To my readers, our heroine is an unusual child, and the book she is reading contains a somewhat gruesome description of a Viking way of execution. Skip it if you wish, lol!

When she was reborn, granted a life, it was one she could not have imagined for herself. Her parents, both professors steeped in academia, named her Aine. Her mother laughed joyfully at the tiny sprite with white-blond hair and eyes as blue as the Blue Lagoon in Southern Ireland.

"Why Anna?" He asked when she said the name.

She smiled ."No, it is spelled Aine, and pronounced A-e-nya. Like Anya with just a little touch of the e.  It means Bringer of Happiness and Brightness.

"Where did you come up with that?"

"The moment I saw her. She looks like a little fairy princess. And Aine was the Goddess of Summer and the protector of fairies. It fits, right?"

He shook his patient head in amusement. "Only a History Major could choose that."

"Don't forget the Minor in Gaelic Literature." She smiled warmly, her own blue eyes crinkling up at his. He stroked her damp blond hair and whispered, "It suits her." He watched as his tired wife settled back to rest, and he cradled the little pixie in the crook of his arm and began to sing her a lullaby.

Aine was cherished. They made sure that she had everything that was needed and many things that were not, but they gave them to her anyway. They had waited a while to have her, and she was a treasured only child. She was encouraged to explore, seek knowledge, and stretch her talents. She was brought up to accept all things with excitement, affection, and compassion. Her parents were never surprised when she was spotted coming up the walk, followed by another stray puppy or kitten, but after the second canine and third feline, they had to start saying no to another family member. She wailed in her room until they compromised.

"They can stay, but only until we find homes for them." It became her first community project,  and soon almost everyone in the neighborhood had adopted one of Aine's Animals.  Many swore they had been charmed and could not resist the magnetic blue eyes, her irrepressible nature, and those long, blond ringlets.

She could read simple books at three and by the end of kindergarten, she was adept enough try reading Gone With The Wind. She found a copy on her Auntie's bookcase.  Perplexed after five chapters, and decidedly shocked at all the S.E.X.Y. stuff, Aine re-shelved the novel. 

She thought it was going to be about tornados. 

After that, she stuck with Roald Dahl, then graduated to J.R.R. Tolkien at eleven. She found the Elves and Ents much more interesting. Those tales stimulated a passion for mythology, and after she gobbled up all she could find from the Romans and the Greeks, she was now chowing down the Norse Mythology and their Sagas. Asian mythology was next on the table. The child's appetite for reading was insatiable.

One day, her pert little nose buried in the middle of a deliciously gruesome footnote describing death by spread eagling, she nearly ran into some movers pushing two-wheelers across the sidewalk. She lowered her book and frowned at this ridiculous inconvenience. Nothing pissed her off quicker than being interrupted while reading.

"Hey kid, look where you are going! Get your face outta the goddamned book" 

Poor fool!

Aine stopped in her tracks and shot the man an icy blue glance. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Put Captain Underpants away and get outta my fucking way."

She replaced the glare with pure innocence and smiled charmingly.

"My fault entirely. I was caught up in this amazing passage." Without missing a beat, she began to read. " 'Spread eagling, or the Blood Eagle, was a death that Vikings reserved for their worst adversaries. In this method, the victim was tied with arms and legs outstretched. The executioner slit the victim down the back and separated his ribs from his spine. Skin and bones were forced outward to either side, forming gory 'Wings" Hence the term, Blood Eagle. They did not die right away, and the agony must have been unendurable.' "

She looked up and batted her eyelashes. "Wow! I am beginning to think people should be very wary about who they spew filth at. Some enemies should not be made." She slammed her book closed, the grin now contained a great deal of malice, and she took one step toward the hulking man in front of her.

He went pale and took a step back. "Jesus. Mary and Joseph. Get away from me, you little freak." He grabbed the handles of the carrier and dashed for the front door of the house.

Aine giggled to herself and began to skip away when she saw a sudden movement in the window on the third floor. A face stared down at her. A boy's face. An interesting and compelling face, his age about her own. He was pale with shaggy dark hair. It was cut like some of those Korean actors in the dramas she watched, or the guys in BTS. She called them Fringe-boys because of the style. It was a warm day, unusual in Denver, and his window was open. No doubt, he heard the entire exchange. His eyes, though, were other-worldly, as if he felt uncomfortable within his own existence, or maybe just confused about it. But he had a small, nearly-not-there smile. His voice was low and soft, yet he seemed to project it just enough for Aine's ears. And to her amazement, she found that she knew this strange boy. Knew him deeply. He, however, showed not an ounce of recognition. She swallowed a pang of disappointment and forced herself to grin cockily at him

He gathered his courage and spoke. "Excellent job. I cannot abide bullies." It was a hesitant voice with little confidence, unused to beginning a conversation.

"Me either. The trick is to seek out their weakness. In his case, it is brains. Then hit them with your intelligence. They will either beat you up or turn tail and run."

"Weren't you afraid he might hit you?"

"Nope. He'd have looked pretty stupid, beating up a little girl. It was just fun for me, watching him poop his pants."

He snorted laughter. Then his head snapped around, and she saw him tuck it down submissively. When he turned back around, Aine could barely hear him this time. "I am being called to lunch. Goodbye."

"Hey? What's your name?"

"Nick." He said shyly and disappeared.

Ning, she thought sadly. I used to call you Ning.