He tries to leave but is taken to their camp

Before he reached the gap between the trees, the Hunter who had helped him stepped alongside him, leaving the way to the road clear. “You should not be travelling alone at this hour. Our camp is close. Come with us and get a few hours’ rest.”

“Travelling alone was going quite well until I acquired company.” Matt freed the strap from his collar and settled it more securely on his shoulder. “Thank you for the invitation. I’ll manage.”

That remark earned him a rueful smile, though she glanced toward the dark road with considerably less enthusiasm. “You told us you might have to run if something found you. I would sleep better knowing you had someone keeping watch.”

“And walking into a camp full of Hunters is supposed to help me sleep?” Matt was pretty certain that owuld get him turned into a Jackalope if Artemis was present or filled iwtha rrows if she wasn't.

“You would be our guest.” His recovered cord appeared beside him, neatly wound around another Hunter’s hand. She offered it with a hopeful look toward her companion. “There should still be something hot to eat. We could find you a place beside the fire.”

Accepting the rope gave Matt a moment to consider how to refuse without inviting another explanation of why he ought to be grateful. Into the side pocket it went, followed by a firm tug on the zipper. “Have you asked everybody else? Because I remember your visits to camp. Most of you weren’t looking for a boy to sit beside?”

“We can speak to them.” The Hunter beside him waited while he checked the pocket, apparently willing to remain there as long as convincing him required. “You need not worry about making a good impression tonight. I would much rather explain why we brought you than spend the night wondering what happened after we let you walk off alone.”

“Let me?” Matt turned toward her, his hand still resting on the bag. Somehow accepting a coil of rope had become a discussion about whether he could be trusted out of their sight. “Right. You’re taking me back to your camp whether I want to go or not. Glad we cleared that up.”

“Yes,” she agreed, reaching beneath the strap. “Give me this before it slips off your shoulder.”

The duffel lifted away while Matt was still waiting for her to acknowledge the sarcasm. His hand closed on empty air as she passed it to a companion, and reaching after it brought his forearm neatly into the grasp of the Hunter beside him. An arm slipped through his; another hand settled around his opposite elbow, turning him away from the road before he had managed to get a question out.

“Wait. What are you doing?”

“Taking you back with us.” The Hunter on his left smiled up at him as they started between the trees. “Mind that root.”

Matt stepped over it automatically, then looked ahead to where his duffel was being carried away. The sword was in there. His money, the hammock, everything he had packed that morning was going in the wrong direction, and the two women holding him seemed to expect him to follow with no more objection than the warning about his footing.

“Hold on. I haven’t agreed.” Trying to pull his arm free brought him against a grip that barely shifted. Matt planted a boot against a root and leaned back. “Let go.”

Their pace checked, but only long enough for the Hunter on his right to move her hand above his elbow. “Careful with your shoulder,” she murmured, drawing his arm closer to his side before they continued. His braced foot slipped, the other dragged through the leaves, and he had to scramble forward to avoid being pulled off balance.

Neither Hunter was breathing any harder. Matt twisted toward the road, trying to get one arm between them, and found himself turned smoothly back onto their chosen route. They had handled more difficult things than a tired demigod with muddy shoes. Remembering that would have been useful before he cut them loose.

“You swore an oath!” The words came out louder than he intended, enough to make the Hunter carrying his bag look back.

“And we mean to keep it.” The Hunter on his left glanced down at his feet and slowed a little. “Does anything hurt?”

“Would that get you to stop?”

Concern replaced her smile, but the hold on his arm remained. “Tell me if we are hurting you.”

“Then let go when I ask!” Matt pulled again, watching her face for some sign that the oath mattered beyond whether she left a bruise. Her fingers loosened just enough to change position before closing securely around his arm, and the opportunity vanished before he could use it.

Ahead, the Hunter with his duffel stopped beside a fallen branch. “Bring him around this side. It is clearer.” She held back a spray of wet leaves while his escorts guided him past, taking enough of his weight to lift his boots over the wood when he tried to brace against it.

The brief sensation of being carried brought him upright in alarm. “Put me down.”

“Of course.” His feet returned to the ground, accompanied by an encouraging squeeze against his arm. “Though we can carry you if walking is too much.”

Matt stared at her. The offer had sounded entirely sincere, and a glance at her companion found her considering it with an interest he had no wish to encourage. He started moving his feet before they could agree between themselves. Walking at least let him choose where to put them, even if every attempt to angle toward the road met the same steady correction.

Behind him, the last two Hunters fell into step. One quietly reminded the others that his stride was shorter than theirs; the pace eased in response, leaving Matt to listen while they discussed how best to accommodate him. His requests to be released had apparently become less pressing than whether they were making him walk too quickly.

By the time firelight appeared through the trunks, his sleeve had worked halfway up one forearm and his boots were thick with mud. The Hunter on his left noticed the exposed skin and drew the fabric down without relinquishing her hold. Matt was still staring at her hand when a figure rose beside the nearest silver tent, and any hope of explaining himself to somebody reasonable disappeared as he recognised Phoebe.

Of course she was awake. Every encounter at Camp Half-Blood had left him wondering how somebody who spent so much time hunting monsters had managed to avoid being eaten by one. He had caught himself hoping often enough, and the look forming on her face did little to make him ashamed of it. Her attention passed from the returning patrol to his duffel before settling on him between the two smiling Hunters. Matt stopped trying to pull free long enough to meet her stare. Whatever was wrong with these six, Phoebe apparently remained her usual charming self.

“Why have you brought a boy?” she demanded, addressing the Hunters holding his arms as though he were something unpleasant they had tracked into camp on their boots.