The Newcomer (Open)

Having now been dropped off, Tara looked up at the Camp Half-Blood sign with a mixture of insecurity and nervousness. Her dread locked blonde hair was secured with a pink bandanna, and her outfit consisted of a loose Led Zeppelin shirt, black shorts, and her trusty black boots. Strapped to her back was black bow and black arrows. Her manly and tall frame cast a long shadow in the dying sunlight, her round, tan face and pale green eyes were etched with worry. The air had a heavy and sickly feel to it, and Tara remembered the wonderful warning she was given about the "slight zombie issue". Fabulous. But here, she wouldn't draw unwanted attention to her mother with her demigod presence. She sighed, hearing the Jeep and horse trailer, driven by her mother, pulling off. She was on her own now. Well, not alone, exactly.

Her big black cat, Puss, stood by her side. He seemed protective and wary-yet calm-eyeing the entrance, knowing it was all going to hell inside. But that would be expected from a guardian cat from God-Dad. The more she thought of this newly discovered "demi-god" status, the more internal dialect confused Tara. Cheesecake the white Apaloosa, who unlike Puss, was NOT godly, was quite the scared and confused creature. Tara, with her humble talent, proceeded to pet her horsebeast, and after a few seconds, he calmed on down from her gentle and reassuring touch. She wouldn't let undead hurt him. Checking the straps that hauled her luggage atop Cheesecake's back, and setting the uneasy Puss on top of Cheesecake, she unstrapped the black bow across her back and notched an equally black arrow. She was going to be ready, whether or not the zombie situation was under control at the moment or not. Even though she recently discovered her demigod status, Tara was a trained archer. Her interest peaked young, probably since her God-Dad didn't want her to be talent-less. Because she didn't have much else besides shooting pointy things. She could wrestle and throw stuff, too. And make a decent sandwich. Alas, Tara gripped the reins of Cheesecake's bridle with the hand that readied her bowstring, and uneasily led her cargo forward, entering Camp.