Emma Needle was as thin as her name, with stringy chestnut hair, a little pug nose covered in freckles, and eyes as green as the grass she loved to run barefoot in, chasing sheep. She was a miniature edition of her mother, only Mattie had thick, curly hair and not quite as many freckles as Emma.

In the morning, Emma woke to the sound of a bird chirping right on her windowsill, which had been left open the night before because the summer night was almost stiflingly warm. Slipping out of bed in her long, pale pink nightgown, she crept towards the bird to get a closer look at it. But with an abrupt stop to his song, the bird flew away, not before giving Emma a glimpse of a bright red breast, and sparkling brown body and tail.

“Come back, little birdy!” she called softly to it. Peering at her curiously from the large oak tree not ten feet from her window where the bird landed, he shrilly started up another tune. Emma sat in her favorite spot, her window seat, and listened with interest until she heard her mother knock on her door, the signal that breakfast was in ten minutes.