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Science Fiction & Fantasy   by K.W. Colyard We were seventy-seven when the Pleiades burned out. As the seventh daughters of a seventh daughter, it seemed almost poetic that this was what Fate had in store for us. Yes, I said daughter s. Plural. Casto came first, but she wasn’t breathing. I came second, and I was shrieking gulping air like a parched man fresh from the desert. My tiny fist clutched her left leg, as if to insist: where she goes, I go. But she, the devilish little thing, she waited until all eyes were on her, until I was cold and alone in my cradle on the far side of the room, before she took her first breath.

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