Sun Mote Copse I crave star damage

Weejay might have only had an infant's ounce of conscience, but she could tell you right now she did not like how her birth-day was going. Being a model child, she had done everything in her power to have a perfect birth -- only to have her sister do the exact opposite.

She wriggled with as much protest as a child her age could summon: in her brain she was thrashing, but to the outside world she had as much movement as a little cotton-ball in the wind. She didn't like the sensation of the wind, she didn't like the wet, and she didn't like being cold - all of these things were nameless to her, but certainly not intangible.

Suddenly she was scooped up, and carried off. As a potato, she didn't have much of a say -- not that Weejay would have fussed much about this new arrangement, being a model child and all.