text: (WP) A Shroud of Protection I can barely remember my life before her: I was tucked into a wooden chest in the attic, being saved for a special occasion. Being a treasured family heirloom was an honor, but it was a lonely calling. Then she was born, and again, as before, I had purpose in life. I was taken out of the chest, able to feel sunshine again, and Grandmama Ruby spread me out, swaddling me around her fifth grandchild, and the warmth would have been enough to make me weep, if I’d had eyes. It had been so long since I’d felt the touch of a soft infant’s skin on my body. No matter how many years I had in the dark, these moments in the sun were always enough. Ruby cradled the sleeping child, staring down at her in silent wonder. I knew how she felt; with every life added to our extensive family tree, it never got old. A tiny life calling us home, giving me purpose again. Years had passed since Ruby’s mother had sewn me with her own hands, and after all these years, I would be tucked away, lying in wait for the next child born. And here she was, a baby to hold me close and snuggle me and take me everywhere. “Look at you, beautiful,” Ruby murmured, rocking her back and forth. “You have no idea how happy we are, that you’re finally here!” She was smiling, her dimpled cheeks flushed with joy. As happy as I was, I was also bristling with impatience. The bond would not form until Ruby told me her name, and as much as I wished I had a voice, my sentience did not extend that far. I had to wait until the time was right. “Oh, Frida. I cannot wait to show you everything,” Ruby whispered, and a subtle glow began to form around my edges, creating a protective barrier around the child. “I can’t wait to see what kind of person you become. But in the meantime, you’ll have this blanket. As long as you take it with you, you will be safe.” I was one of the family’s most closely guarded secrets, one of their sources of magic. Most people thought it was genetics, or good luck, but that wasn’t the case at all. Ruby and her family had been entrusted with secretive magical objects, and they only shared them with those who were trustworthy. I was one of the oldest in the entire collection, and Ruby always gave it to the youngest grandchild, as a way to safeguard against delicate mishaps. I was a shroud of protection, sewn into life and given a soul born from a family’s fierce love for one another. But, of course, this did not mean that other people, humans full of avarice and hatred and greed, did not covet or try to steal myself, and my brothers and sisters. Power is a truly dangerous, fluid thing, and there are some who would do anything to attain it. But I knew my purpose: to watch over the children of this line, until I turned to dust.