Percy turned to Ella, who was counting all the barbs in one of her feathers. “Are you okay?” he asked. “We were worried about you.” “Ella is not strong,” she said. “Cyclopes are strong. Tyson found Ella. Tyson took care of Ella.” Percy raised his eyebrows. Ella was blushing. “Tyson,” he said, “you big charmer, you.” Tyson turned the same color as Ella’s plumage. “Um…No.” He leaned down and whispered nervously, loud enough for all the others to hear: “She is pretty.”
