“Hey, Herc! Wake up!” Iolaus shook his long haired friend. “Hey!” he shouted again, but all the Demi-God did was roll over.
“No, Mom, not now…” he grunted.
Iolaus normally would have laughed at his friends immaturity, but this time it was different. “Herc, Jason not here! For the love of the Gods, wake up!” he screamed slapping the cadet’s face.
Herc’s eyes snapped open, and he bolted into a sitting position nearly knocking Iolaus over. “What?” he demanded, miraculously awake, and pushing his friend aside so he could get out of bed. He glanced over at Jason’s cot, it didn’t normally look that tidy in the morning. “Where is he?” he asked.
Iolaus shook his head, “I don’t know…” he confessed. “But his boots and over shirt have gone, so he can’t have been Prince-napped,” he said. After all, Jason was the crowned Prince of Corinth, a lot of people would love to kill if they got the chance, but there were no signs of struggle.
“We should tell Cheiron,” Hercules said, “He could be up already…” he looked at his friend, but they both knew that was unlikely.