Disclaimer: The characters in this chapter actually are mine, as is the plot. The chapter titles do not belong to me – they are the lyrics of the song "Patterns," by Simon and Garfunkle.

A/N: This is the first of several re-edited chapters. Upon finishing this story, I realized that I had an immense stylistic change midway through, and that bothered me. Hence, as soon as I finished, I decided to rewrite the beginning. In the future, there will be no major plot changes, though hopefully my rewrites will make the chapters better. As always, a million thanks to Valgorúth, my most excellent beta, who has been an amazing help since I contracted him two summers ago. Please review!

The Night Set Softly With the Hush of Falling Leaves

It was a balmy September day when Catherine Night walked into the first day of eleventh grade. The tiny girl sat down at a desk, and tried to ignore the inevitable mocking laughs that insisted on following her throughout life. Though she was sixteen, Catherine looked as though she had only been alive for seven or eight years.

She rubbed her ear temperamentally, wishing that the day that had just barely started would be finished. She sighed, cursing the parents she never knew. The tips of her ears frequently itched her for no particular reason, and she blamed the people who deserted her before she got the chance to know them for that annoyance, along with everything else she hated about her life.

Finally, the teacher entered and began to call roll. Luckily for Catherine, the homeroom stayed the same throughout all of school, so she did not have to convince the teacher that she was actually supposed to be in that class. The woman already knew that she was a freak who never grew.

Eventually, all of the new schedules were handed out, and Catherine stared at hers with trepidation. She had gym, the bane of her existence, first period. Even worse than the fact that she'd have get the 'pleasure' of waking up with torture, the gym was on the opposite end of the school from all of her other classes. Her school system was very small, and had all of the students in the same building. Consequently, grade levels were fairly contained to their own sections of the building. Usually it was a great system that allowed Catherine ample time to get to all of her classes, but getting anywhere from the gym was a hike. Not good news for a girl who was just over four feet.

The bell rang, and Catherine shot up from her desk, throwing her bookbag over her shoulder. It would not do to be late to class on the first day of school! She raced down three flights of stairs across the school building. Finally, she got to the gym, where she sat down with her class. Glancing around, she saw that was entirely composed of juniors and seniors. As always seemed to happen to her, none of the people she was casually friendly with were in her class.

She smirked when she saw a couple of people who had been in her class last year. She'd overheard them talking to each other about the fact that they had failed gym. That was one thing that she could never understand. She'd always gotten a perfect score in gym, despite the obvious physical obstacles that made her a much worse athlete than the rest of her class. She knew from experience that all you had to do to get a good grade was to wear the right clothes and pretend to participate. Shaking her head, she turned back to the teacher, who had just arrived.

The woman was fairly young nad had only been working in the school for a year or two. If Catherine remembered correctly, she was the cheerleading coach. The woman began to take attendance. When she got to Catherine's name, she paused.

"Sweety, they must have put you in the wrong class. There are a few classes with younger grades over there." She pointed across the gym.

Catherine did not have the patience to deal with things like that. Her young face twisted into an angry snarl. "I'm a junior. I'm in the right class. I'm a midget, so learn to live with it." Several of the other students snickered, and Catherine glared at them. It was going to be a long forty minutes.

The rest of the morning passed in much the same fashion. Throughout her classes, Catherine kept overhearing taunts from her fellow classmates. She'd always had abnormally good hearing, though in situations like this it was not always a good thing. Catherine had never been social by nature, which only compounded the problem created by her slowed physical growth.

With all of her heart, Catherine wished that she could be a normal student. She knew that if she'd had a normal growth pattern, she probably would be considered pretty. Her long, black hair framed a pale face in thick ringlets. Her bone structure was delicate, giving her the unnaturally thin appearance so praised in her culture. Her eyes seemed a little too large for her face, and were ever so slightly slanted. Her skin was a milky pale created by days spent reading in the shade of trees rather than running in the sun. Maybe if she looked more like the other students, she wouldn't be so reclusive. Maybe then she would have gotten some more friends.

During her lunch period, Catherine sat alone. She normally tried to have somewhere to go during lunch, but she had not yet had time to visit any of the teachers she normally helped to see who could have a student aide during lunch. So alone she was, left to glare over a book at the air-headed girls who took over the rest of the table. She tried to ignore their insipid chatter of their bodies and their boyfriends. Finally, lunch was over.

After what seemed like much longer than a couple of hours, the day was finished. With relief, Catherine dropped her books into her locker and began to walk home. Because her town was so small, almost everyone walked. Some people drove or got rides, but there was no busing offered. The orphanage where Catherine lived was on the outskirts, but she didn't mind the walk. It was a beautiful day, and no matter what the time of the year was, Catherine loved the feel of the wind blowing through her hair. Besides, it was a lot nicer to be outside then in the orphanage, bored out of her mind.

Catherine walked slowly, savoring the feeling of being alone with her thoughts and nature. She was about to cut into the woods, which would take her the long way home through an overgrown path when she heard a yell. Rolling her eyes, Catherine crossed the street and looked down the alleyway where the scream had originated.

What she saw disgusted her. Two large guys had cornered a lanky kid who she recognized from her gym class. As she knew none of them, she assumed that they were all seniors. The two refrigerator-shaped men were pushing the other kid, and it looked as though they were getting ready to beat him up. Catherine shook her head. Why was it that she was the only one who figured out how to fight? True, she was mostly self-taught, but she was at least able to take care of herself.

Before the immense bullies could throw the first punch, Catherine ducked in under them and stood in front of their target. She had dropped her bag at the entrance of the alley. "What the hell are you doing?" She confronted the large boys.

"Move it, Shorty. We don't hurt girls." The bully snickered, making it obvious that he didn't follow that particular principal of chivalry.

"And I try not to hurt idiots, so I'd suggest you move. Then, we'd both be happy. I'm giving you until ten to move." She traded glares with the larger boys, giving as good as she got until they finally broke out laughing. She rolled her eyes. Why did everyone insist on underestimating her based on her appearance?

Finally, one of the boys moved to shove her out of the way. With an effort to get a firm grip, Catherine grabbed his arm and used his own momentum to spin him towards the wall, away from the boy who was staring at her in shock. The other bully, incensed at her treatment of his friend, swung a punch at her. Catherine dove beneath it, punching at his gut. The older boy doubled over, pain written on his face and hate in his eyes. Ruthlessly, Catherine punched him in the eye and then quickly in the nose. The large boy fell over, curled up in pain.

Catherine straitened, and brushed her hands off on her pants. She noticed that the boy in the alley had not done the smart thing and run while he had the chance. He was now watching Catherine, an emotion akin to awe on his face.

"That was…" His voice held open admiration, but then testosterone and pride took over. "I didn't need your help. I was doing fine on my own. You just had to interfere, didn't you?" By the end of his little rant, he seemed to have realized how embarrassing it was to have been saved by a girl less than half his size.

Catherine just looked at him. "You imbecile. I just saved your skin, and you can't even thank me? Speaking of which, why were you just standing there? If I hadn't been able to handle them, or if some of there buddies had come along, what would you have done? I can't believe that you were stupid enough to just stand there. I should hit you too now, you ungrateful little wretch!" She glared at the boy.

"Little?" He glared at the diminutive girl in front of him with cold blue eyes. "Look who's talking! And I do not need anyone to protect me, especially not a girl ten years younger than me!" He was practically shaking in anger. "Want me to prove it? I'll fight you right now!" He rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt in what would obviously be a futile gesture.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "First of all, I'm not seven. I'm a junior. I'm just short. Second of all, I know how to handle myself in a fight. I've read a lot, and I can pick up techniques easily by watching them. I can defend myself, obviously. Stop being such an asshole." She looked up, giving the brunette boy a glare to match his own. After at least half a minute, Catherine turned away with a scowl and stalked away, sensing that their staring contest could have lasted all night.

Finally, Catherine reached her 'home'. She brushed past the door monitor's questions and hurried to her room. Or at least the room where her bed was. It couldn't be properly called hers, as twelve girls of assorted ages shared the same room. It was an half of the floor of the building, with the boys a floor up, and the dining hall and public spaces on the ground floor below them.

In the room, twelve small beds lined the walls. Around each bed was a space for a dresser and whatever else each girl wanted. There was one other room on the floor, and it housed twelve desks for the girls to work at. At their bedsides, many of the girls had posters of their favorite actors on their space on the wall. Several girls had small plush chairs or rugs on the floor space.

Catherine's space was different. In the small beam of light that came in from the window to hit the floor in front of her bed, she had many small potted plants. She had always had a green thumb, and the plants flourished under her watchful eye. By her bedside, there were stacks of books. Most had been bought with the small allowance that each orphan received, though there was also a sizeable stack that had been taken from the local library.

Climbing onto her bed, Catherine took the top book off of the stack closest to the head. It was a non-fiction, but not so most people could tell. The book was a thick tome procured from the library detailing magic in the Middle Ages. Since Catherine had been young, the arcane arts had always fascinated her. Thus, nearly her entire collection of reading material had something to do with magic, whether fact or fiction.

As she read, she caught herself wishing that the magic could be real, as she often did. Naturally, it was not for lack of trying that she didn't believe in it. For years, she'd tried every spell she'd come across in her non-fiction books, and many from fictional books as well. Once, she could have sworn that she made a spark, but she was never able to make it happen again.

After a few hours, Catherine's reverie was broken by the bellow of Matron telling the world that it was dinner time. Matron was a very annoying woman by Catherine's judgment. She seemed to think that if her orphans weren't babied and coddled, they would become demented criminals. She didn't seem to understand that most of the older orphans would have rather been left alone.

"Cathy! How was your day, sweetie?" Catherine winced at the nickname. She shouldn't have gotten up from her book so quickly.

"Oh, it was wonderful, Matron." She rolled her eyes.

"That's great, darling!" Obviously, Matron had not caught the sarcasm dripping from Catherine's statement.

Dinner passed slowly for Catherine. As in school, she had no close friends in the orphanage. Despite her slow physical growth, Catherine had matured very early mentally, and she frequently found the other orphans childish. It seemed as though she simply had no interest in being friends with the others, and they no interest in being friends with her. Sometimes, Catherine did get lonely, but she often felt that living in her books was easier, and certainly kinder. Besides, with no friends, there was no one to betray you, no one to desert you, no one to disappoint you.

Finally, it was time for bed. Catherine washed up, and curled up under the covers with her book again. After another couple of hours, she shut the book, exhausted. She turned off her reading light and readjusted the pillow. As she began to drift off, she idly wondered if she would have that odd dream again…