Golden Girl

K I E R R A

I feel like a train has hit me.

That moment in which you realize that you're a teenage girl without parents, or any family for that matter, hits you hard. It's not like in stories where the main character somehow manages to carry on with their lives. It's not like in stories where the main character somehow adapts to an extraterrestrial environment.

That's how earth is to me right now- extraterrestrial. And it's going to take eons to adapt to this hellhole.

The small villages have grown into cities, the farmer's markets are mostly shut down, and there's no room for the geese, or the deer here. There's hardly any room for people to walk. Endless streams of bright, yellow taxis, and mottled colour cars, and pedestrians who couldn't care less about a girl with dirty hair, no shoes, and raggedy clothes, wandering the streets.

According to the phone book I stole from a nearby shop, I may have three possible living relatives. Who they are in relation to me, I don't know. I giggle, almost hysterically, when I look at the names. These people could be my baby brother's great-great-great grandchildren for all I know.

I began to laugh harder as I realize my baby brother is dead. And so is my mom. And my dad.

"Miss, are you okay?" someone asks from afar.

It's the boy from the woods, but I'm so distraught I don't recognize him. Or maybe I do, but I don't care.

"Everyone is dead," I manage, wiping the tears from my eyes, and clutching my stomach. Everything hurts. "Everyone is dead. And I don't know what year it is."

"It is the year twenty seventeen," the boy tells me helpfully. He looks shaken up, and he's panting, as if he has run quite a distance. He looks strange, I realize with a start, with his unruly brown hair, and bright green eyes...something about his sharp features looks out of this word.

Literally.

I burst into laughter again. I really am going insane.

The brown-haired boy shifts uncomfortably on his feet, and hugs his wooden violin case to his chest. "Miss-"

"Read those names out loud to me," I say, handing him the phone book with unsteady hands. "First column, five down."

It takes him a while to search for the names, but he eventually finds it and begins reading them off methodically. "Ava Winters. Amabelle Winters. Amy Winters."

He goes on for a bit, until ending the list with "Qiana Winters."

"Emily Winters," I decide after a moment. "My grandmother was named Emily. Perhaps Emily Winters is a descendant of mine."

"You look too young to have offspring."

"You're strange, aren't you?" I counter.

"Says the girl who couldn't stop laughing because her family is dead."

Very true.

"You're the girl from the woods," the boy says at last. "I'm sorry I scared you. I was merrily passing by when I decided to stop for a short break. I come from a faraway land, you see."

"Do you?" I ask, only half-interested. My feet are numb, and a single glance down lets me know that they are bleeding.

"Aisa, land of the fey. I'm the crown prince, and my father wants me to get married. I long to be free of the burden of becoming leader. I yearn to live a life of music."

For some odd reason, I believe him. 

"First world problems," I mutter to myself. I stick out a hand. "I'm Kierra Winters. Nice to me you, crown prince."

The fey prince looks confused, and doesn't take my hand, but he does say, "My name is Lynx, named after the solitary cats of the frigid winters."