Wes stared. He really should be used to this by now but he didn't think he'd ever get used to it. In front of him stood three kids; one of them had a rasta cap on and walked with a limp, the second had blonde hair and carried a Yankees hat and a long knife, the third had green eyes and a sword.
As he watched, the boy in the rasta cap played a tune on his pipes and the trees seemed to shift. Three young women melted from the bark and Wes gasped.
First kids with weird glowing weapons, now women in trees. Wes didn't want to see more. He scrambled away, only to walk into an invisible object. Water snaked around his arms and legs and held him fast, like rope.
The girl with blonde hair appeared. "Who are you?" She asked, holding her knife against his throat. He flinched, expecting to get cut but the knife passed through him.
"He's-" the dark haired boy said. "He's mortal." The water lost it's shape and drenched Wes.
"I'm not a ghost if that's what you mean," Wes told them. "Unlike you."
"Ghost?" The boy in the rasta hat said. "We aren't ghosts. I can't even be a ghost."
"What are you then?"
"I'm a satyr!"
"You mean like a faun?" Wes asked.
The satyr bleated in indignation. "I'm greek!" He yelled.
Now Wes was even more confused. "Who are you people?" He asked.
"I'm Percy, this is Grover and Annabeth," the dark haired boy introduced them. "As Grover said, he's a satyr, and we're demigods."
"Right and I'm a minor god of truth," Wes told them rolling his eyes.
Grover sniffed. "You do smell kind of divine, more like a half-blood than a god though."
Wes turned and walked away. The three weirdos didn't follow him. "I can't deal with this anymore!" He yelled.