Bright and early this morning, I was rudely awoke to the knowledge I am officially a woman whereas yesterday I was not. At last my woman's red moon has begun. I had started to believe I was completely immune to this curse of blood and would be childless my whole life long. I had started to believe many dire things... for you see, all the other girls my age have long ago stepped fully into womanhood while here I am eighteen and only just beginning. But at least I am beginning! I have been living under the hush-hush fear my secret shame would fuel another round of gossip and people have plenty to natter about when it comes to me as it is.

For its premiere, the flow came as a thief in the night, leaving me ill-prepared. I was forced to scramble about in the dark house to clean up myself and the bed sheets, doing my best to keep my father from noticing the break in my morning ablutions. I do not have a mother to share these womanly woes with so even now that I am in the clear on normality, there is not a single soul to spill the beans to. I suppose I could tell Varda.. but I doubt the wolf would understand why I care about the cruel things people can say.

I was congratulating myself by the time Father came down from the upper floor. The heady smell of mint tea brewing on the hearth was there to greet him and I was one put-together Miss, busily chopping the feverfew blossoms from their stems.

As he came into the kitchen, Father breathed in deeply, throwing his skinny chest out. "Ahhhhh.. it must be Chauday. No one will come within ten yards of either of us today without regretting it."

He was referring to the feverfew, you see the entire plant reeks with a bitter scent. And not just the blossoms or stems, why even the roots bear the same olfactory trademark. The smell was especially powerful with the batch I was currently working into next week's infusions. At one elbow I had a pile of the flower's heads. They have delicate white petals surrounding a golden floret. At the other elbow, the green slender stalks and roots.

Taking up his tea cup, my father paused in mock speculation, a finger touching to his chin. I was eyeing him with a grin, knowing what was coming. He had that twinkle in his eye, the one I love so much. "We would be quite crushed if the Lady Hildegarde decides to stay away today, won't we?" he turned to ask me. "Oh yes Father, destitute with remorse." Bad of me, but I might've spoiled the delivery for I was snickering under my breath, to which Father soon joined me.

"That's a pretty potent batch you have there, Bryony. Good morning." When we had piped down, he kissed the cheek I offered and went about milking his tea into an early grave. We banter often about his ruination of a good cup of tea with unneeded cream. Surely it must spoil any medicinal benefits from the herbs. "Good morning, Father. Did you rest well?"

His tea doctored, Father set it aside and was putting on his working apron when he paused to clear his throat. This attempt did not seem to work for with a hand curled under his mouth, he coughed lightly on his way over to me. "Everything alright there, Father?" I teased him, looking up from my work. He nodded in answer, clearing his throat a few more times while shaking his head. "My throat must be dry this morning.. Now. I cannot let my apprentice do all the work. I will get the ambelic.."

And just like that, he buckled over and the light, surface cough deepened with alarming swiftness to a hacking sound which he could barely finish before the next one wracked through him. "Father??" I dropped the knife and hurried around the counter yet by the time I got to him, he was down on one knee, laboring in a fit of coughing of the likes I have never heard from him. What little catchup breathing he could get in between this endless string of coughs was nothing more than shallow wheezes.

I dropped to my knees next to him and just as I did, the next deep, guttural exhalation came up sounding wet. Blood sprayed the floor, my father's clenched fist and left a garish pattern of scarlet across my lap.

Blood, everywhere, blood.

[0 petals fell]