There will be a lot of changes. Quite a bit. Fair warning.

Also, as I understand Gypsies speak Romani… but I'd feel bad if I entirely butchered that language. So I'll only partly butcher other languages. My apologies other languages.

Hello reader, I see you've found my story. I don't know how she's has been spreading it, but if you think it boring, it's not. I wish it were though. I wish I were a quiet blond, with no sense of rebellion and only goodness in my soul. I wish it was so apparent I was good that I could make friends with birds and mice. That I was so admirable I could catch a prince in one evening.

But I'm not.

Let me explain

When I was four, I standing with my father and sister.

We were sad. Autumn leaves danced through the air. Isabeau held my hand. She was ten. She looked like father. I looked like mother. She had red hair with brown eyes that looked like a fawn. She looked down at me. I looked up at her with mother's teal eyes. She hugged me. I hugged her back.

Winter came with snow. Isabeau and I still went out to mother's grave every day. Father was somewhere... we didn't really know where.

By the time spring took the blanket of snow from mother's grave Father had gotten a new mother and two new sisters. Mother was kind, but she made my heart feel strange when I was around her. Her eyes were black. Brannon was 7 and Avoca was 5, their eyes were black as well. I did not like how black their eyes were. I tried to avoid them.

Father went on many trips, to try and regain some money. Mother wasn't nice when he left. She yelled. Isabeau would always come to save me.

"Stop!" Isabeau would yell when step mother would start to yell.

"Someone needs to be punished," step mother would hiss. I would cry, trying to hide behind my shaking hands.

"I'll take it all," Isabeau would yell, ripping me from her grasp. I would cling to Isabeau and cry harder. Step mother would rip Isabeau up and take her to the stables. Later, I would sit in the attic with Isabeau.

"Promise you'll get away as often as you can, as soon as you can. Don't look back," she whispered. I nodded.

"Where will we go?" I asked meekly, trying not to wake step mother up.

"Not we, I'll keep her from chasing you, you just get far away,"

"I won't leave you alone!" I demanded quietly

"Yes you will, listen we're going to town tomorrow. Do exactly as I say."

I nodded.

I was six years old at the time. She was twelve.

XXXXX

We went to town; Isabeau boosted me into the luggage platform, moving the trunks around to shield me from view. Isabeau would then run off to do some chore step mother assigned. I felt tears sliding down my pale face. The owners would quickly find me however, as Isabeau's attempts to re-balance the luggage failed. One time they were very kind.

"Now, who is this little fairy?" the man would say laughing.

"I'm not sure," the lady said leaning on his shoulder to look at me. A little boy ran up to us, looking up at the platform at me. I stared at him with wide eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked. I shook my head, looking back up at the man, terrified.

"How did you get in here?" the man asked. I shook my head again, shaking with fear. Step mother was mean whenever I did something wrong. This was something wrong.

"Dear," the lady whispered, "she probably fell on when we stopped in town." I shook my head, jumping off the platform.

"She is a fairy, go on moonbeam, what's your name" the man laughed. I liked his laugh. I smiled at him.

"She likes you father," the boy said walking up to me, "can we keep her?"

"Of course not Simon!" the lady laughed, "She's a little girl, not a lost puppy. Besides, you'll get a little brother or sister soon anyway. No, we must find her mother." With that they climbed into the carriage, with me, and drove back to town.

When we got there, the driver spoke loudly for step mother to come and claim me. She shoved through the crowds, desperately. I thought she loved me then, but her black eyes were still the same. They scared me. She grabbed me from the man's arms.

"No!" I shrieked loudly and clung to the man. Step mother ripped me off though.

"Darling, I was so worried. What have I told you about climbing on things? Everyone's been asking for you!" she scolded.

"No!" I cried, kicking, "no, no, no!" I said leaning for Isabeau who grabbed me from Her arms.

"Ah, so there are two fairy children!" the man laughed looking at my sister.

"Yes," She cooed softly, "these are my daughters, Brannon and Avoca. Those two were from my husband's last marriage"

"Those two are the ones we are speaking of," the lady said powerfully, "they don't seem to be cared for much with you."

"These are my children, I do my best with what is given to me," She hissed

XXXXX

"Stop it! Stop it!" I screamed loudly, banging on the door with both fists. The door opened and Isabeau was thrown onto me.

"Take care Aviana, those who do wrong must be punished," She said walking away, "and you've always been in the wrong. One day Isabeau will not be here to protect you," She growled.

"Isabeau!" I said helping her up and taking her into the house.

"Avi, you have to get out of here. Go to our Aunt, she cannot be as bad." I shook my head.

"Do it Avi, she lives north of here, next to a town called Brighton. Her name is Millicent, the people should know her. She lives in a castle." I slung her arm over my shoulder and started to leave the house.

"No Avi, she'll look for you there. I'll keep her here, you leave. Go on." She gave me mother's old dark green cloak

So I left her, and went north to Brighton, riding on wagons and in caravans. Travel was good for me. It drove away all the anxieties of that house. I also found out how to live in the woods. It was good. I almost just wanted to live out here and not go to Millicent's.

But then it started raining. It was very cold rain. And I heard a wolf howl.

I ran up the steps to Millicent's castle. I knocked on the door. A tall thin man opened it. "Name?" he droned

"Aviana Silvan. My father is Millicent's brother," I said wiping the rain from my cheek.

"Wait here," he yawned closing the door, leaving me in the rain. I looked behind me, suspiciously. Wolves tracked the weak; I was small so was seen as weak. I looked up at the door as I heard noises from inside.

"Get off my land!" a fat lady screeched, ripping the door open and shoving me down the stairs. I rolled and tumbled down them, until I finally came to a stop at the bottom. I tried to get back up, shaking horribly.

"Your father married her, that freak from the country, Ella. I hated her!" she shrieked flying down to me.

"Madam," the tall thin man said from behind her, "just send the girl back."

"You. Are. Not. Welcome. Here!" the lady yelled hitting me.

I was 9.

XXXXX

Isabeau and I were lying on the floor of the attic, burning with fever. We had both caught an unknown disease; father was home so we needn't work.

"Avi," Isabeau whispered, "if you make it, get out of here. Leave and never return. Don't look back."

"Why won't you come with me?"

"Sometimes you have to sacrifice one for the good of another. Remember that Avi. I love you so much." She kissed my forehead and I wrapped my arms around her neck and went to sleep.

Isabeau died the next day; I rose from the fever and looked back at her. Her red curls and few freckles stood out on her pale, lifeless face.

"Isabeau!" I cried, shaking her. "Isabeau, no please! Don't leave me alone! Please!" Father bounded up the stairs, awaked by my desperate screams. I clung to Isabeau, but her fawn eyes just stared at the ceiling. I cried over her. Father put his hand on me, trying to comfort me.

"Oh Aviana," She said triumphantly, disguised in pity, "I suppose you survived because she grew so cold."

"Did she die to save me?" I asked father. He nodded, tears trailing down his face. Step mother looked disgusted and ordered Isabeau to be taken away before she began to stink.

I was 12 when she died.

I ran away every summer after that. I ran everywhere, usually catching a ride on traveling carriages or caravans. I couldn't get far enough away though. She would always find me and catch me. I don't know why she went to all the trouble. I thought she would be glad to be rid of me.