Seeing the pain in their eyes, the tailor promised this.
"I will love this child as my own blood, care for them to the best of my ability, and ensure they have a good life. But, they will know, you are also their parents. Even away, you will be in the heart."
https://peakd.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-04495-l111-fated-family -- Anon Guest
Kismet Foundling's first memory was the careful flash of a needle and thread through soft cotton cloth, dyed with madda. Rennie was her seat and the pilot of the needle. Gentle, callused hands kept Kizmet's tender fingers from the sharp metal. She teethed on a piece of silver Dragonscale, part of the charm of protection that she wore whenever she was awake, and hung over her crib for sleep.
When Rennie read her stories, Wraithvine was always "Unty Wraithvine," and sometimes ze told her of Uncle Bibrid and their rescue of Kismet when she was a baby.
She was six years old when she learned that babies had other ways of coming to their families.
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