An ugly sound escapes me as I watch mother move out into the dance floor, her body moving in the pretty steps she had taught me, the steps we were supposed to share. For perhaps the hundredth time since my transformation into a nobody, I feel great anger towards the Time God, my young heart desirous of the games and fun that go on before me but that I cannot be a part of.

And I had trained so hard, too!

The dance mother and I learned was beautiful, and it had been something that I looked forward to immensely – but now that chance was spoiled, for who could dance with someone they couldn’t see? Who would want to watch a mare dancing seemingly on her own in an obvious duet of movement?

The anger dissipates into depression. Aithniel is somewhere near by – as she always is – but I don’t want to spoil her fun, either. Sure, it’s a festival for unicorns, but it’s also one for the Time God, and she lived in the Basin beneath his rule just as the rest of us did. And, how often would my sister get to be social with people who didn’t hate her almost as soon as they saw her?

I even see Sia, who I know will be nice to Aithniel, because Sia has always been nice to me, even when we were lying and being sneaky in her herd land. I wish she could have heard me when I quipped my hello (because I often forget they cannot hear me still) or that I could go make up more songs with her like we had at the Edge’s party a few weeks ago.

But I cannot.

A dismal sigh relinquishes itself from my lungs, the lyrics to the song I’d invented for the Time God running through my head and seemingly meaningless – unless the God can still hear me.

A look of hope crosses my face as I trot more fully into the middle of the dancing circle, weaving around the figures that have come to celebrate. There is the spy lady momma likes so much dancing with Arya, and I feel another pang of jealousy threaten to steal my thunder – but overcome it. Today is a day for celebration and happiness, even if no one on earth can see me smile.

"Time came in blowing,
Turned the leaves to gold,
He brought the clouds a snowing,
He shaped our mountain hold.

White is the light that flashes,
Myriad the bend of night glow;
From flesh to decay to ashes,
Fate the Time God knows."

My song is choked off in tears that quietly ride down my cheeks, frustration eminent at not being heard and that all my work to be impressive at the party has meant nothing. With a bitter harshness to my voice, a new stanza ebbs into my song, one that mirrors my heart.

"Little boys made nobodies,
Pretty girls, wings lit by snow,
Invisible as a sweet melody,
Or the truths we all should know."