Z Private Tutoring with Memory

[font=georgia]Bullseye.

Bullseye. Bullseye. Bullseye. It was getting so incredibly dull, so incomprehensibly bland. Setting his golden bow down with a sigh escaping his lips, an Apollo camper dropped onto a nearby log, not bothering to get his arrows. He came to camp only a few hours ago, in time for lunch, and a heck of a lot of chaos. Well, he thought it was chaos. The other campers seemed to find it normal that horses magically sprung wings, the climbing wall spit lava, and the whole camp was protected by an enchanted pine tree. Normal? Apparently. The tall teenager gazed up at the stormy grey sky, watching the lightning flash and hearing the thunder rumble. Another thing; no rain unless Mr. D said so. No snow, no hail, no lightning. How boring. He needed an adventure .

It was bad enough having ADD, and the fact that everyone was too busy to give him a tour meant that he had to figure the camp out by himself. Ivan learned the basics pretty quickly; the weapons were real, the lava was real, and he wasn't dreaming. It was hard to convince himself that. All his life, stuck in an orphanage, running away from the police for a crime he couldn't remember committing. Hard beatings and strict rules. What was here? Rules. Danger. The thirteen year old loved it here. And not only that; he actually felt like he belonged here. He had a billion other half-brothers and sisters that were incredibly cool, and all the campers here all had something in common with him. ADD, dyslexia, godly parents, and special talents. Still, he didn't start a proper tour until tomorrow, so right now he was shooting gold-tipped arrows at targets just to pass the time. Son of the Sun God. Waaay epic. His dad drove a bunch of flaming horse across the sky every day. Ivan could heal, sing, and write music much better than he imagined. But he was BORED.

Fingering one of the points with his finger, the teenager frowned and slung his quiver around his shoulder, hooking a finger around the bow. The weapon itself was awesome; a gift from his dad, apparently. It was just the right weight, and the bowstring seemed to be made out of waterproof fleece hair. It's ivory curve was engraved with icons of the sun, all in winding paths or gold that twisted around it. Not only that, but it could transform, too. If he touched it in a certain way - the face of the sun, or something, it would turn into dagger. If he twisted it clockwise, it would transform into a key. The brown-eyed teenager hadn't tried twisting it counterclockwise, and for some reason, he didn't want to try. Now, forgetting which way he was supposed to go, Ivan drifted toward a hill, where he guessed he would get a better view of the camp, so he could find his way around. His cabin wouldn't be hard to miss even in the pouring rain; it was made out of solid gold. The demigod heard the rain getting louder as he neared the pine tree, the dragon that guarded it chasing off a couple of monsters far away. Breaking through the border, he was blasted with cruel gusts of icey wind and drops or rain that fell so hard it stung his skin and made his shirt stick flat against his skin. Putting up his arms to brace himself against the wind, the thirteen-year old suddenly felt glad for the whole 'Mr. D controls the weather here' thing. Looking up and away from the camp, he expected to see the fields rolling endlessly away, flooded by rainwater. He expected to see trees dotting the landscape, creaking against the wind. He didn't see that.

Standing there, under the tree, was a coal-black wolf. It looked quite majestic, almost glowing. And while it's fur was blowing in the wind, it seemed to remain dry. The strangest thing, though, is that it's eyes were purple . What. The. Heck. Oh, great. A magic wolf, Ivan thought, pinching himself so hard that tears of pain sprang into his eyes. Real. Perfect. The demigod stood there, wondering what to do. He didn't want to shoot it, but he wasn't sure if he should just walk away. The wolf seemed to be protecting something, so it might even be yet another guardian of the tree. Well, do something, the Apollo camper told himself, bitterly imagining himself walking up to the wolf and saying, Hey, this is like, camp grounds. I'd really like you to go away. Sorry for the inconvenience. Taking a couple of steps forward, a sight met his eyes that made him gasp. She was a human, for sure. A girl lay crumpled on the ground, bleeding. She was holding a tattered leather-bound book to her chest, and even with the distance between them and the pouring rain, Ivan could see that is was the girl that the wolf was protecting. Instantly, Ivan himself began to feel a need to get her to safety- she was obviously a demigod. This girl could even be his half-sister. Without a moment's hesitation, the thirteen-year old began to struggle towards her, the wolf suddenly being one of his smaller worries. Pushing himself against the wind, the Apollo camper reached the demigod, kneeling beside her. Without thinking, or indeed knowing what he was doing, he stretched an arm out and held it over her wounds, waving it slightly. He began to chant things in Ancient Greek, half-understanding what he was saying. Something about stemming blood so it didn't flow away. When he pulled his hand back, the bleeding seemed to have stopped, but not much else. Maybe he should practice healing back in camp- he saw one of his half-brothers casually repair a broken bone with only a wave of his hand and a couple of magic words.

Now, he looked up at the wolf and saw it had blood on it's muzzle. Holy Poseidon, this was bad. Hopefully he would escape before it ripped him to shreds, but the chances of that happening now looked like it was more likely for him to get an Aphrodite camper as a girlfriend, even with his dagger. So before he died Ivan decided to examine the girl's face, and found another surprise. The demigod wasn't sleeping or unconscious, as he had presumed; it seemed like she was only resting the whole time. But something deep inside him told him that right now wasn't a good time to be embarrassed. "Hey, are you alright?" he asked, giving a mental faceplam to himself. He imagined her answer, Oh, yeah. I was just bleeding to death here. S'alright., and sighed, shifting the girl so that her head rested on his lap. Should he carry her to camp? Or would that hurt too much, even with the bleeding stopped? Ivan also wanted to ask about the notebook, but he pushed that thought aside almost immediately; she was dying, for crying out loud. The thirteen year old could feel her shivering against his chest, and she looked incredibly thin; Ivan could feel the bones in her wrist. This could be his sister... Ivan bit his lip, starting to feel overlyprotective over her. Right now, the wolf could take him; anything, just to let the girl live.

Anything.