<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>Zachary Williams</strong></span><br/><br/>The beginning of the year was upon them once more and Zachary, child of Poseidon, couldn't help but roll his dark blue eyes at the new demi-gods who had come into the camp, either wandering there by chance or brought in by the satyr Protectors.  He longed for the quiet that usually accompanied his days at camp, a peace that was known only by the year-round campers who had no other place to go during the year or dared not brave the wilds of the "civilized" mortal world for fear of bringing monsters down upon their mortal families.  Zachary could always go home to the sandy white beaches of St. Augustine, Florida, his home, and visit his mother but the last time had almost cost her life.  There was only so much training that could be used when faced with a Minotaur after all.<br/><br/>It was safer for him to remain amongst the strawberry fields of Camp Half-Blood and try and maintain a life for himself here.  It was a small world to dwell in but it was filled with all the excitement and adventure one would hope to find in such a mystical place.  Regardless, the son of Poseidon always grew restless when the "new blood" was brought in.  Often, it meant nothing to him as it was rare for him to have any of his siblings present at camp but for some reason, this year felt different.<br/><br/>It felt just like the air did before the onslaught of a hurricane; charged and alive, tinged with ozone and the savagery of nature.<br/><br/>Sighing heavily, he watched with boredom as the other cabins claimed their assorted brethren and he made no effort to find others that might share his blood.  A tall, wiry figure, Zachary leaned against the outer wall of the Poseidon cabin, dressed casually in a weathered yet comfortable tan cargo pants, the trademark orange camp shirt with its sleeves removed, and a pair of sandals.  His sandy blond hair was messy, cropped short and kept out his eyes.  He toyed with one of the hilts of the twin short swords that hung at his waist, his dark eyes wandering from face to face, searching for any one familiar... or maybe someone who might even be family.<br/><br/>It hadn't happened in a long time so why would he think it would now?  It was the beginning of his seventh year at camp and he only hoped he could make the most of it.