Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Demigod Files

creek and certain cliffs and some really old trees, but the woods tended to shift around. I guess the nature spirits got restless. Paths changed. Trees moved.
    Then suddenly we were at the edge of a clearing. I knew we were in trouble when I saw the mountain of dirt.
    “Holy Hephaestus,” Beckendorf whispered. “The Ant Hill.”
    I wanted to back up and run. I’d never seen the Ant Hill before, but I’d heard stories from the older campers. The mound rose almost to the treetops—four stories at least. Its sides were riddled with tunnels, and crawling in and out were thousands of . . .
    “Myrmekes,” I muttered.
    That’s Ancient Greek for “ants,” but these things were way more than that. They would’ve given any exterminator a heart attack.
    The Myrmekes were the size of German shepherds. Their armored shells glistened bloodred. Their eyes were beady black, and their razor-sharp mandibles sliced and snapped. Some carried tree branches. Some carried chunks of raw meat that I really didn’t want to know about. Most carried bits of metal—old armor, swords, food platters that had somehow found their way out here from the dining pavilion. One ant was dragging the glossy black hood of a sports car.
    “They love shiny metal,” Beckendorf whispered. “Especially gold. I’ve heard they have more gold in their nest than Fort Knox.” He sounded envious.
    “Don’t even think about it,” I said.
    “Dude, I won’t,” he promised. “Let’s get out of here while we . . .”
    His eyes widened.
    Fifty feet away, two ants were struggling to drag a big hunk of metal toward their nest. It was the size of a refrigerator, all glittery gold and bronze, with weird bumps and ridges down the side and a bunch of wires sticking out the bottom. Then the ants rolled the thing over, and I saw a face.
    I just about jumped out of my skin. “That’s a—”
    “Shhh!” Beckendorf pulled me back into the bushes.
    “But that’s a—”
    “Dragon’s head,” he said in awe. “Yes. I see it.”
    The snout was as long as my body. The mouth hung open, showing metal teeth, like a shark’s. Its skin was a combination of gold and bronze scales, and its eyes were rubies as big as my fists. The head looked like it had been hacked from its body—chewed by ant mandibles. The wires were frayed and tangled.
    The head must’ve been heavy, too, because the ants were struggling, moving it only a few inches with every tug.
    “If they get it to the hill,” Beckendorf said, “the other ants will help them. We’ve got to stop them.”
    “What?” I asked. “Why?”
    “It’s a sign from Hephaestus. Come on!”
    I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I’d never seen Beckendorf look so determined. He sprinted along the edge of the clearing, his armor blending into the trees.
    I was about to follow when something sharp and cold pressed against my neck.
    “Surprise,” Annabeth said, right next me. She must’ve had her magic Yankees cap on, because she was totally invisible.
    I tried to move, but she dug her knife under my chin. Silena appeared out of the woods, her sword drawn. Her Aphrodite armor was pink and red, color coordinated to match her clothes and makeup. She looked like Guerilla Warfare Barbie.
    “Nice work,” she told Annabeth.
    An invisible hand confiscated my sword. Annabeth took off her cap and appeared before me, smiling smugly. “Boys are easy to follow. They make more noise than a lovesick Minotaur.”
    My face felt hot. I tried to think back, hoping I hadn’t said anything embarrassing. No telling how long Annabeth and Silena had been eavesdropping.
    “You’re our prisoner,” Annabeth announced. “Let’s get Beckendorf and—”
    “Beckendorf!” For a split second I’d forgotten about him, but he was still forging ahead—straight toward the dragon’s head. He was already forty feet away. He hadn’t noticed the girls, or the fact that I wasn’t behind him.
    “Come on!” I told Annabeth.
    She pulled me back. “Where do you think you’re going, prisoner?”
    “Look!”
    She peered into the clearing and for the first time seemed to realize where we were. “Oh, Zeus . . .”
    Beckendorf leaped into the open and struck one of the ants. His sword clanged off the thing’s carapace. The ant turned, snapping its pincers. Before I could even call out, the ant bit Beckendorf’s leg, and he crumpled to the ground. The second ant sprayed goo in his face, and Beckendorf screamed. He dropped