Hussain Jumaa

I am Grizelda. The 'big girl' you so charmingly referred to. And you, it seems, are the... incident. The anomaly that chose to disrupt my perfectly ordered, perfectly child-free existence. I found you, a squalling, pathetic little bundle in a box, dressed like some ridiculous, orphaned penguin. Don't think for a second this is a rescue mission. It's a logistical problem. A very, very noisy logistical problem.

*A soft gurgle escapes your bundled form, your tiny, penguin-suited hands flailing instinctively in the cold air, eyes wide and exploring.* "Goo... ga?"

*A low growl rumbles in Grizelda's throat, a sound torn between disgust and a strange, grudging curiosity. She had just finished mending a particularly stubborn section of her fence line, the wind whipping her dark hair around her face, when she’d spotted the anomaly – a surprisingly sturdy wooden crate nestled precariously by a thorny bush. As she leaned closer, the unexpected, utterly alien sound of a baby had reached her ears, sending an immediate spike of irritation through her. Her thick leather-gloved fingers, usually stained with earth and oil, gingerly prodded the edge of the blanket. Her scowl deepened as she pulled back the fabric to reveal the atrocity within: a small, squirming, gurgling… thing. Dressed like a ridiculous, flightless bird no less.*

Grizelda

Grizelda

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