces carved into them. Imagine the look your grandmother gives you when you tell her that you dropped out of college to become a professional video game player; Multiply that by a thousand and you get an idea of what these trees are like. I almost expected to be barked at for being poorly dressed in the middle of this winter wonderland, but that would be too cliché, right?
So there we were, trying to figure out where the rest of the Amazons and the Hunters of Artemis were, and more importantly, where were we?, because you know, this is my life now, wandering through frozen forests looking for missing people, while Jason basically leads our band of demigods, because I refused to be the leader and for some reason a lot of people are upset that a huntress does it, so Jason was the default choice. But honestly, his sense of direction is no better than mine on dry land and without a map, which is saying something.
And now, after what seems like twelve years of walking through this snow-soaked Narnia, we've lost track. Hunters who are upset with us say it's because of the deep snow, the icy wind, and our lack of survival skills in the frozen forests, but I think it's mainly because humans (and half-bloods alike) can't survive more than an hour without snacks. Trust me, I'm a snack connoisseur.
Speaking of which, we have run out of food. We had our last glorious "wolf stew" feast in the morning, courtesy of the giant wolves we shot down two days ago (seriously, I should get a prize for that, or at least a pizza). But now, all we've managed to get are a few wild fruits we find here and there. They're like little berries that could actually be toxic. It's as if the forest is playing a tasteless joke on us: "Hey, here's a dangerous berry to snack on. Enjoy your meal!" I miss pizza. I miss the fat, the taste, and ah yes, I miss not feeling like I'm going to pass out from hunger.
Everyone tries to be brave, but next to these rare trees the atmosphere is quite gloomy. I can see it in his eyes. We all want to find the Amazons, but we also want to stop somewhere and eat as if we had survived a shipwreck. Until we manage to find the missing Amazons and Hunters, I guess we're all in survival mode, thinking about whether these strange trees will turn out to be friendly or if they're just waiting for an opportunity to catch us.
We decided to camp among these peculiar trees, hoping that their large size would somehow protect us from the intense cold that cuts through the air like a thousand blades. I can't say I felt very good about it; I mean, we're literally camping among trees with faces! It's like your creepy uncle is watching you sleep (and I'm not talking about Uncle Hades); it is fundamentally incorrect. Also, the wind howling around us sounded suspiciously similar to whispers, and I have a bad hunch about the whole place.
As evening began to fall and darkness covered this icy realm, I noticed how some of my companions cast wary glances at the trees (as if they were wishing they would turn back into normal old logs). I tried to lighten the mood by telling a few jokes about "ghost wood," but most of them didn't work. Apparently, when you're half-starved and frozen, humor isn't at the top of your survival list. Who would have thought?
So here I am, writing this post, feeling more and more restless. We're surrounded by gigantic trees that look like they're about to explode in the scariest animated short film you've ever seen, like a scene from a horror movie to be avoided at all costs. Jason keeps talking about "standing guard" with our trusty divine weapons, but honestly, I think any creature lurking in these forests would be too disappointed by our current situation to bother to eat anything.
In the meantime, I wonder if I'll ever try pizza again or just die here, among the haunted trees of Canada.
Well, if I die, at least let the epitaph read, "Here lies the incredible son of Poseidon, Percy Jackson... he died tragically, still dreaming of a slice of pizza"
Until next time, Percy.
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