"I was a child," Dulce said. "Very young. More or less, I had four years. Things of childhood pleased me. Sweets, toys, games... I lived with my family. I was happy. I did not know of the worries of the adult world. Was very simple."
Esperanza, however, was silent.
"Esperanza?" Dulce lifted her head. "Do you want to tell us?"
From around her neck, Esperanza pulled out a small white pouch. A leather strap drew it closed. It opened only just wide enough for her paws to slip in and out. She reached inside and produced a luminescent pearl. The snow, in the air and on the ground, sparkled and drifted in its milky light.
"I keep wishes," she said softly. "Wishes that cannot be granted. To know my life past... That is my wish that cannot be granted."
[16, 24]