In the basket is a pale, sleeping child. She looks about three, or at least three-year-old sized, but with no baby fat to speak of and an odd maturity to her face. She is swaddled up in a blanket.

The girl naps for a good twenty minutes after being moved indoors, and then she blinks sleepily and sits up, trying to paw her way out of the blanket.

"In my house -" she rattles off an address. "Forks, Washington. Where are you from?"

"I - I don't know."

"I don't remember having those."

The child shrugs. "Not much."

"What kind of questions?"

"Like - where you come from, if you remember anything, if there's any sorts of places that you remember - that sort of thing. The people will want to get you back to your parents if a bad person stole you, or away from them if they left you on a doorstep."

"Are you sure I have those?"

"Well, everyone starts out having two parents, but sometimes things happen. So sometimes people only have one or they end up not having any. Do you remember having no parents?"

"I don't remember anything before I just woke up," says the child.

"Okay. But you remember things from after just fine?"

"Yeah. You helped me get out of the blanket and you have a name and it's Lynn." She attempts to get out of her basket. The basket tips over on top of her.

"I feel okay except not remembering before."

She nods. "Okay, that's promising. Maybe you'll start remembering after a while."

"That sounds like it would be weird, to start all of a sudden."

"It would probably be very weird, yeah. I think sometimes it comes back in bits so eventually you have most of everything back, but that would also be a bit weird."

"What if I don't do either kind of remembering?"

"Then you'd make memories from the time when you woke up, onwards."

"Here?" asks the child.

"If we can't find your parents and you want to stay here, with me - yes."

"You seem nice."

"I don't know if my parents are nice."

"If they aren't, and I knew it, I would not return you to them."

"Well, you could wait and not have a name for a while and see if the police can find it out for you, or you could pick a name. That could be confusing if they did find it, though."

"I don't remember any names that are except yours."

"I would help," says Lynn, amused. "Either by getting you a book with lots of names in it, or by naming as many names as I know, or by picking a name that I like and seeing if you like it, too."

"What ones do you like?"

"Irene, Jasmine, Astrid, Danielle, and Phoebe. Of names that I can think of at the top of my head for girls, anyway."

"I don't think I like Jasmine. The others are okay."

Lynn snorts. "Okay, then - Astrid? Would you like me to call you that until we figure out your given name?"

"Okay."

"What's police?"

"Oh, okay. Do you have things to read?"

"Can I see?"

"Thank you," says Astrid, and she starts browsing titles.

Astrid pulls the rabbit book and finds a place to sit with it and begins reading it. Bunnies!

Astrid does get the dictionary eventually to look up the occasional word - but it's pretty occasional.

"The bunnies are going to find somewhere else to live," says Astrid gravely.

"They are," she agrees. "Hopefully they'll find someplace better. Let me know if you have any questions about it, all right?"

"I've been looking up words," Astrid says.

"That's clever of you! I can explain words, too, but also concepts. It's hard to look some things up in the dictionary, they're hard to reduce down to simple words. Let me know if you find one of those."

"Why can bunnies only count to four?"

"Well, they're bunnies. Perhaps no one ever taught them how."

"Then why can they count to four?"

"They might have figured it out on their own, or someone started teaching them and was interrupted."

Lynn smiles a bit, and then - back to grading essays.

"Okay."

"What would you like, then?"

"I don't remember what foods there are. Can I see?"

"Of course," she says, and then she leads Astrid to the kitchen to pick out foody items.

Astrid turns out to consider a lot of food not food. There are currently no leftovers that meet her criteria in the fridge. She identifies raw white button mushrooms, apples, bananas, lettuce, strawberries, grapes, raw broccoli, a cucumber, sweetened coconut flakes, and carrot juice and orange juice as potential food.

Nom nom nom apple slices.

"Okay."

"Mm-hm!"

"The other things aren't food," says Astrid placidly.

"How do you know?"

"I just - can tell."

Astrid goes back to her book.

"Convenient that way," she agrees. "And you're not frustrated with reading it?"

"No?"

"Okay, good. You're a better reader than some of my students that are a decade older, then," snorts Lynn.

"They don't like bunnies?"

"They don't like reading in general."

"...Why not?"

"Because, apparently, it's boring. I don't get it, either."

"But there's books about bunnies."

Lynn giggles. "And books about a thousand other wonderful things. Corrupt nations falling, monarchs rising, humans reaching out to the furthest of the stars - if I knew why they think reading's boring, I don't think I would be an English teacher. Alas, I am, and therefore don't understand the logic. But feel free to take it up with them. Maybe you'll convince a few."

"Where do I talk to them?"

"I could bring you to my class, introduce you, if you like. Though I would have teaching to do at the same time, so it might not be very fun aside from telling my students how they could read about bunnies."

"Well, I could bring the bunnies book."

Lynn laughs. "You could, indeed. Also other things, in case you get tired of reading. Toys and games and such. As long as you played quietly while I'm teaching class."

Astrid nods.

"We can give it a try on Monday, I'll call the school and make sure it's all right."

"Okay."

And Astrid sits in the windowsill with her bunny book and sips water and reads, quite content.

"I know most of the words and I have a dictionary for the other words," Astrid says reasonably.

Astrid yawns. "Go outside and read?" she says.

"Yeah. It's wet. The book won't like it."

"It will not," she agrees. "I have an umbrella, I just never use it. Do you want me to go get it?"

"Yes please."

Umbrella is retrieved! Kid-ward, it goes. It's clear, with swirly black floral patterns. Also, the key to this entire endeavor - it's perfectly capable of protecting books and kids from the rain. If a bit big for Astrid to easily hold herself, anyway. But Lynn can do that for her, and even offers to.

Astrid wants to know why this human wants to trap these bunnies.

"Well, there are two reasons. In one place, there are too many bunnies, and they're considered pests because they eat crops and things. Then there's also how not everyone wants to just eat fruits and vegetables and things. So, they go and catch animals." Pause. "For, er - food."

"Bunnies aren't food. They're bunnies."

"Well, not everyone has the same preferences as you - some people think of bunnies as food and want to eat them, for various reasons."

Read read read.

"Yeah," says Astrid. "I don't like this color hair though."

"I don't, either. Do you - have any idea why your hair's just - this color now?"

"It looks like tofu," opines Astrid. "I don't know."

"It does look like tofu," she agrees. "I'm worried that you're not getting all of the things you need to eat, are you sure you're eating enough, sweetie?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Ooh. Maybe! Can I do orange, I want to do orange hair."

"What thing?"

"This is a stethoscope," explains Lynn, showing the item to Astrid. "It helps you hear things you can't normally hear without help - you can play with it, if you like, but I'm - going to listen to you, check for something."

"Okay."

Right, stethoscope goes over Astrid's heart, and....?

"Uh-huh?"

"What's a heartbeat?"

Astrid listens to Lynn, and to herself. "I don't thump," she confirms. "So I'm not an animal?"

"Apparently not," agrees Lynn. "I don't know what you are instead, though."

"What else looks like a human?"

"There are a few animals that walk on two legs, but none that I know of that look like they're human."

"But I'm not an animal, what's an not-an-animal that looks like a human?"

"I don't know of any. You'd be the first to know if I did."

"Am I the only me?"

"I doubt it, because there only being one of something doesn't make sense. You had to come from something, somewhere. But I don't know where the others are."

"Because of the basket."

"Because of the basket, and also because things don't - appear randomly. Especially living things, which you obviously are. Trees come from seeds, birds come from eggs, microscopic cells come from cell divisions."

"Maybe I came from an egg. Tiny tiny Astrid hatching from an egg." She makes a gesture about chicken-egg sized.

Lynn laughs. "That would be very cute. It's entirely possible, too, though if I had to guess I'd say that you'd come from an egg that's bigger than that, if you came from an egg at all."

"Medium-tiny Astrid," says Astrid, making a larger gesture. "I don't remember hatching. But I don't remember anything from before."

"Right, which makes it difficult to figure out where - others that aren't animals but look like humans are. Or what they do."

"If you found something that wasn't shaped like a human at all and it wasn't an animal how would you tell what it was instead?"

"Well, I eat plants," says Astrid. "And I drink water. And my hair does color."

Lynn nods. "Unfortunately I don't know what things eat only plants, drink water, and change hair color based on what they eat. Besides you, of course. Which kind of makes it difficult to classify you."

"Oh. Well, what do we do about me not being an animal?"

"Well, it means that I shouldn't take you to the hospital or nurse's office or anything, because I am worried that other people would want to - study you and that they would not have proper ethics while doing it. But other than that - I don't see a need to do much of anything, you seem fine."

"Study me?"

"Try to figure out what you are, which is fine in itself. But you are also a person along with being not an animal, and I'm worried they would forget that. In their excitement to figure out what you are."

"I think that would be pretty hard to forget. I talk."

Astrid looks blank.

"They might - do bad things to study you because they are curious and they are thinking about what they want to know instead of how you want to be treated."

"Oh."

"Yes. And I want to prevent that, more than anything else in the world."

"Anything?"

"Just about, yes. It's just barely, barely below keeping you alive."

"What about all the other things in the world?"

"You are my priority," informs Lynn. "Because I consider you to be my daughter, and I love you. So you come before all of the other things in the world. Including myself."

"I don't know. Obviously I also would like to keep living, and would try very hard to not die. But if it seemed like it was absolutely unavoidable, like I had a timer that would kill me no matter what I do, I would make sure you go somewhere that you are safe and happy."

Astrid nods gravely.

Lynn decides that her daughter needs a hug. She is going to offer one.

Hug.

"Is there anybody else who might know what I am?"

"I think some of the students have noticed the hair color changes, but - I'll explain that one away as you wanting to dye it. Other than that - if anyone knows, it's probably whoever was responsible for the basket."

"We could ask people, though. Not nurses I guess."

Lynn nods. "Yeah. I'd stick with people we trust, though. They might think it's a silly question, though - before I met you, I thought humans were the only things to look like humans."

"Okay. Who would be good to ask, then?"

"I don't know, I'm afraid. If I had an inkling, I would have already asked them."

"Okay. How do I tell if somebody is a nurse so I know not to ask them?"

"I think some nurses would be okay, depending on the person - it's not the station as a nurse that worries me, it's the ability to notice strange not-an-animal but looking-human things. They are more likely to notice, and so could react badly upon noticing. So - pay attention to how people act and if they're the type of people to not care about what other people want."

"How do you tell that?"

"Usually it takes time - I notice that how they treat people that are below them matters quite a lot. How they treat children, or waiters, or the hired help. There are other factors, but that's a bit harder to easily summarize."

"Are children and waiters below other people?"

"No," snorts Lynn. "Not in any way that matters. But sometimes people forget, because it's easier to do whatever you like with a waiter or a child. So you get a better idea of how a person really is, when they have the chance to be mean to someone with nothing stopping them, and they don't take it."

"Oh."

"I will do my best to make sure no one is mean to you."

"You're nice."

Lynn laughs. "Thank you, you're nice, too."

"Yay!"

"I will get you something nice for your birthday. To match." Pause. "... Which reminds me. You need one of those."

"A birthday?"

"A birthday is the day when you were born, and it's common to celebrate it and bestow presents as a way of saying 'I am happy you were born.' Christmas is similar, but it's for everyone rather than one specific person."

"But we don't even know if I was born."

"Yes. But I don't want you to miss out on presents, I'm still happy you exist. I just don't know what day that happened to start or the method that it started."

"It could be the day I basketed."

"It could!" agrees Lynn. "Or it could be whatever day you want it to be, if there is a time of year that you particularly like."

"I don't know," says Astrid. "If we wait for me to see all the parts of the year it will just be the day I basketed again."

"Hmmm. Then, do you want me to explain all of the seasons to you and see if there is one you like, or just go with the day you basketed?"

"Is the day I basketed a nice day?"

"I thought it was, but I think I'm biased because that was the day I first met you."

Astrid giggles.

"I think basketing day makes sense. It is when I started being Astrid anyway even if I was somebody else before that."

"Basketing day it is, then. I don't think I can manage to make you cake, but I will try to find a vegan equivalent."

"Okay."

"And if I don't manage it, I can always bury you under presents."

"But then I would be buried!"

"Yes, but they'd be presents!"

"How will I open them if I am buried?"

"You're a smart kid, I have no doubt that you'll find a way."

Hee hee hee hee.

"Oh no!" laughs Astrid. "So many presents!"

"You'll be known as the present girl. Because you'll be perpetually buried under them. Don't worry, I'll give you the bunny book right before your birthday so you won't be bored under there."

"But it would be dark under all the presents."

"Hmmm, you're right. I'll have to get you a lamp, too. It'll need an extension cord, instead of batteries, otherwise you'd lose your light after a while."

"And I would get hungry in there."

"Maybe I'd have to let you out for food and bathroom breaks. You'd get to stretch, eat, and use the bathroom, and then right back under the pile of presents."

"But then I could not go with you to school."

"True. Hmm. Okay, burying you under presents is no longer viable."

"If they are soft presents you could pile them on my bed and I could sleep on them like a dragon. Could I be a dragon?"

"You may be a dragon."

"Raaaar."

"Adorable little dragonet," giggle Lynn.

"Maybe when I'm big I'll grow scales and wings and breathe fire!"

"That'll be fun, certainly. Fire outside only, please."

"But I could roast my own tomatoes and stuff."

"Okay, only little amounts of fire inside the house, and only when supervised."

"But this is when I'm big and grown up that I will breathe fire."

"If you have your own house by that point you may breathe fire in it all you want."

Astrid giggles and hugs her.

Lynn hugs her back, snickering.