Characters: Thalia, Luke, Annabeth (mentions of Jason)
Summary: Down the path the three of them walk in the quiet morning as thunder walks above them.
Pairings: none mentioned
Warnings/Spoilers: none.. OH! The Lost Hero? brief though.
Timeline: Pre-series
Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns the Percy Jackson series.

* again short, sorry 0.o, reviews are hailed as gods! :)

-Gone Astray-

It was the last straw. Completely and utterly. Jason, her brother, the only person that tied her to her family – dead. Now Thalia bears no connection to her family – no good reason for her to stay anymore. At least that's what she keeps reminding herself that anyway. Anything that will reinforce her decision to go. The further away the better.

"We should probably move again. You know. It won't be long until some monster catches our trail for a second time tonight." Thalia uses most influential voice she can muster with her face half covered in some putrid slime from the most recent addition of monster fatalities. She's pretty sure that her shoes are completely ruined and cringes at the thought of what the slimy stuff is made out of as she reaches back to squeeze the rest of it out of her dishevelled hair. She can't even imagine what she looks like right now, she must be unrecognisable.

"We're gonna be okay though, right?" A small and rather timid voice from below her chirps up - tired yet strung with a determination so unusual for a child. Their little soldier. Annabeth is clinging onto the dagger that Luke gave her for dear life – her knuckles are bleached white from the strain to little fingers. Thalia frowns a little and reaches a monster guck covered hand down to the blonde haired girls head – twisting and knotting her own fingers with the locks of golden.

"I don-"

"-Sure we are little trooper."

Thalia manages to shoot a foul look in Luke's direction but he just smirks in response. Water under the bridge.

"But, I do agree with Thals. But the weather's been a bit unpredictable lately..." Right on cue a crack of thunder claps above them and Annabeth whimpers, fisting a small hand in Luke's stained shirt.

Ever since she had run away from home, the weather had been a little fanatical – she had to agree with him there. A silent night, not a cloud in the sky and the sudden rumble of thunder – almost angry sounding would rouse them from their slumber.

Wherever she goes the thunder will follow.

Down the path the three of them walk in the quiet morning as thunder walks above them.