Chapter 1

I sit beneath the ancient oak tree, the only witness to my mother’s passing and my own silent cries.

The sound of the wind whirling through the grass is like a soothing hum, like a lullaby to my soul, calming my nerves and making me feel relaxed.

   I looked at the farm, the place that had been my sanctuary and my burden. The weight of my grief felt crushing, like a heavy fog that refused to lift as every corner of the house seemed to whisper memories of my foster mom, leaving me gasping for air, searching for a glimpse of the comfort and love she once provided.

   The loss of my foster Mom was a heavy anchor of grief dragging me down, its heavy chain wrapping around my heart, making every breath a struggle, every thought a painful reminder of what I’d lost.

    I have been juggling my career and trying to run the entire farm on my own, but lately the farm has gotten in the way of my career, and I do not want to lose my job at the vet. I like my job and I love working with animals, but the farm needed me. It is all I have left of my foster mom. She loved this farm.

    Mom would often tell the story of how she discovered me on this farm, a tiny bundle of joy, twenty years ago, her eyes shining with love as she recalled the night she came home, and she could hear a plaintive wail that echoed through the air. It sounded like it came from the forest’s direction.

     She got her flashlight from the truck and headed in the direction of the whaling sound. She was hesitant to go in at first because who knew what could be lurking in the dark? What if the thing making the sound was hurt? She swallowed hard, pushing her fears aside as she entered the forest.

    She followed the whaling cries deep into the forest, realizing that it was deeper in than she thought. When she was just about to give up and call for help, she came across a little woven basket.

    As mom gazed into the basket, she was met with a vision of pure wonder, a tiny, delicate face, framed by hair as white as freshly fallen snow, and eyes that shone like the brightest blue skies on a sunny day.

    Monica, my foster mom, did not know who would have left a baby in the forest. Anything could have happened; wolves or bears could have stumbled upon the basket, and it would have been a horrific sight.

   Mom took me from the basket and rushed with me to the hospital to make sure that everything was okay. Mom told the hospital where she had found me, and they called social services.

    When social services team expressed their inability to accommodate a new arrival, without hesitation, Mom stepped forward, offering a temporary sanctuary for a tiny, vulnerable stranger – me – until the authorities could unravel the mystery of my past and reunite me with my rightful family.

    Years passed by and no one could find a trace of my biological parents. Mom applied for permanent guardianship, and she became my foster Mom and legal guardian.

   Growing up as a foster child didn't come without difficulties. The cruel taunts of my classmates still echo in my mind, their mocking words piercing my young heart like a thorn, as they ridiculed my snow-white hair and porcelain skin, making me feel like an outcast, a fragile, peculiar thing.

   The pain of their teasing still lingers, like a scar that refuses to heal.

    I tried to brush off all the mean comments of the kids and push through high school and when I finally left, I found a job at our local Vet.

   I always felt drawn to animals, more so than humans. It was like I could understand the way they were feeling.

   I worked hard trying to save up money to go to college so that I could one day become a Vet, but after Mom's passing I had to reach into my savings in order to provide for the animals on the farm and pay for utilities.

     The Clinic where I worked offered me a position as a Vet after I had completed my training and qualified as a legal vet, but now I don't know anymore.

    That dream has become a far-distant memory of a child's dream as I don’t have the funds to complete my studies to become one, and soon I will have to sell the farm because I won’t be able to run and care for the animals on my own.

     The past two months after Mom's passing, the darkness of the night would bring a new kind of terror, as whispers crept into my mind like thieves in the shadows, their soft murmurs a constant reminder that I was losing my grip on reality, leaving me questioning my own sanity.

    Lately, the more I thought about it, a restlessness stirred within me, a growing sense of discontent that I couldn’t shake, like a wild bird beating its wings against the bars of a gilded cage, yearning to flee the life I knew and soar into the unknown.