Petunia stabbed and stabbed, even as the monster turned to green dust. Then she just knelt there and cried, too stressed to think about moving on. Going further. She didn't even know where she was going, and now her guide was dead. Her stupidly brave Satyr protector, dead about a mile back to try and give her time to get away from the creature.

She was afraid of what would happen if she went further, and if her father's warnings when she was young were anything to go by she wouldn't be getting any assistance from her mother, who viewed her as a mistake. Yeah, the stupid goddess had decided a little late that having a daughter was a bad idea.

Whoops.

Her father had refused to the very end to divulge the name of her mother.

Fantastic.

Grady, the satyr that just died, had said he had some ideas about who her mother might have been. Might be. But now he was dead.

And if Petunia saw one more skeleton or zombie, she was going to just let it kill her. She would be screaming, but she would just stop fighting.

She finally looked up, right into a flower. Anemones, so deep a purple as if Aphrodites tears had just fallen to the earth.

She picked one, trying to remember what her books said about the meaning. Something about good luck...and protection against evil.

Gods knew she needed all the help she could get, so picked a second and tucked it into her shoe laces, then stood up and looked around. She had to get to this camp. She had to be close to that safe place that Grady had told her of. Her life had seemed to be looking up since she had met Grady. He had told her about the happy outcome from other half-bloods that he had brought to camp. A daughter of Demeter who was going to college in Minnesota. Two brothers, sons of Hermes, one of which was going to college in Michigan. The other which was a counselor at this camp that Grady was leading her to. Another daughter of Hermes. A son of Athena.

Overall, he had led twelve halfbloods safely to the camp.

So, logically, he died while bringing the thirteenth. On a friday. On the sixth day, of the sixth month, at 6 minutes past 6 in the morning.

And Nia's watch would forever remind her of that, having broken the moment he died as she hit the cement.

She started walking, taking a sort of eastern direction as her direction of choice. She had no idea where she was actually supposed to go, but she had to keep moving. Just like she had to keep moving, even after her father had died. Just like she had had to keep moving despite being put in that stupid foster home.

She picked some bell flowers as she passed them, even though they were just symbolic of unchanging love, honesty, and obedience. Her father used to tell her the story of Venus' looking glass, how the flowers were born of the shattering of her mirror when Cupid tried to retrieve it from a shepherd.

A sob escaped her as she tripped, aggravated the cuts, scrapes, and bruises. When she looked back on the path that she had chosen to take, she could see flowers ahead of her that hadn't been there before.

She limped forward until she got to the tree that the flowers had been by.

Queen Anne's Lace...but it was again about ten feet ahead of her.

Nia swallowed, despite feeling like she hadn't had a drink of water in eight years, and started limping forward again. Queen Anne's Lace...signifies complexity and delicateness...and is symbolic of...

She caught her breath as she leaned against an obliging sugar maple. She knew. She knew that she knew what the flowers symbolized. Why couldn't she remember?

A monster jumped at her from out of what seemed to be thin air.

She screamed and stabbed. And stabbed.

The monster screeched and dissipated.

Nia gagged, then pushed herself forward. She had to keep moving. She had to get to safety. For Grady. For her father. To prove to her mother that she wasn't a mistake. To live to an older age and open a flower shop, where she would make meaningful and gorgeous bouquets, and do floral arrangements for weddings. She might even dabble in edible flowers made of chocolate, or sugar, or maybe fruit. Frosting. Yogurt.

Then ahead of her, there was a bunch of Queen Anne's Lace.

And beyond that there were kids with weapons and armor, in a group formation.

She remembered what it symbolized, feeling like an idiot for not being able to remember.

Sanctuary.

—~~—

After some discussion and her silently gathering some flowers while they debated whether or not she could be a monster while their weapons were pointed at her, the halfbloods had decided that one would escort her to a place they called the "Big House" while the rest continued with what was—apparently—a patrol.

Petunia licked her lips, twirling the stem of a bellflower between her fingers.

The halfblood that was escorting her to some place called the Big House kept glancing at her and looking a little...confused. The others had looked confused that she had stopped to pick flowers.

They didn't understand.

She didn't need them to understand.

"What was your name again?"

"Petunia. Nia for short."

"Right, well, how much do you know about who you are?"

"Everything. Well, except which goddess is my mom. Grady said he had his suspicions about who she is, but he never told me." She picked an Aster. Tiny beginnings from which great things proceed.

"And the flowers?"

"Every flower has a meaning, some from times of ancient Greece, and some more recent. Victorian ages were important times for flowers, the meanings were designated and fleshed out. I take flowers as signs. It's no different than people who believe that breaking a mirror is…" Huh…bellflowers were said to have been born from the shards of a broken mirror. "Bad example. But it's like stepping on the cracks, or black cats. It's my own personal superstition."

"You're superstitious?" He asked. She?

Petunia really wasn't sure and frankly she was afraid to ask. You never knew how sensitive people were. "Um, yeah. A little."

"What do you think is the most powerful flower?" What had s/he said their name was?

"I think it depends on the person. For me…rosemary. Not the flower, the herb. It means remembrance. There are others that are good as well, but that's always seemed most powerful for me."

"What about me? What would you say my flower or plant would be?"

"Lotus," Nia said, almost without thinking about it. "Flower of mystery, truth, purity, enlightenment, self-regeneration, and rebirth."

The halfblood looked at her with interest. "That's an interesting choice. Why'd you pick it?"

"Gut feeling," She shrugged. "You seem like a person who likes mystery. So, who's your parent?"

"Hebe, goddess of youth."

"And what was your name again?"

"Jamie," Jamie answered in a completely unhelpful way. He or she pointed to the house they were coming upon. "This is the Big House, I'll introduce you to Chiron. You said that your satyr died?"

"Grady, yeah. He was defending me. I should have protected him better." Nia tucked the flowers into her pocket. She felt nauseous. If she had been stronger, Grady would be alive.

"They know the dangers of their job." Jamie put a hand on Nia's shoulder in a reassuring way. "I'm sure he thought you were worth the sacrifice."

"He'll have to be planted…" Nia said softly, looking at the ground. "I was still under attack when he died."

"I'll talk to Grover about a recovery mission." Jamie gently urged Nia on. "You're safe now and I'm sure you'll be claimed quickly. You give off some…pretty specific vibes."

"I do?" Nia's heart jumped.

"Yeah," Jamie shrugged. "I would say Demeter."

She knew it wasn't right. "Oh, I don't think so."

Jamie gave her a curious look. "So sure?"

"Yeah…I'm sure. It doesn't sound right." She rubbed her arms, then followed Jamie up the porch steps and into the house.

There was a man in the wheelchair sitting by a couch, talking to two teenage guys. The man looked young, but also impossibly old. His eyes tired looking.

The teenage boys, one tall and blond that looked like a surfer put on nurse's shirt and one short with dark hair.

The shorter one looked at her.

She took a step back, her heart starting to race. This place couldn't be safe.

He frowned. "You…don't…you…" He stepped back. "You're a daughter of…you shouldn't exist…"

Jamie put a protective hand on Nia's shoulder. "Nico, kind of takes one to know one."

"You don't understand." Nico looked nervous.

"Nico, she's unclaimed. Don't jump to conclusions. You're scaring her." The blond took Nico's hand.

"Mr. Di Angelo, if you have a theory, we can hear it but until she's claimed we have no reason to worry." The man in the wheelchair rolled himself forward. "What is your name?"

"Petunia Green," She answered, almost in a whisper.

"She's a daughter of Persephone." Nico's sentence seemed to make the light leave the room.

The man in the chair, he must have been Chiron, looked like he dreaded the very idea. "Let us pray you're wrong."