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- They were dryads, but not like any dryads I’d ever met.
- “You’re the Meliai,” I said.
- The women regarded me with disturbingly keen interest, as if they would be equally delighted to fight me, dance with me, or toss me into the fire.
- The one on the far left spoke. “We are the Meliai. Are you the Meg?”
- I blinked. I got the feeling they were looking for a yes, but as confused as I was, I was pretty sure I was not the Meg.
- “Hey, guys,” Piper intervened, pointing to Meg. “This is Meg McCaffrey.”
- The Meliai broke into a double-time march, lifting their knees higher than was strictly necessary. They closed ranks, forming a semicircle in front of Meg like they were doing a marching-band maneuver. They stopped, banged their spears once against their shields, then lowered their heads in respect.
- “ALL HAIL THE MEG!” they cried. “DAUGHTER OF THE CREATOR!”
- Grover and Herophile edged into the corner, as if trying to hide behind the Sibyl’s toilet.
- ***
- The Burning Maze, Chapter 43
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