Aída Alonso Peral

“I glanced at Annabeth and Grover. We'd been through so much together. I imagined Annabeth with silver hair and wrinkles, chuckling as she called me Seaweed Brain for the fourth millionth time in our lives. I imagined Grover with tufts of white hair coming out of his ears, his back hunched as he leaned on a cane, bleating as he complained about his aching hooves, then maybe taking a nap on a bench in our beachside garden while I sat next to him, resting my aching bones as I watched the waves and smelled the sea air. Aching bones weren't hard for me to imagine. Actually, the rest wasn't hard to imagine, either.
Gary expected me to wrestle him. And unless I died young, I couldn't beat Old Age. But what if I embraced him?”
― Rick Riordan, The Chalice of the Gods