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Ember About
Seven years. It’s been seven years. Long, lonely years that I’ve spent out here lost in these woods. I say lost, but I suppose that isn’t exactly true. I know right where I am, and indeed where everyone else is, I just have no care to have the two things coincide. History has taught me that that is a decision that most other people would agree with. In twenty-two years I haven’t found one person who would like to see me come out of my seclusion. Will you be that person? Will you find the human in me that no one else can see? Eyes don’t see beyond the cat ears, the slanted eyes. They don’t see that I’m as much human as I am cat. I don’t understand why people seem to think that I prefer to be this way. That I would choose to be shunned by society and live a life of solitude. Never loving, never being loved. Never knowing what it is to share my life with someone who cares. I did not choose this life, it was handed to me and I couldn’t give it back. When they took my parents from me and left me to raise a five year old sister when I was barely twelve years old myself they gave me little chance. When, three years later, they killed my sister before my eyes, they condemned me. Now I am no longer a shifter, sometimes human, sometimes a cat of immeasurable beauty, no, now I am simply a halfling, neither one nor the other, but some terrible blend of the two, unable to become one or the other. At least the dear and the rabbits are decent company, though one can’t expect much conversation from them. No. I will not take your pity. After seven years I wouldn’t know what to do with it, nor care to find out. Keep it for someone who truly deserves it. No, I won’t accept your lies of sympathy, either. In seven years I have needed no one, I need no one now.
My name? Ember.
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