The Sea of Monsters

degrees, 31 minutes north, 75 degrees, 12 minutes west.
    We had reached the home of the Cyclops.

FOURTEEN

WE MEET THE SHEEP OF DOOM
    When you think “monster island,” you think craggy rocks and bones scattered on the beach like the island of the Sirens.
    The Cyclops’s island was nothing like that. I mean, okay, it had a rope bridge across a chasm, which was not a good sign. You might as well put up a billboard that said, SOMETHING EVIL LIVES HERE. But except for that, the place looked like a Caribbean postcard. It had green fields and tropical fruit trees and white beaches. As we sailed toward the shore, Annabeth breathed in the sweet air. “The Fleece,” she said.
    I nodded. I couldn’t see the Fleece yet, but I could feel its power. I could believe it would heal anything, even Thalia’s poisoned tree. “If we take it away, will the island die?”
    Annabeth shook her head. “It’ll fade. Go back to what it would be normally, whatever that is.”
    I felt a little guilty about ruining this paradise, but I reminded myself we had no choice. Camp Half-Blood was in trouble. And Tyson . . . Tyson would still be with us if it wasn’t for this quest.
    In the meadow at the base of the ravine, several dozen sheep were milling around. They looked peaceful enough, but they were huge—the size of hippos. Just past them was a path that led up into the hills. At the top of the path, near the edge of the canyon, was the massive oak tree I’d seen in my dreams. Something gold glittered in its branches.
    “This is too easy,” I said. “We could just hike up there and take it?”
    Annabeth’s eyes narrowed. “There’s supposed be a guardian. A dragon or . . .”
    That’s when a deer emerged from the bushes. It trotted into the meadow, probably looking for grass to eat, when the sheep all bleated at once and rushed the animal. It happened so fast that the deer stumbled and was lost in a sea of wool and trampling hooves.
    Grass and tufts of fur flew into the air.
    A second later the sheep all moved away, back to their regular peaceful wanderings. Where the deer had been was a pile of clean white bones.
    Annabeth and I exchanged looks.
    “They’re like piranhas,” she said.
    “Piranhas with wool. How will we—”
    “Percy!” Annabeth gasped, grabbing my arm. “Look.”
    She pointed down the beach, to just below the sheep meadow, where a small boat had been run aground . . . the other lifeboat from the CSS Birmingham .
    We decided there was no way we could get past the man-eating sheep. Annabeth wanted to sneak up the path invisibly and grab the Fleece, but in the end I convinced her that something would go wrong. The sheep would smell her. Another guardian would appear. Something. And if that happened, I’d be too far away to help.
    Besides, our first job was to find Grover and whoever had come ashore in that lifeboat—assuming they’d gotten past the sheep. I was too nervous to say what I was secretly hoping . . . that Tyson might still be alive.
    We moored the Queen Anne’s Revenge on the back side of the island where the cliffs rose straight up a good two hundred feet. I figured the ship was less likely to be seen there.
    The cliffs looked climbable, barely—about as difficult as the lava wall back at camp. At least it was free of sheep. I hoped that Polyphemus did not also keep carnivorous mountain goats.
    We rowed a lifeboat to the edge of the rocks and made our way up, very slowly. Annabeth went first because she was the better climber.
    We only came close to dying six or seven times, which I thought was pretty good. Once, I lost my grip and I found myself dangling by one hand from a ledge fifty feet above the rocky surf. But I found another handhold and kept climbing. A minute later Annabeth hit a slippery patch of moss and her foot slipped. Fortunately, she found something else to put it against. Unfortunately, that something was my face.
    “Sorry,” she murmured.
    “S’okay,” I grunted, though I’d never really wanted to know what Annabeth’s sneaker tasted like.
    Finally, when my fingers felt like molten lead and my arm muscles were shaking from exhaustion, we hauled ourselves over the top of the cliff and collapsed.
    “Ugh,” I said.
    “Ouch,” moaned Annabeth.
    “Garrr!” bellowed another voice.
    If I hadn’t been so tired, I would’ve leaped another two hundred feet. I whirled around, but I couldn’t see who’d spoken.
    Annabeth clamped her hand over my mouth. She