I was always a strange girl. I was smaller and thinner than the other c***dren. I could hear things that they could not hear, and I noticed things the... did not see. I climbed alone into the mountains, higher than they dared to go. This scar on my face is from a fall from a rock. My mother said that I was born under a blood moon, and I know this is true because of what happened later. Even in a busy village, I often felt somehow apart from my people. Like any peasant c***d, I had known how. Ready for whatever he would want to do to her. The only problem was, that she couldn't bring herself to actually talk to him about it. It was too gross, too perverse, too taboo. What if he liked fantasizing about it sometimes, liked looking at it, but actually couldn't or wouldn't go through with something like that in real life? What if he judged her poorly for it? What she needed, was a way to breach the subject without it seeming like one of them was a pervert. She'd tried simply being less. More

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