Curled up at the base of the scales, fast asleep, was the oddest monster I'd seen yet. It had the head of crocodile with a lion's mane. The front half of its body was a lion, but the back end was sleek, brown, and fat - a hippo, I decided. The odd bit was, the animal was tiny - I mean, no larger than an average poodle, which I suppose made him a hippodoodle.

You assume that it has to be a male god who finds a human female attractive? How sexist is that?

Suspecting and knowing are not the same.

My fatal flaw is hubris. The brown stuff they spread on veggie sandwiches? No, seaweed brain. That's hummus. Hubris is worse. What could be worse than hummus?

"Yeah, flattering." Percy raised Riptide. "But actually I'm the son of Poseidon. I'm from Camp Half-Blood."

Jeez, Hazel," Percy said, "tell your horse to watch his language." Hazel tried not to laugh. "What did he say?" "With the cussing removed? He said he can get us to the top." Frank looked incredulous. "I thought the horse couldn't fly!" This time Arion whinnied so angrily, even Hazel could guess he was cursing. "Dude," Percy told the horse, "I've gotten suspended for saying less than that.

Imagine jumping into a pit of boiling acid. Now multiply that pain times fifty." -Percy