Prologue

The residents of Oak Street were, somehow, oblivious to the cries of a small infant wrapped in a threadbare blanket who was cast on the sidewalks. Its ear-piercing shrieks soon were reduced to silent sobs as it tired out. The cold wintry air whipped around and caused shivers to run up and down the spine of the little girl. Finally, as the deafening silence of the night set in, the baby stopped crying. It knew that it could do nothing yet it refused to succumb for it was curious. How did you walk, talk, sing? How did you run, play, learn? How did you teach, guide, work? It wanted to know, so it endured the pain and lived.

A dark silhouette neared it suddenly, wrapped in a pitch-black cloth. The light of a nearby lamppost lit her face, a quiet, somehow beautiful one. She cautiously picked up the baby, rocking it in her hands. Despite being a homeless woman, she could sense, something only mothers can sense, that that child was an extraordinary one. She looked up at the moon and as a lunar eclipse blocked out the moonlight, she whispered very softly:

“I shall name you Luna.”