A/N: DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NO READ Daughter of Three Goddesses. Else it won't make sense!

First chapter of Arthemia's sequel! You guys are now meeting the second character of all the ones you will meet! Don't worry, Arthemia is still here! I just now have three people to go through. Why did I agree to do this for camp?

So how have all you guys been? How was your January? Mine was stressful – barely got writing done! Had school projects, my comp has a screwed up battery; I have half of the next chapter for this done. Have one and a half chapters of my novel I want to finish writing this year. I saw 30 pound wild turkeys in front of my cottage and wanted to shoot them for dinner (I'm not allowed my bow there, I start shooting everything). I still have to finish my script (all "down to earth").

That's enough rambling! Here is the first chapter of Birth By British Waters. Started things off on a different note. Hope you all enjoy it! (Nearly forgot. The "overcoat" is really just like a long sweater)(Oh, and because of . . . personality things, I had to up the rating - I'm still going to try and keep it as clean as possible though. There are just moments when it doesn't make any sense if I fix it...)

Children of Olympus
Book Two

"Birthed by British Waters"

Written by: "Huntress of the Sea"

Pearla: A Birthday to Remember

I stood there in the dripping rain, petrified as I saw him walk away. He looked back once, remorsly at me, before the rainy fog engulfed him. I stared after him, tears in my eyes, until a man jostled me and I lost sight. The rain continued to fall steadily.

Suddenly I was running forward, through the grey mists. I couldn't breathe for a second. Then I was out of the mists. I slowed to a stop and looked around amazed. I was home. The grimy grey sky was far above, and the brownstone brick buildings were on my right. To my left was the river I grew up on the banks of. I gasped and looked around at the passing people.

There, several feet in front of me, was a man who looked familiar. I gave a little cry and ran forward. He wasn't looking at me. I caught up to him and tugged on the back of his tweed jacket. He began to turn around. The ground opened up beneath me. I fell.

Now I was standing in the alleyway. The rain dripped steadily. He held my shoulders and I looked up at him with big eyes. He smiled gently with him, an unreadable look in his blue-grey eyes. I was clutching his jacket in one of my hands. Drip, drip. Water streamed down his face like tears.

"Now you stay 'ere," He told me. "Stay 'ere. I'll come hammer and tack for ya, I promise. 'K, luv? Stay right 'here and I'll come hammer and tack for ya, soon as I can. Do ya understand?" I nodded solemnly. He gave a sad smile. "There's a right good girl. I luv yer. I'll spot yer soon. I promise. Cor blimey guv! Stay 'ere. Cor blimey guv, would I lie to you? Me shinnin' Pearl. Just wait 'ere. Good-bye."

He ruffled my hand and stood up. My hand dropped from his coat. He stepped back, the rain pattered down anew. He turned away and walked into the misty rain. I stood there frozen, following what he told me. His figure disappeared from view. The rain had me soaked through to the skin.

There was a deafening thunder clap and a brilliant flash of lightning. The alleyway and grey skies dimmed into overwhelming darkness . . .

I awoke suddenly. My body was cool and damp. The cardboard on which I lay was crumbling and wet. I was curled in a little ball. My hair was splayed about in clingy clumps. My fingers were clutching at air. I could feel the light moisture in the air surrounding me.

I opened my eyes. Thin chinks of grey sunlight filtered in through the gaps of the makeshift shelter in which I lay. Yawning I stretched my arms over my head. I arched my body. Forcing myself into wakefulness I pushed off the sheet of bent cardboard I used as shelter. The humid air hit me like a slap in the face.

I stretched again and pushed myself to my feet. I was in the shadow of the buildings that made the alleyway. I looked around blandly. It was the same alleyway. The same one as in my dream. I shuddered and stepped out on to 42nd street.

Still here, I thought. I walked out and joined the crowds. I looked around at the shinny skyscrapers. My stomach growled and I clutched at it. I looked around at the people passing by. None good. Too many business people. My stomach growled again. I wanted something good for today. It was special day after all. My mind thought about a tart lemon pie. I sighed.

I made up my mind.

I pushed my way forward. I navigated the crowded streets with ease. The city was wide awake and the streets were loud. There was a loud siren and flashing lights began to turn down the street. I quickly scurried into a nearby alley and hide in the shadows till they passed. Once it was safe I darted out of the alley.

A large man in a trench coat was just coming out of the nearby bank. He was attached to his phone. I was keeping an eye out for of those blasted coppers that I walked right into him.

"Sorry, 'scuse me Sir," I mumbled ducking around him. He gave me a bewildered look. Whether it was because I was a tattered looking twelve year old girl, or because I spoke with a clear Cockney accent I wasn't sure. I glared at him and kept moving.

I walked quickly over to my destination. It was a little bakery with low security on the corner of 5th and 36th. Stopping in front of it, my mouth watered as I looked inside. Fancy cakes and steaming loaves of bread were in the window. My stomach grumbled again. I angled myself so I could see the counter. I nodded. It was a new worker, so they wouldn't recognize me. I was a frequent 'customer' here.

Locating the swiveling security camera I slipped inside. The bell jingled as the door swung open and I walked in. The single elderly man customer and the clerk looked up. I nodded to them and walked down the tart aisle with my hands in my pockets. The air was sweet with the scent of freshly baked bread. The bakery was quiet, and it calmed me down. It reminded me of my old home.

I kept an eye on the camera. My eyes scanned the shelves of displayed tarts and mini pies. I resisted the urge to snatch them all up. Rule number one of thieving and pick pocketing: be cautious yet risky. It was something I had learnt over the years. I looked for a particular favorite tart of mine. It was cinnamon-lemon tart and I found it delicious.

I glanced at the security camera. I found the tart. The camera slowly rotated to be able to see me. I picked up the front tart and looked at it. I made to look like I was going to put it back. Then I drew my hand back. The camera rotated to start filming the other half of the store. I glanced down the aisle. Empty. Entirely empty.

My hand shot forward and plucked a second tart from the shelf. Quickly I slipped it into one of the large inside pockets of my grey woolen overcoat. It slid in its wrapper to the bottom of the pocket and I stuck my hand in one of the outer ones. The camera began to pan back over in my direction. I put on a forlorn look and jangled my pocket like I didn't have enough money. Then I let out a false sigh and placed the tart back in the front. Rule number two of thieving and pick pocketing: never overlook the details.

I let out a smaller sigh and slid my left hand into a pocket. I sagged my shoulders and lowered my head. I turned on the ball of my foot. I shuffled sadly out of the bakery. The door jingled as I exited. The clerk didn't look up. I walked out and turned left. I kept shuffling along until I was far enough.

As soon as I passed 6th Avenue I stopped the act. I let the mischievous smile slide onto my face and let out a giggle. I laughed harder and smiled bigger. This day was turning out better than I had dared hoped for! I let out a whoop of joy and sprinted forward. I felt every pebble through the worn out soles of my sneakers, and the humid air sneaked in through the holes in my threadbare jeans and green tee-shirt. My woolen grey overcoat billowed out around me. My old friend of comfort.

I turned north and ran faster. I darted in and around traffic, leaving a mild trail of destruction in my wake. I didn't care. I was free. I was Manhattan's greatest thief. I was unfindable by any coppers. I was unmistakably free.

I slowed down to a walk as I neared the end of 7th Avenue. The road opened up and I caught the whiff of the river. The Hudson River; it didn't smell as bad as it did a few years ago, but it was still pretty bad. 'Course I was still comfortable around the river. I was near one of the more open stretches of Manhattan's borders. The River was wide and open and the sky was a bright blue. I stopped at the corner between the end of the road and the beginning of the pedestrian section.

I reached inside my overcoat and slide my hand into the pocket. My hand closed around the tart. I pulled it out and held it up. I smiled widely. I carefully peeled off the plastic wrap that had covered it. I inhaled the delicious scent. I licked my lips hungrily. My stomach rumbled. I stared at the tart for a moment longer.

"'Appy birthday ta me," I whispered. I lifted the tart closer and opened my mouth to take a large bite.

Suddenly there was a black shadow darting in front of me. The tart was snatched from my hand and hair brushed my cheek. I blinked and took a half step back. I looked around, angry. There.

Standing several feet away was a girl. For a moment I was taken aback by how she looked. She wore black ripped jeans, black running shoes, and a loose black tee-shirt with a wide neck line. There was a knife handle protruding from a black leather sheath on her right hip. She had tanned, slightly sunburnt skin. Her hair was long, down to her hips. It started out straight, grew wavy, before becoming curly. It was auburn, but a blonde streak framed the right of her face, and a brown streak on her left. I glanced at her face. She had narrow, angry eyebrows and dangerously hard eyes. Her left eye was a grey-silver, her right a fire-yellow. She had a scowling, harsh mouth. Her nose was long and straightish, but rounded up and out like a cute little ball.

Her left hand she held aloft with my tart. She waved it tantalizingly in the air and smirked slightly. I glared at her. Then she spun on her heel and began to run off into the week-day morning crowd.

"Oi!" I yelled, waving my hand stupidly and starting forward. "Give it 'ere!" The mysterious girl paused, turned her head so I could so the gloating, challenging look in her yellow eye, and ran away. I ran after her. Fast. I ran fast. I wove in and out of the moving people the way I knew how. I ran fast the way I knew how.

The girl was fast. Faster than me. I managed to just keep her in sight. She led me down the northern shore of Manhattan. She turned south suddenly and ran down 6th Avenue. I turned sharply and followed her. It was easy to spot her now. A black shadow of evil. I struggled to keep up. There were some coppers nearby.

The girl led me on a wild goose chase down to 34th street. She swung around to 34th and kept running. What did this girl want from me? Was she living on the streets as well? That would explain the knife. 'Course it didn't make sense as to why she grabbed my tart. I skidded around the corner. The girl was weaving around pedestrians. I yelled in frustration and dashed after her. She wasn't even looking back.

I followed her for a few dozen yards. Then the mysterious girl ducked into an alleyway. Clearly she was new in Manhattan. I knew that it was a dead end. There I'd get my minor revenge and my birthday tart. I was giddy with anticipation. A moment after her I swung into the alley.

And stopped dead.

The girl was gone; hidden in the shadows. Instead a few paces in was a man. I think. He looked to be around eighteen. Maybe older. I stared at him, a little less confident. The man was muscular, not overly, but obviously strong. He had tanish skin. There was a slight twinkle in his sea green eyes. It made me think he was a bit of a rebel. His face was handsome, with a relaxed sort of look. He had unruly black hair. I almost liked him – but I didn't know why he was here.

"Damn it!" I screeched in surprise as I fought to regain my balance. "This ain't good." The man – boy – whatever gave me a sad smile. He stepped closer to me. I took a half step back. I got ready to fight.

"Sorry about this," he said. Then he lunged forward. His hands tried to clamp onto my shoulders. I ducked and ran under his arms. I scowled and looked around for something to use. No pieces of broken wood in sight. Now I was stuck between the end of the alley and the stranger.

The stranger turned to face me. He tried to lunge at me again. I leaned back and flicked my right leg up in one fast motion. The flat of my foot slammed into his stomach. Then I quickly retracted it to the ground in a stable stance. My ankle buckled under the weight. My foot stung. It had felt like I had been kicking marble. The stranger didn't seem to really notice. That wasn't good. I might have to go past the basics this time.

I caught a flash of something brass or gold on the inside of the stranger's windbreaker. Panic rose in my chest. A police badge. The guy was a police man in disguise. My foot still felt weird. I couldn't catch my breath. I was about to be caught by the police!

The stranger lunged at me again and clamped his hand onto my wrist. He had a strong grip. I froze and looked up at him, partly angry partly worried. The guy stepped in closer. He looked sorry almost. I scowled and glare. No copper was going to get me. Not now, not ever! The stranger moved to grab me better.

I immediately fought back. I stabbed my fingers into his eyes. He flinched back and shut them. I twisted my wrist and pulled hard. The narrowest part was by the break. I yanked my wrist out of his grasp. I balanced as if to run. Then I drew back my hand and shoved it forward. I grinded the kneel of my hand into his nose. He yelped and stumbled back. My hand stung. I quickly began to slip around the stranger.

"Mia!" he yelled. "Get her!" The mysterious girl suddenly materialized on the other side of the alley. She had a frightening expression on; but I didn't feel that afraid. She ran in front of me and blocked my way. She held up my tart and casually tossed it over her shoulder in to the street. I looked at her in disbelief. I had to actually get that! But I quickly shook my face into a mischievous smirk.

"Oi! That lad 'as a gun!" I cried in a panicky voice. I pointed behind the girl. She didn't fall for it. Most people would. But she did look at me like I was crazy. I frowned and crossed my arms. These people were not normal coppers. I needed some other way to get out of this. And that girl did have a knife on top of it all.

I let out a strangled sound as a hand gripped my upper left arm. I was jerked backwards. My coat swirled as I spun around to face to man. I twisted my waist and kicked my shin into his side. It felt bruised as I pulled back. I bite back a cry. It could be fractured. The guy started to walk away. He was dragging me.

Instead I grabbed his hand with my right one. Before he could understand I twisted my left arm around his and pushed my weight on it. He let go. He tried to throw a punch back. I intercepted it with my own arm. He was surprised. I let out a series of quick jabs on his torso. He didn't notice. My hands stung and were red. I kept punching like a feral animal. He didn't have time to defend.

"Mia!" he complained. "Do something!" I punched his stomach full on. My hand crunched and I howled in pain. I heard a faint whizzing sound. Something small and hard smacked itself into the middle of my forehead. I felt my skin burst. Blood poured down over my eyebrows. I involuntarily closed my eyes. Blood trickled into my eyes. Then all my senses vanished and I drowned into darkness.

A/N: How was it? Okay, because this is the very first chapter, I decided not to talk to the gang about this one. They will return though! Oh, and I want to remind everyone about my deviantART account (has Arthemia cover and pics). PLUS because I was bored and I'm weird and monsters can't trace my comp – I made a facebook page for me! Yeah. I make a fake account using the name of a character and now use it to run a page. I have a page for me, "Huntress of the Sea". Currently no one likes it . . . but if you do I'll start using it for my rants and you'll have shorter author notes! So yeah, please like it!

So what did you guys think? Was it a good start? I hope so! Please let me know what you think, whether it's through a review, fav/alert or PM! Let me know! Can't wait to get more done (I have BARELY written) and see what you guys think! Peace, love, and Percy Jackson.

((P.S. I stole that. *pokes head outside* And Percy – THAT IS JUST A SAYING!))