I was there, I do not know how else to describe it. I wasn't there and I was, it was the strangest thing. However, I was dead, so that didn't really compute. I remember the water, and I remember sinking, but I do not remember coming here. I look around, and see people dressed in strange clothes holding weapons.

A girl approaches me, she holds a short blade of whitish bone. I back away, panicked, but she speaks Greek.

"Who are you? You are safe here." I look at her. She does not look like Pyrrhus' men or a Trojan. I decide to trust her with my real name.

"Briseis"

She then looks increasingly concerned. How old are you? She asks me. I tell her 22, I am pretty sure. She asks If I am Greek.

I shake my head, "Anatolian"

At this she pales and orders everyone near us to leave. I watch in fascination. Normally, males would never take orders from a woman, but they seem to respect her.

She lowers her voice. Now it is just her and the centaur.

"Do you know The legend of Achilles?" At this I give her a confused glance.

"Legend? Do you not know of the war?" I reply, puzzled.

At this she stops. She turns to the centaur and exchanges words with him in a foreign language that I cannot follow.

He takes my arm gently and leads me up steps to a building made of wood.

"I am Chiron, I taught Achilles." Then he gives me a long look. "And Patroclus" I cannot breathe. I know of Chiron, he taught all of the great heroes. Patroclus and Achilles would tell us stories by the fire of their time there, and I loved to listen.

Then he says," You are dead. How is it you are here?"

"I do not know, where are we?" He replies "America" I do not know the word "We are not in Greece. We are across the ocean."

I do not know, then. What I had just gotten into.