She didn’t understand fear of the dark. Darkness was a friend, and she walked unafraid through the night. The sound of night animals and the susurration of wind in the trees were as familiar as her own heartbeat.
It was in daylight they called her scarface and the children threw stones.
She met the devil at sunset, and tried to hide her cicatrised visage. He laughed, but his laughter was different. It was kindly and he lifted her face in one clawed hand. She walked the dark pathways at his side, and he understood her stumbling speech.
Scarface never returned.