They had left her there. She couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t her fault she had been born with the black markings that covered her half of face, across her shoulder and wrapped around her back. Her mother had called her unique. Pafrey, her grandfather, simply pretended the marking wasn’t there. That Latiil was perfectly bright and vivid like the rest of the colony. By the time Latiil had reached adulthood, her mother, Mafrey and Pafrey had been taken by the deep dark. Latiil had been betrothed to Nark and Nark would inherit the role of protector and leader of their colony. But before they could complete the ceremony, no further back, the day before the ceremony was to be held, Nark had called Latiil “Ink blot” and gave her over to the portion of the colony that had always hated her. They did more than just leave her. One of them had a knife made of sea urchin spines and had cut up her tail and fins, so she couldn’t swim. They took her to the shallows while the tide was on its way out. There was a particular rock pool that dried when the tide was out. For the tiny fae it was as big as a house. A large chunk of drift wood had been lodged there into it. That’s where they left her. Rado had a collection of iron hooks the giants of the land had used and lost during fishing. Some were much too big to swim with. But some he could wrap up in seaweed and sling over his shoulder. He carried that to the rock pool in the shallows. The other carried Latiil there. Dragging her over rocks that were quickly losing water, tail fins brushing the surface as they went. Latiil’s body and tail were scraped, torn and bleeding. But the worst was to come. They pinned her to the drift woo  and Rado unwrapped the iron hook, careful not to touch it to his bare skin. They held Latiil in place and skewered the hook into her shoulder. She screamed  as a red cloud of blood spilled into the water. They took an abandoned fishing line and tied her to the driftwood. Rado made sure that the line cut deep into her tail, letting more of her blood. They all lingered there, taunting her, touching her, plucking out vibrant scales she didn’t deserve, because she was ugly. When they left her they had to crawl over the tops of rocks, for the tide was almost gone. As they swam home, they all knew that the pool would dry out. And if the sun didn’t kill her some other beast would. Latiil was no longer a stain on their colony.