Cinderella, Dmitri, and Chance scrabbled in the dirt as their father looked on. Cinderella was such a beautiful little girl; she seemed to radiate innocent beauty and youthfulness. Dmitri was already looking as if he were going to grow up to be a born athlete. The way he played with the ball his father had bought him, the strength in such a small body - there was little doubt about his destiny. Chance, however, wasn't quite as happy as the other two. Some sort of disease he was born with caused his flesh to rot and fall off - somehow, it always replenished. It never killed him, and it wasn't contagious. But it was painful at times, and he could tell that other people looked at him funny. It made him a bit sad, even as a kit.