Late to the party as always, Mal, son of Haphaestus, who had been spending countless hours day and night tinkering in the workshop under the cabin, was pulled from that delicious toil by a series of happenings, all of them auditory in nature. First, His cabin mate and half-sister, Kellen's screams, -he stretched a blanket over her woven with celestial bronze wires that generated a soothing heat and, with some help from the cabin of the children of the god of sleep, blessed the fabric itself with enough Mist to ease even her troubled slumbers. He'd placed it around her shoulders after easing her into a seated position, advising her not to close her eyes, but also not to remove it until she felt she could face the day on her own strength. the next disturbance was the lightning bolt that rent the clear morning sky. He knew his Father's handiwork anywhere, that bolt had 'straight from the hand of Mr.-I'll-stuff-a-lightning bolt-up-your-nose himself' written on it, and everyone knew who crafted those mighty weapons for the deity. But with Camp Half Blood's mystically blessed weather, such a thing, as Chiron had undoubtedly said, was improbably, and it's occurrance had some sort of grave underpinnings. And speaking of that old horse-man, he's calling an assembly at the big house. Third incident. He'd intended to get there quicker, he really did, but there was a grove of Naiads and Nymphs along the way, and well, he was distracted. but get there he did, in time to hear the tail end of what had been said so far, which was enough to puzzle out the rest from what he'd already surmised himself as he stepped into the crowd of campers, hoping Kellen would make an appearance herself before too much longer.