I've grown up all my life knowing that on my sixteenth birthday I'd be sold off to the highest bidder and made to leave my family and start my own. Because, you see, my race is running low on population. About seventeen years ago, a mere few months before my birth, a plague like no other swept threw my people and killed more than sixty percent of the population. My father was one who fell ill to the plague, but told my pregnant mother to be strong and give birth to a healthy child who would one day help rebuild our kin. That's me. And I will comply to his last wish in a span of only half a day. My birthday is tomorrow, along with eight other girls who will share the special day with me. Tomorrow I will stand with my head high as I am auctioned off to my new master.