As Lily walked the wooded trail she recalled how her dad had tried to delay bringing her here to this place called Camp Halfblood and how she was sure that it was her gran who caused his toilet to become a geyser and she giggled remembering how he’d come out of his room sputtering and demanded she get ready to go. He looked like a survivor of drowning his long blond hair a mess and dripping along with his clothing. Then there was the trip here with him sulking because he couldn’t get his way, something he was so used to receiving. Lucky for her that he calmed and made peace with things so they could have a touching father daughter chat. He was repetitive but he always was when he was emotional; she thought it was because he so often had used her as his anchor when he thought the world was against him and now he couldn’t.

He had played her a song he’d written just for her using the Martin D-41 he’d bought her for her birthday which while a lovely instrument she thought he’d been extravagant as usual when it came to her like her eventing mount Summer’s Dream who’d cost 175,000 and she’d had to spend 5 weeks training so she wouldn’t be riding a jumpy purebreed. The song she had made him promise to put on his next album and as an acoustic saying she knew he’d written it for her and that the song was therefore her’s and she wanted to share it with his fans; it was tough being the only family of a self absorbed rockstar but she knew how to manipulate him so well.

Pausing on her hike Lily looked around herself wondering just how far she’d have to walk before she found the Camp then she saw she was already there or at least near because she saw a group walking near her so she ran to catch up her nearly 50 pound pack and guitar bouncing on her back.