Sometimes I wake and think who am I? I know I'm in this body, the container I've had all my life, but it doesn't feel right. I realise it's getting older year-on-year, the tell-tale signs of aging and growth, you can't fail but notice them. But me, the inner me, who is that really? How did it come into being? Yes, I know about the birds and the bees and the moment of conception, brains and the minds and human development.... but what if there was another way, another entry into this world of ours?

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"Margarite, please don't ignore me. Eat your meal and stop playing with your brother."
Momma was tetchy today. She'd been hunting in the Great Yonder beyond the Forbidden Cliffs and had only caught three Pancor Buzzbees. We each got one and she was saving the last for Poppa, but he wouldn't emerge for another two cycles yet. I guess she would be hungry today, a mother's sacrifice. Her fur naturally changed colour to her mood and I saw it ripple from pink to red as she got agitated at our play. I gulped down my food and her shade shifted back to opalescent pearl, our natural state.

My young brother never seems to behave as he should, and I like that about him. He's often the distraction I need to keep my mind off my worries, of which I have plenty. School and homework, am I good enough, and will I pass? Do I have time for...