"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"How come I don't have a custodian?"
"I am your custodian."
"I mean, like the other trolls. Why don't I have a lusus?"
The Dolorosa paused at the question, then sighed. It would come eventually, along with a plethora of others of similar nature.
She looked down at the diminutive troll whose tiny hand clung to her own. He looked up at her with questioning eyes, his brow furrowed, determined to get an answer.
She took a deep breath, then pulled him along with her. "Come," she said softly. "It is time you knew."
She led him across the other trolls' hives, ignoring the snarls from some of the more vicious lusii, and towards the caverns she once labored in, serving the Mother Grub.
They stopped near the edge of a large crater.
The Dolorosa stared right at the center of the hole. "This is where I found you." she said, looking down at her ward.
He gave her a dissatisfied pout in return. "That doesn't answer my question."
"Let me finish," the Dolorosa replied. She beckoned him to come closer to the edge of the hole. "You know lusii choose the wrigglers they will care for based on their blood color..."
"Yeah?"
"And you can find thousands of hues in the hemospectrum, which then determine their place in our society."
The little one listened intently. "Right..."
She continued. "For example, my blood. It is jade green. It's rare, but not unheard of. People of my class have a purpose to serve based on that."
"That's kind of stupid."
"I never said it was perfect."
"Okay, so where does that leave me?"
The Dolorosa looked at her little companion with a pained smile, then kneeled in front of him. "Little one," she began, "I do not know."
The younger troll suddenly looked panicked. "Why? What's wrong with me?"
She put a thin finger to his lips to silence him. "Hush," she said, then extracted a small object folded in a cloth from her robes. "I've kept this all this time so that one day I would explain this to you." She unwrapped the bundle to reveal a bright red fragment that resembled the exterior of a recuperaccoon.
The little troll looked at the fragment and picked it up, running his fingers along its surface. "It's shiny," he said. "What is it?"
The Dolorosa smiled, albeit weakly. "It's a piece of a wriggler's shell. As you know, wrigglers sport their blood color on the outside of their bodies before they develop arms and legs and outgrow their grub bodies to begin their trials."
She folded the cloth and put it away. "This shell fragment belongs to you."
The little troll looked at her, puzzled. "But I've never seen this blood color before."
His custodian let out a small chuckle. "Neither have I."
The boy's expression suddenly darkened. "Is something wrong with me? Why didn't a lusus pick me?" He started breathing heavily. "What does this mean? Is this even inthe hemospectrum?" His lip quivered. "W-what am I?" he asked her, his eyes filling with bright red tears.
The Dolorosa then took the boy in her arms and embraced him. "Hush, little one," she whispered.
She let him calm down and step away from her hug. His face was streaked with thin red lines running down his cheeks. She reached up and wiped one of his cheeks with her thumb. "You," she said, "are my child. I found and took you because there are no lusii with your blood color and surely you would have died if you had been left here alone."
The little troll grabbed at his cloak and blew his nose. "Am I a freak?"
The older troll took his face in her hands. "Never." she said, smiling. "You are different, yes. You exist outside the hemospectrum and outside of what our society has determined for our race. But that isn't necessarily a bad thing." She wiped his other cheek. "You are different, therefore you can make a difference. The lower blood castes are abused by the highbloods because of this system and so the upper classes propagate violence. But being so different, you can challenge that."
The little troll cracked a small smile. "Really?"
"Absolutely."
"Then.. then, those dreams I keep having... about things that might happen... that's okay too?"
"Of course."
"It's still hard to deal with."
"Yes, you will suffer for your differences," said the Dolorosa. "And you may be persecuted. But remember this." She took his tiny hands in hers.
"What?" he asked.
"You will always be my little one."