The last thing you expect to find when you walk into the woods is a sleeping girl. But that was exactly what Aaron found when he was walking with his friend, Lance. They were both sons of Hermes, and were trying to play a trick on the dryads (ketchup on the tree trunks? Shouting "fire" at the next council of cloven elders meeting?) when they saw her. The girl had hair golden hair. Not blonde, legit like spun gold. Her skin had a sort of silvery sheen. She was sleeping. Not like she was hurt, or anything, just like she had decided "Where should I take a nap? On the floor of the Long Island wilderness, where evil chipmunks could try to kill me. Is this a good idea? Definitely!" In her hair, she had an expensive looking hairpin. "Try to steal it," Lance said.

"You dare me to?" Aaron asked.

"I dare you to," he replied. Carefully, Aaron walked to the girl. He had barely gotten a foot away, when suddenly; she was on her feet, the tip of a knife at his throat. "What the…" he said. She hissed, sort of like a feral cat. She had one gold eye, one silver one. They seemed to say, "I'm going to gut you and hide your body where no one can find you." Suddenly, she collapsed. A blade stuck out from her back. It belonged to a monster. A Scythian dracaena. That was weird. The Scythian dracaena hadn't been seen since the last Titan war. But what was stranger was that the girl's blood wasn't red. It was golden ichor, blood of the gods.