The Tyrant's Tomb

I saw and heard nothing, but I took Hazel’s word for it. “Go. You’ll
move faster without me.”
“Not happening,” Meg said.
“Here, take Apollo.” Lavinia offered me to Meg like I was a sack of
groceries. “You guys cross this stream, go up that hill. You’ll see Camp
Jupiter.”
Meg straightened her grimy glasses. “What about you?”
“I’ll draw them away.” Lavinia patted her manubalista.
“That’s a terrible idea,” I said.
“It’s what I do,” Lavinia said.
I wasn’t sure if she meant drawing away enemies or executing terrible
ideas.
“She’s right,” Hazel decided. “Be careful, legionnaire. We’ll see you at
camp.”
Lavinia nodded and darted into the woods.
“Are you sure that was wise?” I asked Hazel.
“No,” she admitted. “But whatever Lavinia does, she always seems to
come back unscathed. Now let’s get you home.”