A mother watched in horror as her second child was washed off. The firstborn had been completely normal, but this one . . . Even as a newborn, this child had pale skin, like northerners. Once the boy was washed off, his head showed pale fuzz, instead of the normal dark hair.

In a Spartan community, like theirs, this child showed weakness. There were too many people already. The mayor would command the child left on top of the tall mountain nearby. The mother had no problem with this, she found this child so disgusting that she knew it was not her child, at least not in heart.

With very little ceremony, and no ado, the poor child was left on the mountain. The parents, priest, and mayor took many bottles of oxygen, and a pressure bubble, straight from the factory. They were still only able to get halfway up. They left the child in the snow, throwing hateful glances at it for stealing their air.

From a small mound of snow, a young humanoid watched. As the humans left to go back into their filthy, high-tech city, she came to the snow around the baby. It looked up with ice-blue eyes and watched her movement. She watched it back, the fine tips of her ears quivering. She snatched it up and took it back to the Naiad colony.

“Elda, Elda! Look what I found.”

Aithne stood by the front gates. It had been half a decade ago, in some far planet that the little boy had been born. Her father’s caravan was scheduled to come in today. She was the five-year-old daughter of a rich merchant. Her birthday had been yesterday, and this was an ideal present for her. Aithne saw the lead all-terrain vehicle, and started to run toward it.

A small group of creatures, the nameless horrors of stories, came after it and the two largest grabbed hold of it. The rest of the creatures swarmed and demolished the vehicle. Aithne sucked in her breath. Abruptly the creatures turned and ran. Aithne walked calmly over to the vehicle. As she touched the cool metal of the door, there was a sizzling sound. There was something slimy on the door.

She waited for her dad to open the door, and take her into his arms. Two minutes later Aithne was getting impatient, and opened the door herself. Inside were massive amounts of blood. Her father was slumped in the swivel seat in the middle of the transport. The horrified five-year-old girl backed away and ran deep into the forest, where she soon collapsed next to an ancient rowan. Aithne leaned heavily on it and began to cry.

That same month, on yet another planet a three-year-old girl was doing her lessons. The silence of her stitching, the echoes of the stone mansion, or the heavy sighs of harvest were Keliandre Valterra Claiborne’s favorite sounds, because if she heard anything else, it was probably her mother yelling at her.

Right now Keliandre was learning the right end of the needle. She had a needle and a rag. Her governess had left her to her own devices and was watching the other children. Keliandre soon stopped paying attention and was looking out the window. Her friend, the most motherly figure in her life, was rushing around the village looking worried. Immediately Keliandre, filled with the sweetness of a small child, went out the door and down to her friend.

Soon, the woman was on the hill a mile from the village, and Keliandre was halfway between those same places. She heard a roar to her left and above her a wispy voice said, “Watch out, Lia.” Looking up, Keliandre saw what her mother would call a sylph. The sylph pointed towards the roaring sound, and the toddler, interested, turned to look. It was a mudslide: huge, terrible, and deadly. Keliandre stared at the approaching disaster. And then, three inches from her, it stopped as if held back by a wall. The mud began to pile up behind that invisible wall. Unexpectedly, Keliandre’s friend picked her up and carried her back to the village. The girl’s mother found them in the castle’s kitchen and severely berated the three-year-old girl for getting dirty. Used to this action, Keliandre barely cried.

Keliandre was on underneath her tree on top of her hill. It had been ten years since the mudslide. She was talking to the soleads, nymphs of the sun. The sylphs, dryads, oreads, naiads, and lesser elementals that Keliandre didn’t notice were listening in. Her skin was sun-bronzed, her hair chestnut brown. Her eyes were a mesmerizing brown that shone like the golden wheat. Keliandre was plump, and looked horrible in the noble’s dress she was wearing. Her conversation was interrupted by an oread. “The mother creature searches for you.” Keliandre gasped and ran back to the monolithic manor.

“Keliandre Valterra Claiborne! Where have you been? You are leaving in two hours. Go get ready. Aledse packed for you.” Keliandre looked at her mother.

“Where am I going, mother?” She said meekly.

“Aledse will tell you.” Keliandre was led to her room by the old maidservant.

“Men in a strange metal bird came. Milady and Milord spoke with the gentlemen. You will be leaving as the ambassador. Is there any way I can help you, madam?”

Keliandre looked up, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Those are the clothes I am to wear? Then you may go.” Keliandre knew exactly what this meant. She was by no stretch of imagination pretty. Her mother was giving her away to the first people to take her. Though why her mother hadn’t even tried betrothing Keliandre, she didn’t know.

When the time came to leave Keliandre looked as perfect as she could. It would always be her regret that she never had time to say goodbye to the nymphs. Aledse had taken her bundles up earlier. As Keliandre approached she smelled the noxious fumes, and hated them. Then, she left her home.