Prologue: The Stranger

The night was bitterly cold. The temperature had dropped from the evening's warm 80 degrees straight down to a frigid 50. Darkness had brought a surprising chill, as if wanting to unbalance everyone with the sudden cold. But the stars still shone as bright as ever, overly twinkling, as though impossibly trying to touch the straw thatched roofs of the mud huts in the village. Of course, this supposed attempt ailed no success.

Inside one of the small, shabby huts, a middle-aged man lay snoring on his sleeping mat, which, in fact, was in the only room in his tiny home. He had nothing to fight the cold but the thin clothes he had worn that day, and his one cotton blanket, wrapped tightly around his emaciated body. The only thing protecting the poor shelter inside from the freezing air outside was a heavy black canvas hanging in the doorway. But even that had flaws; it was old and tattered, full of small, exposing holes- not small enough to keep bugs and most of the cold out.

The man shivered subconsciously and snuggled deeper under his poor excuse for a blanket. The blanket was shorter than he, so his big feet stuck out from the frayed end of it, his toes starting to turn blue. If the man's uncomfortable position didn't wake him up soon, his toes certainly would.

It turned out that neither of those woke up the man. Soft footsteps danced closer and closer to his hut, until someone pulled open the canvas and slipped through the doorway. The blast of cold wind hit the man as the canvas was pushed aside for that moment, and his eyes flew open. With another shudder, the man sat up and rubbed his tired eyes, wondering why he had awoke. He didn't notice the woman standing behind him until she gave a small cough. “Kalo.”

The man, Kalo, spun around with a start and jumped. The first thing he noticed about her was that she was extraordinarily beautiful. Her shining wavy black hair flowed all the way down to her waist. Her naturally pale skin, not dark like most of the villagers, was smooth and seemed to glow. She was tall and slender, and she held herself lightly, almost as though she was the weight of a feather. She looked fragile and delicate, as if the smallest gust of wind could blow her away, but at the same time she had a strong air about her that contradicted the fragile appearance. Despite the cold, the woman wore nothing but a very light purple sleeveless dress, reaching down to her ankles. It was loose, but it looked like it was made for her; the soft fabric fit her curves well.

In the woman's white arms, she tenderly held a bundle wrapped in silk. Kalo stared at the bundle with confusion. How had this woman managed to have the so rare and valuable silk fabric? She must certainly not come from the village, Kalo thought. No one there could afford to buy it from the traders that came once a month, and they had nothing to trade that the traders would accept for it.

Kalo let his eyes wander from her bundle, and he could not help gaping in awe at the strange woman's beauty. Her shocking emerald eyes gazed back into his brown ones intently, as if searching for something in their depths. Several moments of silence dragged on until Kalo broke the connection, awkwardly averting his eyes to the dirt floor. He nervously ran a hand through his sandy-colored, rumpled hair and cleared his throat. “Who-who are you? And how do you know my name?”

The woman laughed. It was a clear, crystal sound, like a bell. “I am known to others as Mother. You may call me so. As for your name, why, you are quite famous in this little village.” Mother's eyes twinkled, and she smiled warmly, her teeth brighter than the stars outside. Her voice was like the tinkle of a thousand flutes, almost like she was singing.

What a strange name, Kalo thought. And then the last part of what Mother had said finally registered. You are quite famous in this little village. How did she know?

Mother seemed to read his thoughts, or maybe his confusion was clear in his eyes. “Rumor spreads faster than a hungry wildfire through a forest,” she stated simply. Abruptly, she stepped to Kalo's side and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was very warm, and spread heat throughout his body. Kalo let out a relieved sigh.

“I am terribly sorry about your loss,” Mother said gently. Kalo blinked. “Your wife was a very kind, beautiful person, and she should have never died so young. You must be suffering painfully from grief.”

Kalo didn't say anything. The first few years had been hard, but now most of the time he managed to shut the pain away in the back of his mind. But it still hurt to be reminded. Everyone in the village knew that, and they were all careful not to mention his wife around Kalo. But this woman obviously was not clued in. He wondered why she was bringing up this painful topic.

“It's alright,” Mother soothed quietly, and Kalo realized there were tears in his eyes. He tried to wipe them away with the back of his hand, but she caught his fingers before he could. They tingled where her skin made contact with his. “There is no need to feel shame for your tears,” she whispered. Kalo looked away and tried to pull himself together. Why had this woman come to his hut?

Again, Mother seemed able to answer to what he was thinking. “I've come here to help you get over most of the grief,” Mother explained. Kalo frowned.

“Thank you, but I don't need any kind of counseling,” he said politely.

Mother shook her head. “No, not counseling,” she smiled again. “Something better.” She offered the bundle to Kalo. “A child.”

Kalo froze and stared at the silver bundle with shock. A child? Why was this woman giving away a child to a stranger?

“She is mine,” Mother said sadly, “But it is impossible for me to take care of her. Will you please do a favor for me, and take her on as your own, treating her and loving her as you would a child of your own blood?”

Kalo's shock reached an even higher level. This woman was about to abandon her baby, and he was supposed to take care of it? What, did Mother think Kalo was an adoption agency or something? Kalo was about to voice his protest when Mother lifted back the silk blanket, and Kalo caught sight of the baby's face.

She was almost an exact copy of her mother. A tuft of the same shade of dark hair protruded from the tip of her head. Her pale skin was soft and had the same glowing sheen. Her tiny hands were resting peacefully on her chest, which rose and fell in rhythm to her breathing. Suddenly she let out a small hiccup, and she opened her eyes slowly with a yawn. Kalo gasped. The baby girl's eyes were a stunning silver- matching the blanket around her. They were the only thing different from her mother.

Looking at this baby, Kalo instantly felt a mixture of pity and something else- longing. He had never had a child, never experienced the joy he felt at seeing this girl now, and for the first time he wondered if he had been missing something. He realized that he could not decline Mother's offer- not just because he could not let Mother abandon the baby. There was a small part of him that wanted to keep the girl for his own sake, too.

“Well?” Mother asked quietly, although she probably already knew the answer.

“Yes,” Kalo whispered. “I will.”

Mother bowed her head. “Thank you, Kalo. I will never forget this. You are helping me beyond how much you can comprehend.” She leaned over to kiss Kalo on the cheek, leaving it with a curious stinging sensation, and then handed Kalo her baby.

For a few seconds, Mother gazed at the little girl now in Kalo's arms, love burning in her eyes. Then she tenderly brushed her finger across the girl's chubby cheek and sighed. “Someday I will come back for her, I promise,” she whispered, more to herself than to Kalo.

Mother raised her eyes to Kalo's once more. “I promise,” she repeated in a louder voice. Then, with one swish of her liquid-like dress, she slipped through the black canvas for the second time. Kalo quickly followed her out, still holding the baby. His teeth chattered as he stepped into the blistering iciness, worse without the somewhat protecting mud walls of the hut. But as he squinted his eyes and tried to look for the woman, he soon found out that it was to no avail. Strangely, there was no trace of Mother as far as he could see. She had gone.

Escaping back to his safe sanctuary from the cold night, Kalo remembered that he had no crib to put the baby in. It was too late to go out to the nursery and ask if they had any spare ones- it would have to wait until morning- so with a shrug, Kalo lay down on his sleeping mat and hugged the baby to his side, spreading most of the blanket over her. The girl needed to be warm more than he did.

Kalo was already half-asleep when he realized that Mother had not given him a name for the baby. Thinking slowly, Kalo's tired brain did not offer any common name ideas. The only thing that was in his mind, blocking out everything else he tried to search for, was the image of the woman that had visited his hut, every detail extremely clear, as if he had painted her accurately in his head and made the vision stick beneath his eyelids. He gave up trying to push her out of his mind's eye, and focused on the details instead...the luminous sparkle of her bright emerald eyes, the long flowing river of her black strands of hair, the pale glow of her soft skin, the light color of her sleeveless dress...the light color of her sleeveless dress...before he drifted off, Kalo realized that the perfect name for the girl was right there, swirling around in his mind's eye. He would name her after the color of Mother's dress.

Once this thought was confirmed, the wave of exhaustion finally crashed upon Kalo, and he sank into the blackness gratefully.

---

Chapter One: Silent Words

Lavender blinked open her eyes. She had been woken by nothing but the sun, streaming thickly through the holes in the black canvas of the hut she shared with her father. She was so used to waking up at the first light of dawn that the sun was basically her alarm clock; there were no alarm clocks in her village. As her eyes adjusted to the bright morning light, Lavender sleepily rubbed the black tangled mess on top of her head and stretched her legs and arms out in front of her.

With a yawn, she threw off the thin sheet she slept with on hot summer nights and sat up on her sleeping mat. A glance in his direction told her that Father was still asleep. Lavender smiled to herself and giggled. Her father was always a late riser, and Lavender was always the one to wake him up for the morning's chores. But Lavender decided to let him sleep in a bit longer that morning, since she had to bathe before she was ready to go to work anyway.

Still in a sleepy zone, Lavender stood up and dragged her feet over to her meager pile of possessions. Choosing a light summer dress that Lavender had traded the clothing makers one of her winter coats for, she shrugged off her short nightgown and pulled the dress on. She had to remember to go over to the trading center again today- she didn't have any summer clothes except for the one dress, and she couldn't wear that every single day. It had to be washed sometimes.

But what could she trade in? Most of her winter clothes had gone towards the nightgown she wore at night and the supplies Father and her needed to get, and the wool blanket she and Father used to sleep with had been exchanged with the two thin sheets fit for the summer. Lavender scanned her mere amount of clothes, wondering if she had any winter garments left. After digging around for a bit, she found one last knitted winter sweater and a pair of warm wool socks. With a small sigh, she stuffed them into her dress pocket and headed towards the door-canvas. What she had wasn't much to trade with, but at least it was something.

When she stepped outside, the heat surprised her as it had every morning the past week. As it was the first week of summer, just like every other year it took Lavender a while to get used to the warmer temperature, even in morning, and the absence of her lessons with Tutor. That was the one good thing of the summer- she didn't have to go through those boring hours every day, learning things that Tutor thought his class needed to know. Sometimes she thought she would prefer the frigidness of winter over the scorching heat of summer; the heat made everything slow and sluggish, and Lavender hated being in that kind of haze.

Lavender made her way quietly towards the bathing stream, narrowing her eyes against the sun. She was already starting to feel overheated, and it was a relief to strip herself of her clothes and sink into the refreshingly cold stream.

Thankfully, no one else was at the bathing stream (Lavender was embarrassed whenever she had to share the waters with someone; she liked to have her privacy) so she took her time. When Lavender was done, she slipped her dress back on before the water could dry, and she felt better as she crossed the little bridge over the stream to the other side and began walking to the trading center a little bit off the center off the village- the dampness inside her dress cooled her off somewhat.

She passed a cluster of people her age, and she made sure to avert her eyes from theirs before she could catch the expression that she knew always appeared on their faces. But she still could hear the rude comments that they threw back and forth to each other, not even bothering to lower their voices, as if they wanted her to hear it.

“Oh great, here she comes.”

“All clear the way! Lavender is coming through!”

“What's she doing now? Probably going to pick some little flowers for her little self.”

“She can eat flowers for all I care.”

“Eat flowers? I'd like to see her try.”

“Oh, don't worry. If she can't eat them, I'll stuff them down her face.”

This brought howls of laughter to the group, as if the kids thought that it was the funniest joke they had ever heard. Lavender clenched her jaw and walked straight past them without sparing them a glance.

“Have fun eating flowers!” The one who had made the suggestion in the first place called after her. Lavender ignored the comment, as usual.

It's not my fault I'm different from all the other village kids, Lavender thought bitterly as she kicked a pebble at her feet. It's my mothers fault, whoever she is. Or was. I got my weird looks from her. Lavender stopped walking and crossed her arms over her chest. That was the other reason why she was an outcast, why none of the village kids wanted to be around her. Not just because she looked different, with her pale skin and silver eyes, but also because of the whole thing about her parentage. Lavender had never known her mother; her father had told her that she had mysteriously disappeared after Lavender had been born. The strange thing was, her father had had a different wife before Lavender's birth, and that wife had died four years before Lavender had come into the world. And since Father would not say even a word to any of the villagers about who Lavender's mother had been, everyone suspected that Lavender was born to an affair of her father's and her mother's. An affair meaning having a child without marriage. That was considered a sin in the village, so that made Lavender and her father an outcast.

Lavender's father never gave her a straight answer or abruptly changed the subject whenever Lavender asked about her mysterious mother, so Lavender had started to suspect what the other villagers all thought about her to be true. Of course, she didn't say this to her father, who would probably start yelling at her or something else crazy like that...

The thing that bothered Lavender most, though, more than the wish to be normal and fit in, was who her mother really was, or had been, and why she had left Lavender and Father alone. For fifteen years, the curiosity had burned away Lavender's insides, and she still had come no closer to an answer. If only she could find out somehow...

Lavender realized that while she had been thinking and caught up in a tangle of memories, she had started walking again, and now she was at the door of the trading center. Pushing her disconcerting thoughts away, Lavender entered the huge hut, almost as big as the dining hall.

“Welcome to the trading center. Is there anything particular that you need-” the woman's warm tone evaporated as she saw who had entered the center, and her voice turned overly cool. “Hello Lavender. What do you want?”

Lavender took a composing breath, trying not to let her anger bubble up. It was so unfair how everyone, including the adults, treated her. “I'm here to trade a few of my last winter things for summer clothes.” Lavender tried to sound as polite as possible.

The clothing-maker narrowed her eyes. “And how many items exactly do you expect to receive for two of yours?” Her tone was accusing, as if she thought Lavender would try to cheat her.

Lavender bit her lip to stop the angry tears that had reached her eyes from flowing. Her anger cells seemed to be connected with her cry cells. It wasn't fair that everyone thought she was a bad person, always thinking she would rip them off or something, just because they suspected her father of committing a sin. “Two.” Her tone was sharp.

The clothing-maker grimaced and replied in a self-satisfied voice. “Good.” She disappeared behind a table for a moment, and then slammed down a pile of more summer dresses, skirts, and tops. Lavender traded her winter sweater and socks for a skirt and top. She now had two outfits to wear for the whole summer. She would be doing a lot of washing. Every day. Her shoulders sagged as she imagined doing the extra work.

“You've got everything you can get. Now shoo.” The woman made a hand-gesture that was usually meant for swatting away annoying bugs- the literal kind. Lavender turned around and stalked out of the trading center, relaxing a little as she left the hut behind.

When she got back to her hut, Father was already awake. “Good morning,” he smiled at her.

“Hardly,” Lavender grumbled back. Father noticed her wet eyes and stopped tidying the room up at once.

“What's wrong?”

Lavender shrugged. “The usual,” she said, trying to make it sound like no big deal.

“Oh, Lav,” Father cried, and threw his arms around her. “I'm so sorry.”

Lavender blushed and squeezed out of her father's embrace. But something about what he had said made her stop and think for a moment. Father had never apologized for any of that before. “Why are you sorry?” Lavender asked curiously.

“For making you go through this. It's all my fault.”

Lavender's heart started to race. Was she finally going to get some answers? “How is it your fault?” Lavender prodded, trying to sound casual.

Father opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked caught, as if he had said too much. “Um, nothing,” he covered up quickly. “I just feel bad that you're going through this, because I'm your father. Now, let's get some of those chores done. It's about time.”

And Lavender knew that was the end of the discussion. No answers today.

***

The breakfast bell rang when Lavender was in the middle of feeding the chickens. She tossed them the rest of the seeds in her hand and followed Father to the dining hall in the center of the village. She could see other people heading in the same direction, and she kept her eyes on her bare feet the whole time. Father squeezed her hand.

When the food was served, Lavender ate the mushrooms and rice without speaking to Father. Her plan was to finish breakfast quickly and then leave just as fast. The big crowds at the tables made her uncomfortable; she could feel the burning stares on her sensitive skin, almost like they hurt, but at least any comments said about her were impossible to make out from the normal breakfast chatter.

It turned out that her plan wasn't going to work out the way she wanted it to. The village teens had other ideas.

It was still in the middle of breakfast. Father had excused himself to go use to outhouses. She was alone, and the seats around her were cleared, as usual- no one ever wanted to sit near her and her father. So Lavender was surprised when she saw two girls her age from the group that tormented her the most stand up from their spots and head over to her.

An alarm rang inside Lavender's head. Oh-oh. Whatever they were up to, it wasn't going to be good.

“Hey, Lav,” One of the girls said, sliding in the seat next to Lavender. The other girl took Lavender's other side. They had cornered her like a wolf corners a rabbit.

“Don't call me Lav,” Lavender snapped. There was no point being nice to these kids. “Only my father can call me that.”

The moment she said it, Lavender instantly regretted it. Both girls' mouths turned up into identical sneers. “Oh, I'm so sorry,” the one on Lavender's left snickered. “I forgot, daddy's little girl.”

“Who else can call you Lav?” The one on Lavender's right asked with pretended casualness, leaning a bit closer to Lavender. “Just daddy? Or can mommy call you that too?”

Lavender gritted her teeth at the girl, but didn't say anything.

“Oh, whoops!” The other girl laughed with a mock apology. “Forgot about that, too. Mommy's dead. Of course she can't call you anything. I'm so sorry about that.”

Lavender raised her eyebrows at the girl, trying to act like she thought the girl was crazy, but inside something ticked. She had no idea if her mother was dead or not, and hearing the girl throw it out there so casually unnerved her.

“Go away,” Lavender growled.

But the girls weren't finished. “Better off dead than alive,” the girl on the right grinned.

Lavender knew they were trying to provoke her, but she didn't care. “GO AWAY!” She shouted at the top of her lungs.

Suddenly the whole dining hall went dead silent. Lavender swallowed as all the faces turned to her. She noticed she was standing up.

“What's going on here?” One of the cooks was walking towards Lavender, the reason for all the trouble.

Lavender groaned. Great. In trouble with the cook now. Who else?

“We were just trying to get to know you better and be friendly!” One of the girls wailed.

The cook patted her shoulder. “It's okay, Lavender is just a rude, selfish person. Not everyone is like her. Go sit back down in your spot with your friend, and I'll deal with the offender.” The cook glared at Lavender.

The two girls flashed Lavender identical smirks before turning around.

“Wait!” Lavender called after them, making her voice sound pleading.

They both turned back, grinning, probably expecting an apology or something. Well, they were in for a treat.

Lavender picked up her breakfast bowl and dumped the remaining contents onto the two girls.

“Wha-EW!” The girls screamed together. “Ew, ew, ew! GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF! Gross!” The hopped around and continued to scream, while they tried to pull the rice and mushrooms and sticky sauce out of their hair, not to mention their ruined clothes.

Lavender giggled at the sight until she caught the beyond furious expression on the cook's face.

“LAVENDER! HOW DARE YOU THROW PERFECTLY GOOD FOOD AND RUIN CLOTHES THAT ARE HARD TO MAKE! YOU COME WITH ME RIGHT NOW-”

Lavender didn't wait to find out the rest. She raced through the dining hall, past all the tables, and burst through the door-canvas. Even when she was out, she didn't stop running- past the trading center, past the outhouses, past the chicken coop, past the cattle farm, past the crop-growing area, past more living huts...finally, she stopped, out of breath, at the edge of the forest. Lavender shot a glance over her shoulder and relaxed when she saw that nobody had followed her out of the dining hall. But Lavender didn't want to go back there, not when she knew some sort of punishment await her. So she continued on into the forest.

Lavender had never spent much of her time in there. Actually, the only few times Lavender had recalled ever entering the forest at all was when she was collecting the berries that grew there, those times when she had had to help her father with kitchen duty when he had it. But she had never gone for fun; when she was little, she had already been an outcast; the other village kids had never let her join in their forest games.

Now, the forest was entrancing her. She breathed in the scent of pine needles and sap and found that she loved the smell. The sound of her bare feet crunching on the dead leaves and dry twigs soothed her, and the chirping of birds overhead was the prettiest song she ever remembered hearing. The green, fresh leaves and plants looked more beautiful than anything she had ever seen, and the brown oaks towering above her made her feel safe and enclosed. She felt happy. But more importantly, she felt something she had never quite felt in the village- she felt at home.

It was then that she heard it. Them.

Words.

She looks just like Mother.

Words she could understand.

“Hello?” Lavender called out hesitantly. “Anyone here?”

Do you think that's just a strange coincidence?

Then Lavender realized that the words weren't being spoken out loud. They were inside her head, if that was even possible.

No. She looks exactly like Mother. Too much like her for it to be a coincidence.

A scary possibility entered Lavender's brain. Was she crazy? Was she having a conversation with herself inside her own mind?

If it's not a coincidence, then what is it?

Lavender couldn't bear to think about that. She couldn't be crazy. But what other explanation was there for the voices in her head?

Maybe it's her daughter.

That was the last thing Lavender heard before she lost it. The event of the past hour all came crashing down on her- being treated as an outcast by everyone (as always), being treated different by everyone (as always), being stubbornly held in the dark about her mother by her father (as always), being deemed untrustworthy by the clothing-maker, being bullied by the two girls, being yelled at by the cook, and now hearing voices inside her head...it was too much. Lavender crumpled down to the floor, buried her face in her hands, and let the tears she had been fighting to keep back fall.