There once was a little girl who had scales on the tops of her forearms and down her neck. Deep violet scales that shone in the sun. Rising from her back were curved, scaled wings that had an arching bent across the top and a series of curves ending in tips across the bottom. 

Her wings were so much unlike the feathery wings of the inhabitants of the land, and the scales down her arms were different from the feathery arms of the others all around her. She pretended that it didn't bother her. But it did. She was an outcast. And she knew it.

If her scales were not enough to set her apart, her cinnamon-tinted skin made her look even more the outcast amidst the peach-brown inhabitants of her town. But she thought didn't mind, though. She told herself that she didn't mind. 

She was sweet-mouthed and solemn, serious and diligent. Because she had to be. And she did her work, without complaining, with a sad smile on her face. Because she knew that she wasn't allowed to complain. She knew that the others would not want to hear it. 

She worked in a dress store. She worked for two women with feathery wings who ran the store. One woman had soft lavender feathers and another woman had light blue feathers. The two women were the best of friends, and the little girl was shared by them both. 

The child swept the floor of the dress store and kept all the racks neat and organized. She dusted the shelves and polished the wooden mannequins. But most of all, she sewed all the very intricate and detailed dresses that the two women designed. 

For the two women loved to design clothes. They had books and books of drawing paper that they would fill with many detailed designs for many very pretty robes. And they had many coloured pens and drawing pencils that they used to fill white pages with their plans. 

The women poured themselves over their work desks for many hours of the day, drawing and designing everything to be absolutely perfect, absolutely how they wanted it. Because, you see, dressmaking was their passion. It was what they loved to do in life. 

They spent as many hours, though, with all the townspeople who frequented the shops. They helped each and every person look through all the dresses and drawings and find the perfect match for them. Then they made the little girl take the customer's measurements and sew together the piece. 

All the people of the town loved the dress shop. They loved all the beautiful colours and and patterns and and flowing styles. They loved how bright and beautiful and full of joy the walls of the store were. The shop was the treasure of the town. The shining jewel in its crown. 

The townspeople loved the two women who ran the shop. For they were always so welcoming and generous. They were always so bright and cheery. They always knew just what to say to put a smile on the face of anyone who set foot in their store. The townspeople knew that they would take care of these women no matter what.

The townspeople did not really think of the little girl. She was as silent as a ghost and to them she was as dark as a shadow. She merely measured them and swept the floor and was not often seen by the townspeople. 

Not that they cared. They did not have to care about a dragon-winged little girl with strange scales and pointed wings. They did not have to give her a second thought. For she was as much a part of the dress shop as the shelves or mannequins were. The only difference was that she wasn't decked out in fancy, designed clothing like the mannequins were. 

The townspeople thought, why pay any mind to a strange little girl when they could be sharing the latest gossip? Why pay attention to someone with strange scales in place of feathers when they could be getting advice for their relationships? Why think about a strange cinnamon-skinned child when they could be looking through all the fantastical drawings in the design book? 

And so all their attention remained on the two women. 

And what fine attention it was. Along with the two women, the townspeople talked and laughed and gossiped and joked. They shared their lives and experiences and thoughts and dreams. They shared their hopes and plans and opinions and successes. And the two women shared all of their own right back. 

They were an invaluable part of the town, an invaluable part of the lives and social fabric of the town. Everyone was familiar with them and everyone was so glad to have gotten the chance to be friends with them. 

Now, these women made quite a fortune with their store. For people were willing to pay high prices for such fine, intricate work. And they were satisfied with what they received, and thought that the exorbitant prices were very much worth it. 

And so the women lived in a grand house, built of the finest wood in the land, with many large rooms with large, colour-tinted windows. They had many grand tables and desks and beds and chairs in their house, and their even had a grand piano, as well as a fine, golden harp. 

The little girl slept in a small closet within the grand house, on a bed that was made for large dogs. She fit into it if she curled up. And she told herself that it was good enough. She told herself that she didn't want anything more. 

The girl did not go to school. She knew that the other little girls and boys and children of the town did go to school. For, there would often be bright-faced, excited, joyous children coming after school ended to look through the displays of the shop. They never bought anything, but they talked excitedly in conversations that the little girl never paid attention to. 

She spent most of her days sitting by a sowing machine, surrounded by pins and needles and pieces of fabric. She told herself that it wasn't too much. That it wasn't too much work. That it wasn't too hard. That she could take it. That she didn't mind. 

She told herself that she didn't mind anything. She could do her work and do it well and keep herself out of trouble. That was all that mattered, and it wouldn't do to keep being sad about the aspects of life that were out of her control. That was what she told herself. 

And so she talked with a sweet, happy, submissive tone every time she addressed the two women or the townspeople or anyone that she secretly, subtly knew was above her station. And she never let it show what she was truly feeling inside, not even to herself. And she smiled softly whenever she thought she was meant to. 

And she poured herself over her work, spending many hours sewing and sewing until the light went away and the candles were burned out. She told herself that it didn't make her tired, but she felt weary all the time all the same. She didn't know why she felt weary. Maybe it was just because of all the pressures of life. 

Meanwhile the two women talked and chatted and sold their dresses. And the townspeople were jovial and friendly with them both and thought them pillars of the community. 

One day the dress store was running out of fabric. This was not unusual, it happened every so often. But what was unusual was that the two women did not go to the fabric store themselves to pick out what they wanted. They sent the little girl, with detailed instructions for what she was supposed to buy and a threat that if she did not buy the right items or if she kept any of the money to herself her food rations would be cut in half. 

The girl promised that she would buy the right fabrics and that they could trust her. After all, she had never let them down before. She hadn't dared to. And so she made her way out the door, pockets filled with money. 

The fabric store was at the other end of the town, and the town itself was built in an arc around the forest. This meant that cutting through the forest would be much quicker for getting to the fabric store. And so the little girl cut through the forest, her wings tucked close to her back. 

The forest was beautiful, incredibly beautiful. And it filled her with a sense of melancholy, to witness all this beauty. For she knew that she could not see it often, that she would have to drink as much of it down as she could right now in this moment. The softness of the earth, the lushness of the plants, the way it all harmoniously wove together. 

She wondered if she should run away, get lost in the forest, live in the forest forever. She decided not to, that the town and the shop was all that she had known in her life, that the women provided for her and raised her for as long as she could remember. 

Within the forest she saw something strange, yet altogether beautiful. It was a round gate growing up from the ground, made of many wooded branches all woven together, with green leaves growing from them. She was amazed at how something could grow like that. And she decided to go through the gate. She was, after all, merely a child, and fantastical things intrigued her. 

As she stepped through to the other side, she saw the whole world change. But she could not place how exactly it changed. Everything seemed the same. But she did see a beautiful red and black butterfly fluttering past her. It sat on her shoulder before flying forwards. 

The child was so mesmerized by the butterfly that she forgot all about her task and started following it. It lead her up hills and down valleys, through thickets and meadows and groves. It found its way to a meadow ringed by tall oak trees with crowns of shining green. And it sat down on a blue wildflower. 

The girl looked down at the wildflower and when she looked up again, she saw an amazing being standing there before her. 

He was softly glowing, and translucent. He was both undeniably there and barely there. He had feathers and scales and fur and chitin all on his arms and neck and on his chest, that was bared. His wings constantly changed form. He wore a loincloth made of leaves and had a crown of leaves on his hair. 

Most importantly, he looked right at the little girl, in a way that no-one had ever looked at her before. His eyes were filled with kindness and love. And the girl had never seen such eyes before, especially not trained on her. 

"Who are you?" She asked. 

"My name is Robin. Who are you?" His voice was gentle and kind. Such a voice as she had never heard speaking to her. 

"My name is Alvee, though most people call me girl." Alvee smiled tentatively at the man. He smiled warmly back at her. 

"Do you want to come live with me in my world, Alvee?" He asked. The girl didn't hesitate to take a long time thinking about this. Finally, she answered. 

"No, I don't think I do."

"Why not?"

"The town is all I know. I belong there." 

"Do you really?"

"I must." 

"Well, Alvee, if I can't bring you with me to my world, at least let me grant you some wishes. What do you desire?" 

She thought about this for a long while. What did she desire? She desired many things, but she had repressed them all so that they were not known to her. A tumbling flow of feelings and wants raged through her. But from the swirling tide she could not pick out anything in particular. 

"I want to have less work," she finally spoke, settling on a wish. 

"I cannot influence anyone's thoughts or actions, young Alvee, but I can kill the people who are giving you work. Would you like that?"

"No, no no," Alvee replied, horrified. "Maybe just make it so that they cannot give me work."

"How?" Robin replied. 

"Erase all their sketches in their design books. They always make me make dresses based on those. And make it so that they can't draw new things."

"Your wish us my command, sweet child. I will be in your room a week from now in order to see how the wish went for you."

Alvee smiled, and continued talking to the man. It was so nice to talk to him. Nicer than it had ever been to talk to anyone. She had not known that people could talk to her with so much kindness and love. 

Afterwards, Robin asked her again if she would come with him. And again, she said no. And so Robin teleported her to the dress shop, loaded with all the fabrics that she was meant to go out and collect for the two women. 

Alvee missed Robin immediately, and a great, heavy weight of sadness settled once again into her chest as she was brought to the dress store. But all this she hid. And she hid the adventure that she had in the woods and the strange meeting she was a part of. 

The women smiled at each other and gawked at the fabric. It was all so beautiful and bright and shining. Just what they were looking for. The townspeople would love the dresses they designed. And so they went to their books immediately to draw new designs. 

But they saw that their design book was empty. And a great confusion and a great trepidation came over them. They flipped brought the whole book, and could not find a single drawing. They looked through all their other design books, the ones that were filled and the ones that were not yet filled. They combed through them. But they could not find anything. 

They were very perplexed and talked for a great long time about what happened and why it must be happening. But all that they talked, they never found the answer to this strange mystery. They had to just live with the reality that all their glorious designs were gone. 

Then they tried to make new designs, drawing in the sketchbooks. But everything that they drew disappeared immediately, leaving only blank pages in their wake. It was all very strange, and very horrifying. 

The townspeople came into the shop, and asked to look through the designs. The women had to tell them, awkwardly and with much embarrassment, that all their designs had mysteriously vanished. The townspeople remarked that this was very strange indeed, and they were sorry that they could not buy new dresses. 

The women said that they could buy dresses. They just had to describe what they wanted and the women could make their designs based off of that. And so they did describe the dresses and the women's minds were whirring with ideas. 

The women then described in very intricate detail the dresses the girl would have to make, and they told Alvee to start working right away, and to get it right. 

Young Alvee was much more stressed than before, for now she had to sew intricate dresses all from memory, she did not have even a reference to look to and base them off of. She had to remember all the designs herself and risk consequence if she got them wrong.