6/26/2023 0 Comments Wren the stolen heirThat’s why, when the monsters came, she knew it was because she had been wicked. By the time she was eight, she could lift bags of groceries that her adoptive mother struggled with.Īs a child, Wren read lots of fairy tales. And she could play in the snow for hours, constructing elaborate tunnels and mock-fighting with icicles, coming inside only when called.Īlthough she appeared bony and anemic, she was strong. Her lip color changed like a mood ring, staying bluish and purple even in summer, turning pink only when close to a fire. Her foster parents bundled her up in jackets and coats and mittens and gloves, but unlike her sister, she was never cold. She was a wizened little thing, too thin, made of sticks.Īs she grew, her skin retained a slight bluish cast, resembling skimmed milk. By the time she was brought to the hospital, her limbs were blue with cold. A passerby discovered a toddler sitting on the chilly concrete of an alley, playing with the wrapper of a cat-food container.
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