October 25, 1968

Sometimes Rahne was convinced she was dreaming. Any moment now she was going to wake up and the house would be gone, along with Moira, her new clothes, and the book with the beautiful Bible with the rest of all the stories she'd never gotten to read. When she woke up she would find nothing but a pile of leaves and the chill of the morning. If she was very unlucky, she'd be back in the orphanage.

But every morning, Rahne woke up in a warm bed. There would be light coming into the room, a room filled with things that she could touch and use. New clothes were appearing all the time, clothes that Rahne wasn't sure how to get into or what all of them were. She had stared at the socks for ten minutes before Moira had come up to check on her.

And Moira. There was always Moira. Deborah had just been something to call her when she didn't know her name, although Rahne sometimes wondered why Moira wasn't named Deborah It wasn't the name that Rahne used for her in her head, but that was a name that Rahne seldom dared think, let alone speak. It would ruin things.

She was a mystery. Rahne sometimes felt that, even though the rest of her new life was real, Moira definitely wasn't. She seemed to want to talk to her, to ask her what she was feeling. Rahne didn't answer often, mostly because the question was so strange. What was she thinking? What was she feeling?

The answer to the second one was easier than the first. So much of Rahne's life had been action instead of thought. Thought took a long time, and often she only had seconds. Rahne estimated that she'd only had a few seconds between finding out that the men were going to kill her to hearing their steps on the stairs. The open window had never seemed so inviting, and her ability never so useful. There hadn't even been any time to get her book.

The next year or so had been a blur of sleeping outside, of scrounging in the trash. The number of times she'd been sick had scared her. What if she got so sick she died? No one would care, no one except Him. Sometimes she wondered if it would be better to let that happen, because if she fell asleep and she didn't wake up, the struggle would be over.

But she kept waking up, and so she kept going. When the snows came she had been able to find a place beneath a bridge to curl up. As both a wolf and a girl she had managed to steal food and dash off, although she had never been able to pick what it was.

Now, every night, Moira gave her a plate of something warm. She often asked Rahne what she liked to eat. It was another question that Rahne had no idea how to answer. People liked to eat things? Was food normally good? Rahne had had good food before, but it had never been something that she had been able to request.

She looked out the window from her seat at the table. The leaves on the trees had begun to change color. Moira said that it was October outside. Rahne believed her. She'd started to ask her questions about Halloween, something else that Rahne didn't know about.

Oftentimes Moira's questions made her feel stupid. She knew that Moira wasn't trying to make her feel that way, but still. Rahne didn't know about anything that she'd mentioned, things that sounded like she should know.

There was a fear, not a big one, but certainly one that edged its way into her mind, that Moira would get tired of her. She already didn't know how to walk, and speech was so hard sometimes. Every time she bit at an itch or licked herself clean she could see the concern on Moira's face.

She had no doubt that Moira was a gift. Perhaps He had taken pity on her, but Moira was already hurt. Rahne knew it went beyond the pain in her arm and stomach where the wicked men had shot her. There was another pain too, one she was trying to ignore. Why should she have to deal with Rahne when there was so much else?

Moira didn't get tired of her though. Every day she smiled at Rahne, every day her voice was patient more than it was tired. Every night she would let Rahne curl up to her when she read to her from the book, a different version of her own book, but with no pictures.

There were even nights, when the storms were loud and Rahne could all but feel the cold bite of the wind and rain on her skin, that she let Rahne sleep in her room. Moira would let her snuggle next to her uninjured side, let her sleep there for as long as she wanted.

Rahne had to be careful though. This was a precious privilege, and she couldn't wear it out. So she didn't go for every nightmare, or for every storm. It was only the ones that frightened her most. It was better, saving this luxury.

Something fell onto the table. Rahne looked at the large orange object with surprise. Moira was standing on the other side of the table, sweating and beaming at her.

"People don't do Jack-o-Lanterns so much in Scotland," Moira said, "But I thought it might be fun if you and I made one."

Rahne bit her lip.

"Dunno how," she mumbled.

"That's good, because I figured I would teach you," she said, "It's easy, and it's fun."

She turned away and pulled out a black marker.

"We used to do this all the time at my house when I was a little girl," Moira said.

She handed the marker to Rahne.

"Draw a face on it," she said.

Rahne stared at the object.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because it's going to be really pretty when we're done," Moira said, "We're going to carve a face on it."

Rahne looked down at the marker.

"But...why?" she asked.

Moira knelt beside her, wincing as she did so. Her ribs must still be hurting. Rahne's foot had healed: she just wished that Moira

"Don't you think he deserves a smile?" she asked.

Rahne pursed her lips and looked at the object. She swallowed and then drew a loopy smiley face on it. She quickly drew two circles for eyes and, after a moment, she drew another circle for its nose. It barely looked like a face, but it did look more cheerful.

"Alright," Moira said, "That's a nice face. Do you think you can make the smile a little wider?"

Biting her lip, Rahne used the marker to give him a wider smile. He looked friendly now.

"That's great," Moira said, "When we put the light inside it it's going to shine through really well."

"We're putting light in it?" Rahne asked.

"Yes," said Moira, "I'll show you how later."

She got to her feet again and hesitated.

"I need to carve the top of the pumpkin," she said, "So I'm going to need a knife, alright?"

"What's a pumpkin?" she asked.

"This," replied Moira, patting the orange object.

"And what's that?" Rahne asked.

"It's like a vegetable. Or a fruit," said Moira, "It has seeds. We're going to be baking them up later. I always loved it when my mother would bake them up. Better than popcorn."

At least Rahne knew what popcorn was. Moira had made some up for her earlier that week.

"Okay," Moira said, "I'm going to get the knife now, alright?"

Rahne blinked at her, barely understanding. Moira nodded and then withdrew a sharp knife slowly from one of the cupboards. Rahne immediately jumped away from Moira, drawing her feet up to her chest. The whimper left her mouth unbidden and Moira dropped the knife.

She held her hands out flat and again knelt in front of Rahne. Rahne didn't flinch as Moira took her hands.

"Rahne, I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't...I..."

The pain on Moira's face made Rahne feel like a fool all over again. She had tried to warn her. Rahne just hadn't understood.

"It's called a knife?" Rahne asked.

Moira squeezed her hands.

"Those men had them, didn't they?" she asked.

Rahne nodded her head. Moira sighed.

"Rahne, I will never hurt you," she said.

"I know," Rahne said.

Moira smiled, but she could still see some of the pain and fear in her eyes.

"It's more than that," said Moira, "I know that you've been hurt in the past. It kills me that I can't erase that, but I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

"But they can hurt you," blurted Rahne.

There was a pause. Moira shook her head slowly, her face strange as though she were figuring something out.

"No," she said, "They can't."

"But they-"

"This?" Moira asked.

She looked down at where Rahne knew that her ribs were bandaged and splinted.

"Rahne, this is nothing," she said, "If I..."

She swallowed.

"If something ever happened to you, and I couldn't stop it," Moira said, "And I lived, then the pain I felt would be a thousand times worse than this."

Rahne blinked, biting her lip, her tongue, anything to ground her to reality.

"You are the most important thing in my life," said Moira, "I want you to know that."

She hesitated, and then leaned forward and kissed Rahne's forehead. Rahne's eyes widened even as they welled with tears. She had kissed her. No one had ever done that before, just like no one had ever given her a home.

Moira moved away and cupped Rahne's face with her hand.

"We don't have to carve it if you don't want to you know," she said.

Rahne bit her lip, settling down to a slow, methodical motion. The lines on the pumpkin were squiggly, but he was smiling. She wanted him to really smile. Maybe it was just a vegetable, or a fruit, but she wanted to fill it with light.

Just like she felt now.

"No, let's," she said.

Moira got up, her movements slow and measured. She withdrew the knife and, although Rahne could feel fear rising inside her, she made herself watch while Moira carved the pumpkin out and scooped out the seeds inside. She put them into a bowl before washing her hands.

"Those are for later," Moira said.

Rahne nodded. Moira was just going on as though everything was normal, as though she hadn't just told Rahne the most amazing thing she had ever heard. It was a little scary, how comfortable this strange woman was with loving her. It made Rahne love her all the more.

As she watched, Moira lit a small candle and placed it inside the empty pumpkin. Rahne saw a vague flickering of light from inside the pumpkin as Moira put the top back on. She walked to the other side of the kitchen and turned off the light.

The jack-o-lantern glowed brightly, light shining throughout the smile. Rahne watched, transfixed by both the warmth and the light. If she wanted, she could reach out and touch it. It was right in front of her, no one barring her way.

Moira's arms gently wrapped around her. Rahne leaned into them, still staring at the jack-o-lantern. No, she didn't have to take the light and warmth. No one would stop her if she did, but she didn't have to take things. It was being offered to her in the form of the woman behind her, a true gift from Him.

And, her thoughts quiet, bathed in the light of the jack-o-lantern, with Moira's arms around her, Rahne let the silent tears stream down her cheeks. She let herself relax into someone else's care, and dared think the thought that she only brushed against in the night, the name she yearned to call Moira by.

Mom.