Adventures of a Lost Tiefling

1. A Chance Meeting

I look at my reflection in the looking glass in front of me. You can do this, I think to myself. You're two towns over. You left in the middle of the night and made it here before two sun ups. The pep talk doesn't do much to quell my nerves and I look down as I fight to make sure I don't allow my tail to twitch nervously. I look back in the mirror at my icy blue, feline-esque eyes that look much too frightened for me to not draw even more attention to myself than would normally be thrown my way already. I smooth down my midnight blue hair, wild from a day and a half of running, hiding, and sneaking on and off of travelling merchant carts, and quickly give up. I tie it to the side, hoping that will help calm the naturally loose curls some and maybe stop me from looking like the runaway that I am. I should probably tie it up in a bun to help hide the length in case my family's men are already almost upon me so that I might be slightly less identifiable. I glance at my eyes, noticing the slight darkness underneath them that gives away how rough the last two days have been for me. My gaze sweeps across the rest of my face, the skin that's just a touch too red to really be human, the elongated canine teeth that lightly push into my bottom lip when I smile, over to my somewhat long, pointed ears, now up to the four inch horns atop my head that stick nearly straight up with a slight backward curve, my thoughts go to the tail under my skirt that extends to the middle of my calves and often has a mind of its own. Oh what's the point? My hair being nearly to my waist is far from the first thing anyone is bound to notice about me. Why couldn't I have been born a few more generations down, so I wasn't so obviously Tiefling?

My family has a long tradition of breeding children specifically for the purpose of looking more human so that they might trust us. This objective sounds fine until the means and reason are taken into account. I am one of the 20% of my family to live past the age of five and one of the only 10% eventually allowed to breed. Any infant or child deemed too devilish of appearance for human trust is very likely to be killed early on. On rare occasions, they are kept alive to serve the family at home. They perform the menial tasks, such as laundry, cooking, cleaning, etcetera. They are often treated as slaves, sent to work early instead of school like the rest of the kids. They don't know who their parents are, as they are given to the group home quite young. Frequently, their parents do not know the child is theirs since contact is cut off once they are given to the home. If the mother and father are aware of the identity of their offspring, the child is treated with more contempt than anything else because the child's appearance is seen as a weakness in the parents' genes and is a dishonor to the family. My mind drifts to what is possibly the worst part of the fate to befall these children. While most of the children in my clan are sent to their final stages of training for human infiltration, preparing them for their first assignments once they reach adulthood, when these poor youths enter puberty, they are given a choice: sterilization or death. These are the reasons the dishonorable born are often known simply as the Unfortunates.

My tail thrashes about in disgust before I manage to calm down, drawing me out of my head and back to my reflection. That's why you left I tell myself. Their ways are not right, I will not be part of it. I'm not sure why I know this. I have always thought differently from the rest of my clan. Early on, I was reprimanded for treating the more unfortunate children as my equals and trying to befriend them. My favorite stories were the ones where the heroes are defending helpless citizens rather than setting out on quests for glory. As the literature allowed in my family is rather limited by the Counsel, I'm sure I was intended to associate the citizens with the family and the story with my duty to protect and honor them no matter the consequences or danger, but to my mind, the family is capable of defending itself. I've always known those kids are really the defenseless citizens of my childhood stories, and that if I were ever afforded the opportunity to help them, even if it were just a smile in passing, it was my duty to do so. That's why as soon as I found out what the secret "final exam" for my training was, I made a plan to escape and ran away. I will not hurt the downtrodden I think to myself, refusing to even let my mind fully wander over to what the traditional final task was to be.