Bring It On, Pinecone Face!

Mythologically Speaking, If There's Anything I Hate Worse Than Trios Of Old Ladies, It's Bulls. Last Summer, I Fought The Minotaur On Top Of Half-blood Hill. This Time What I Saw Up There Was Even Worse: Two Bulls. And Not Just Regular Bulls - Bronze Ones The Size Of Elephants. And Even That Wasn't Bad Enough. Naturally They Had To Breathe Fire, Too.

So What If They Were In Tartarus? So What If They Stood A Slim Chance Of Surviving? He Was So Glad That They Were Together, He Had The Ridiculous Urge To Smile.

My Eighth Grade Teacher, Mrs. Pabst, Had Done Her Master's Thesis On Tolkien. She Showed Me How The Trilogy Was Patterned After Norse Mythology. She Was Also The First Person To Encourage Me To Submit Stories For Publication. The Idea Of Writing A Fantasy Based On Myths Never Left Me, And Many Years Later, This Would Lead Me To Write Percy Jackson.

Can We Just Call Them Storm Spirits?” Leo Asked. “venti Makes Them Sound Like Evil Espresso Drinks.

You Sure About This?" I Asked Thalia. She Turned To Me. "amaltheia Leads Me To Good Things. The Last Time She Appeared, She Led Me To You." The Compliment Warmed Me Like A Cup Of Hot Chocolate. I'm A Sucker That Way. Thalia Can Flash Those Blue Eyes, Give Me One Kind Word, And She Can Get Me To Do Pretty Much Whatever.