Ayla pulled her hood back over her head and scurried away. There were more glances, whispers, and snickers from the girls and women as she passed through the village. But she was used to that. She’d been getting them her whole life.

It still hurt.

Everything hurt. Because she always seemed to feel everything. Not just her own pain and suffering, but also that of the people around her. Sometimes it even seemed to extend further than that; the village pets or livestock, the birds, rabbits, and wildlife of the woods. Even the trees themselves.

She headed back towards her Spot, trying not to feel. Trying to force all thoughts of her vision away. It had been strong and unlike any other she’d ever had. But what could she do about it? She was a seventeen-year-old unwanted girl who had never been outside the confines of her village and Crescent Hollow. Who would she go to? Who would she even tell?

She had no answers. So she just tried to let it all go.

“Hi, Ayla.”

The voice was so soft Ayla initially thought she might have imagined it. She stopped and turned around. A little smiling girl, her cousin Po, was looking up at her. Ayla looked past her, saw her twin Liebvin continuing on her way, glancing back over her shoulder at her sister with disapproval.

“Hi, Po,” Ayla said, returning the smile. Liebvin and Po were one of three sets of twin daughters of her Aunt Chony, her mother’s twin. Only five years old, Po hadn’t yet realized that she was supposed to scorn and mistreat Ayla. Unlike her twin, who understood it all too well.

More than anyone else in the village, Ayla felt a kinship with Po. She had a lot of family here—sisters, cousins, and aunts—but Po was the only one who was kind to her. Who ever made her smile.

“Can I see your hair?” Po asked.

“What?” Ayla asked, self-consciously tugging her hood further down her face. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s pretty.”

“Pretty?” For a moment, Ayla thought she’d been wrong about Po after all. That the little girl was goading her to reveal her deviancy, only to laugh and mock her when she did.

But the look on the little girl’s face was earnest and sincere. Ayla fiddled with her hood, shuffled her feet, feeling awkward and unsure.

“Please?” Po asked, her smile so sweet that Ayla felt all her defenses crumble.

She looked around, to her left and right. Sisters continued to go about their day, but for the moment, no one was paying them any attention.

She slowly pulled her hood down to her shoulders, keeping her grip tight. Her hair flowed freely for a moment, a fiery blend of bright red, deep auburn, and subtle strawberry blonde.

“Wow,” Po said, mesmerized.

Ayla quickly pulled her hood back up, casting furtive glances around to ensure she hadn’t been seen.

“It’s so pretty,” Po said. “I wish my hair was red.” She twirled the ends of her long black hair, so like the others’, and tossed it aside with a disappointed frown.

Ayla went down to one knee so they were face to face. “Don’t say that! Don’t ever let anyone hear you say that! Do you understand me?”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Po nodded, her expression shifting to one of knowing sadness. “Yeah. I guess.”

“This is a curse, Po,” Ayla explained. “An aberration. I’d give anything to be normal like you.”

“Why?” Po asked. Ayla was taken aback.

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you want to be ‘normal’?” Po asked, the word normal tinged with sarcasm. “You know what another word for normal is?”

Ayla shook her head. “No. What?”

“Boring!”

Ayla laughed, a sound so rare it felt strange even to her own ears. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

“Po!” came the booming voice of her mother, Chony. Liebvin was holding her hand with a smug look on her face, suggesting she had dragged her mother here to intervene in whatever trouble her twin was getting into.

Po frowned. “I gotta go,” she said to Ayla.

“Okay,” Ayla responded. Po turned to go. Ayla called after her.

“Po?” The little girl looked up at her. “Thank you. What you said… it means more than you can ever know.”

Po shrugged. “Okay.” Then ran off to her sister and mother.

Ayla watched her for a long moment. It had been such a simple kindness, from such a small source. But she hadn’t been lying. It really did mean the world to her.

She made her way back to her Spot with just a little bit of bounce in her step.

The day was warm, but the temperature was likely to drop once night fell. But this wasn’t the first time she’d been forced to sleep outside. In some ways, she preferred it; being among the trees and flowers and birds and rabbits felt more natural than staying in her house where she was always on edge. Waiting to be yelled at, reprimanded, often for things she hadn’t even done. Laughed at. Mocked.

She sat down under a giant oak, the largest tree towering over her Spot, and the place she’d curl up later to sleep. She looked around, ensuring nobody was there. It was rare for anyone to make their way this far into the woods, but she had to be careful. Nobody knew where she sometimes disappeared to, about her Spot. Probably because none of them really cared.

She moved aside a large rock at the base of the tree, revealing a small hollow. She reached in, found what she was looking for and pulled it out.

Again, she scanned her surroundings, aware that she was now drifting into the realm of paranoia. Nobody was watching. With great care and caution she unfolded the fabric she had been working on for months, in secret. Stealing little pieces of cloth here and there, whenever she could. Stitching it all together.

It was complete now. Had been for some time. But she didn’t dare wear it. Only look at it.

It was a cloak, not unlike the ones she—and everyone she knew—wore almost every day. Except for its color.

It was red. Not a particularly bright or distinct red—she’d never had that kind of material at her disposal. Instead, she’d been gathering any scraps of material she could for a long time, sometimes straight out of the garbage. There was a bit of a patchwork look to it, but considering what she had to work with, she was pretty happy with it. It did have one thing, though, the most important thing, that she’d been looking for. Or more accurately, the absence of that one thing.

Black. There was none of it in this cloak. Not a hint. It had color.

How she dreamed of color! Everything here was so black. Black and pale. There was color in the woods, at her Spot, in the mountains around her. But that was as much as she’d ever seen. How much color was out there, in the rest of the world? Surely there had to be more.

And what were the people like? There were men and boys out there, she knew. She’d only seen a few in her lifetime—thirteen, if her count was accurate—and she had been afraid every time. They were so large, so different from her and the Sisters.

Did they co-mingle? Her mother had granted Ayla very little education; everything she knew came from listening to others’ stories. But it seemed that men and women actually lived together in other places, caring for their children—girls and boys—together.

Real families.

She carefully folded her cloak and placed it back in the hollow. She hoped it wouldn’t be so cold tonight that she’d need to pull it out and use it for warmth. She didn’t want it to get dirty. Wanted to keep it clean and full of color forever.

She resumed her lotus position, crossing her legs and closing her eyes. Running her fingers through the dirt and grass around her. She felt peace, for a moment, and prayed there would be no more visions…