In Which Zachary Wishes He Had a Flashlight and Not a Water Bottle<br/><hr/><br/><em>She thinks I'm cute...</em><br/><br/>The parting thought burned in Zachary's mind as the trio started towards the woods, a faint smile on his chapped lips.  But, such thoughts were quickly forgotten as they came to the boundary and domain of the monster-filled woods.<br/><br/>The torches and din of conversation from the pavilion faded behind them as the trio set off for the darkened woods that surrounded the camp.  The warning sign was hardly a deterrent for the three half-bloods, each one more than confident in their abilities in both battle and with their godly gifted powers. But how deep did that conviction run?<br/><br/>As the ocean and most visible representation of his own power disappeared behind the pavilion and the towering, twisted trees, Zachary felt his confidence deflate like a popped balloon and he started to feel his anger and frustration well up inside him.  He grumbled low under his breath as he searched around his pockets for the pen light he often kept on hand for foolish adventures like this.<br/><br/>That was when he realized he had left it on the table near his bed for some late night reading.<br/><br/>"Minotaur balls... anyone got a light or are we going to just stumble around until we find something to slay?"