There was something incredibly alluring about the way the dark waves washed upon the mossy shoreline, branding the sunkissed sand as a victim of the harsh current. Maybe it was the total serendipity that came hand in hand with the controlled ripples contorting the sea foam. Or perhaps it was the call of nature, heard within the aquamarine domain. Either way, Willow Wyanlow often found herself perched atop Camp Half-blood's ancient wooden dock, admiring the sea in all of it's glory.

  Usually, she unconsciously travelled towards the dock while the sun took it's time settiling behind the golden clouds. The sky would be painted several deep shades of pastel, clashing in a wonderous array of beautiful shades. It was breathtaking, truly.

  That's where thirteen year old Willow Wyanlow was situated when her path fortunately crossed with that of Percy Jackson, alterting the trajectory of both children's lives until the very end of time.

Willow was lounging carelessly atop the canoe dock, lying on her back, her dark hair sprawled across the wooden plain in sloppy swirls. The slight summer breeze nipped at bare skin of her legs and arms. It was mostly silent, besides the voices that drifted from the dining pavilion. It was dinner time, afterall. Willow never ate with her peers though, she found it grueling and extremely migraine inducing, trying to tune out the voices of all dozen and a half of her bunkmates.

Peace was something one seldom stumbled across while residing at Camp Halfblood, for there was an ungodly amount of campers during the summer session.

Willow's legs were bent at the knees, and a book was propped up against her tired limbs, the pages brushing against the cuffed edges of her denim shorts.

Harry Potter and The Prizoner of Azkaban: she'd been attempting to finish the novel since March, but she always ended up getting distracted. There, at the canoe lake, there was a minimal amount of distractions.

Until there wasn't.

The sound of greenery and falling leaves crunching undefoot alerted Willow that she was no longer alone, gazing wistfully at the sun which was stretching to peer from behind a dewy cluster of clouds.

Willow turned her head, pressing her cheek flush against the wooden boards, catching a glimpse of a scrawny boy standing akwardly in the clearing ahead of her, evidently suprised by her presence.

"Uh," The boy cleared his throat, he shifted akwardly on his feet. "Sorry, I'll go. Didn't think anyone would be out here right now."

Willow sat up instantly, pulling her knees to her chest. "You don't have to go. You can stay— if you want, I mean."

Willow wasn't one to enjoy the company of others. However, she didn't necessarily dislike it either, she was neutral on the concept of being alone— or not being alone. Either way, the burden of demigodliness would still be too much to bear. But, the boy's disheveled appearance made it clear he wasn't having the best of days. Maybe he needed some company. Or maybe not. There was no was no way of knowing unless she simply asked.

  Besides, something about the boy drew her in.

The boy grinned lopsidedly, "Cool."

He took a few tentative steps forward before dropping down quite a distance away from her, mirroring her akward posture.

Willow didn't recognize the boy, his tousled raven hair and bright green eyes were not familiar in the slightest. Willow figured he must have been new. The bare leather cord hanging around his neck made that evident.

The new boy must have seen her slightly furrowed eyebrows and caught onto her train of thought, because he stammered, "I'm Percy. Jackson. Percy Jackson."

Willow recalled her cabin mates speaking of the boy, how he killed a minotaur with it's own horn and then fell unconscious for days. He must've awaken.

"I'm Willow Wyanlow," The girl smiled at Percy Jackson, tilting her head slightly, causing a few stray curls to fall infront of her face, distorting the pool of kindness within her irises. "It's nice to meet you, Percy."

Percy returned the girls kind smile, fixing his gaze onto the book she held idily between her white-chipped-painted fingernails as to fight the terrible urges he faced warranting him to shamelessly admire the array of dark freckles dusting Willow's sunkissed cheeks. "What are you reading, Willow?"

Willow dropped her legs, letting them hang from the dock, the toe of her sneakers grazing the surface of the lake. "The third installment of Harry Potter."

Percy mimmicked her actions.

    He pursed his lips before saying something that completely suprised the girl, "I hate Harry Potter."

Willow switched her gaze onto the boy, taken aback by his controversial media opinions. "Excuse me."

"I said I hate Harry Potter."

"How could you say such a thing?" Willow gasped, pressing a hand to the orange material of the t-shirt sheilding her chest. "He's great."

"Wouldn't know," Percy admitted. "I've never even read the books."

"What?!"

"I just don't understand what is so intresting about a little british boy with a wand."

Willow laughed and absentmindedly kicked Percy's foot that was hanging from the dock beside hers.

"It's magic!" Willow informed a cackling Percy, "There's magic!"

Percy was overwhelmed with all of the mythical stories that apparently weren't so mythical, with all of the bullies who took to dunking his head in bowls of toilet water, with all of the lingering stares he drew by merely exsisting. And Willow was exactly the break he so badly craved. For she was the most normal person he'd met at the crazy camp.

She was a relief.

And little did he know, he was just what she craved as well. He was a beam of light guiding her from the darkness of her own mind.

And for many years to come, that fact would remain.

A meeting between two exhausted kids seeking relief within the peace of silence would turn into something much more.