I was only thirteen when it began. I woke to a warm night, my body atremble. I knew that I was different. As different as the day I started bleeding. That had been only three months before. The day I became a woman was a feast day of Apollo. It was the first time I chose to fast the night before, only to eat with vigor after the ceremonies. I had my heart so set on those little almond cakes with the cream paste center. On top were thin slices of almond, which with their shape preserved, were just the right size to fit over my eyelids, stand still and pretend to be a statue. I was so sure that the striking beauty of the gods struck in part only because they of their stillness. It was not that I did not believe that our world was theirs, I just did not think that they passed through it, as do we. I digress. Too early in your tale for digressions princess. Its only because I believe that past sweetnesses can be exhumed in memory from the bones of moments long gone. I began bleeding just as the burning of the chine of lamb began. I noticed the dark still pool at my feet. Then I felt the trail it had followed out of my body and down my leg. I did not notice it before, I think, because I was so intent chanting and listening to other voices I could hear in the song.

Oh bright Apollo, bring us your light. Oh Noble Apollo we give thanks for the shining days.

I did not panic though I was very embarrassed. I walked to my mother and whispered it to her. The same as I, she did not worry. Hecuba had the slaves take me back in her litter. The day was to become even more auspicious, after her return. I was to return to the temple that evening, just as Apollo was hastening his nighttime leave, clean my blood from the floor, and ask the god's pardon. "There is no coincidence Cassandra, and I think this means that he has chosen you. Remember that all things happen according to divine plan and that among the Olympians, Apollo has always been a friend of truth."

Truth. And always truth. He'd open my mind to truth amid the myriads of idle possibility. I thought on this and found myself incapable of thinking of anything else on the way back. Chosen me? Chosen me to bleed? I feared his designs for me if already they were traced in my own blood. But I told myself not to be afraid, because there was nothing to be done about it. I scrubbed the temple floor, and inquired of the god in a voice which, though small, still filled the temple. I rather liked the sound as it echoed back to my ears: "I will serve you as best I can in whatever way you deem befitting, Always." And then silence. The silence roared until I thought with a sudden shuddering bolt of blasphemy 'Of course there has been silence except for you, Cassandra, the gods do not move.' I crawled back into the litter and berated myself all of the way home for the thought.