Camp Half Blood Cabins Novels & Stories

“And by hounds, you mean—?” “Not the kind you’re thinking.” His lips twitched in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You’ll know if we see one.” I shivered, unsure if I wanted to find out. We reached a small cabin tucked deep into the forest, its silhouette barely visible against the night. It looked abandoned — the kind of place you’d pass by in a horror movie right before something terrible happened. Kael pushed the door open with his shoulder, the wood groaning under his strength.

Twelve: Ashbane CASSIAN I take in the unfamiliar room but think better of it when my eyes spin. I hold my head in my hands and squeeze my eyes shut. There’s chatter outside, and the distinct scent of wolves. They don’t smell like rogues. If they wanted to kill me, they would have. Instead, I was nursed back to health. Then the door opens and footsteps pad in. A sharp pain assaults my head when I look up to find a black-haired girl.

She was relieved to see that they were disgusted by the stench as well. “I am going to avoid blue cheese and mushrooms for a whole month after this mission.” At the end of the path was a clearing of firmer soil and flattened grass. Tree stumps dotted the surroundings, chopped down to build the collection of log cabins and shelters that made up the camp. Or at least used to.

I smiled at her appreciatively because her words gave me the strength that I needed. I had not been certain what to expect when I walked out the door, but it was not what I initially thought when I heard Camden talk about the camp. There were seven different cabins with a big firepit in the middle. Tables surrounded it. The best part was that this place was surrounded by nature. This was their camp in Montana. I could finally witness the beauty of its nature up close. The pine trees provided shade but did not block out the beauty of the blue sky above us.

The woods were unnaturally silent, as if the very earth itself was holding its breath. Deep within the dense heart of the no-man's land, beyond the Vampire Kingdom and far from werewolf territory, a small, crooked cabin squatted under a canopy of twisted trees. No road led to it. No sunlight ever seemed to touch its crumbling walls. Magic, thick and heavy, blanketed the place, shielding it from prying eyes. Inside, the air was stifling. The scent of blood, herbs, and burnt magic clung to the walls like smoke. At the center of the cabin, on a rough-hewn altar made of stone, lay a body.

The idea of walking up and asking for a handout seemed like a bad idea since the vampires were all wearing orange prison jumpsuits and the women refused to go by themselves. At around three in the morning, the group of five headed down the hill and walked the mile and a half to the cabins keeping as quiet as they could. Any stray dog would alert on them to the people in the cabins, so they had to be very careful. As they got closer it seemed impossible for them to find anything useful. Anything they needed would be inside the cabins, and well-guarded. “This isn’t going to work,” Rancid whispered. “We need to get some balls and go inside.” Bohdan replied, “I’m sure they have guns. These guys

We arrived at the camp at noon and there were many people unlike how it should be during fall season but of course they were mostly youths and teens as Katherine has told me that the camp director made sure that the age grade was between 18 to 32 years old. "Welcome to camp, a place full of supernatural folks; Mean people who won't think twice before freaking you out. Don't worry I'm only kidding," Kelvin smirked immediately he saw my uncertain stare as he turned around then pushed the cabin door open. It was only a room but it was already in order since they had cleaned it up before my arrival. It lacked colour and there was nothing fancy except for two beds towards the right end, three woo

"I've been dragged through snow, forced to do manual labor, interrogated by strangers, and now I'm being beaten to death by this glorified tin can." "It's called character building," I said sweetly. He glared at me. Carlos pulled to a stop, tires crunching over gravel. I looked up. The cabin sat about fifty yards away, half-hidden by pine trees. It was small about 800 square feet if I was being generous. The wood siding had weathered to a soft gray, paint peeling in places. One of the shutters hung crooked. The porch sagged slightly on the left side. It looked like something out of a horror movie.

They saw them as pests to be eradicated, not guests to be entertained. “Grab the other end. This one’s heavy.” Rough hands gripped the cage. The world tilted violently as she was hoisted into the air and then dropped with a bone-jarring thud onto the damp earth. The smell hit her instantly—stale beer, woodsmoke, and the copper tang of blood. She wasn’t alone. Through the gloom, her amber eyes adjusted to the scene. They were parked next to a dilapidated cabin that looked like it was held together by moss and rot. But it was what lay beyond the cabin that made her blood run cold. Other cages lined the perimeter of a clearing.

It was so strong it made my vision turn red. I turned away from the shivering Omegas and looked toward the center of the camp. Standing in the middle of all the broken slave houses was one very nice, large cabin. It was made of thick wood. Bright yellow light was shining from its glass windows. Thick, warm smoke was blowing happily from its chimney. Through the walls, I could hear loud laughter. I could hear men drinking and joking. They were warm. They were eating food and drinking beer, while the Omegas outside were freezing to death in the snow.