I don't know what I am. I don't know where I came from. What I do know is that I am different.

A great strom raged whipping through the trees when I was born. Uprooting them, tearing down anything in its path. It gave no warning of its arrival. It gave no warning of its depart.  Suddenly, breaking open through the clouds raining down the brightest sunset. That of what must have been the palest skies and dazling lights. Blending through shades of crimson, yellow and orange. That is all I remember from my childhood, what little there was of it.

My parents died in a tragic accident (at least that is what I was told). One which I have no recollection of yet suffer the inevitable consequences of. I have no relatives, no one to lay claim to me. At least no one who wanted to.

They say they found me swadled on the road side. Layed atop a crowning  of flowers, though there was no indication that they had been planted. Inside the most delicatly embroidered muslin. Decorated with the finest silk threads. Swallows and starlings swooping through the ivy, which wove through meadows and willow branches. Here it held a name. Stiched in a fine hand, woven through the scenery.
N,
A,
V,                                                                                                                                                                                                       I

My supposed initials; Navi. My name, and the only thing that gives me any indication as to where I come from.

Not long after my discovery, I was placed with my replacements. Forced into a life. A life which I wanted no partaking in. However, like many things in my life I didn't have much of a say in the matter.

Boisse. The family I was to live the next 12 years of my repetative, dreary life with. The family which was supposed to support, love and protect but only fed anger, hate and fear.

Charlie and Annabelle, my guardians people who gave no second thought to the child they had taken in all those years ago. Nurtured, if it could be called such a thing. She was just there. Another mouth to feed. Someone who would make the food for those mouths. Clean up after the matter and be sent off to bed with no more than a mat to lie her head upon.

But Zoe...she was... different. She understood. Wanted desperately to understand. Took time for me. To listen. Cared not for what she was given but what she already had. She was their biological daughter but treated me... treated me more as a sister.

This was my life my undenied destiny. No spectacle of wonder. Nothing special at all.
Until...