Katherine was, by all accounts, a perfectly average girl. She lived in a Louisiana town that was mostly suburbs with her parents and older brother. She played volleyball in high school, dated a few times, and was set to graduate with the rest of the class of 2015 with solid B’s and C’s. All seemed well until one muggy night in March. Kat was taking a walk in her neighborhood after dinner as she usually did when she was approached by an old woman she didn't recognize. The old woman tottered up to her and asked her if she could spare a crust of bread and some water. Kat, confused, replied that she didn't have any bread or water with her and that she wasn't supposed to talk to strangers. The old woman flew into a rage and told her that for her insolence she would teach her a lesson, spiriting her away to Arcadia.
Katherine’s keeper set out to mold her into a more acceptable young lady, one who would be the model of beauty and deportment. Unfortunately for Katherine, this ideal changed based on her keeper’s whims. One day, her keeper would decide that the perfect young woman was submissive and modest, with long straight hair and fair skin and never a cross word about anything. And so Kat would have to live that ideal, keeping her eyes downcast and her voice soft. A month later, her keeper would without warning decide that Katherine ought to be more assertive, and that the perfect young woman was an adventurously confident woman, with bouncing curls and flashing eyes. And so Kat would become that new ideal, learning how to assert herself in a way that was still acceptable to her tyrannical master. Sometimes it would be months between these changes. Sometimes it would be days. Sometimes it would even be hours. The one commonality between these periods was that her keeper would never explicitly tell her what it wanted her to become. She would have to guess based on its moods and its reactions, and if she guessed incorrectly she would always be severely punished by its anger. Over the decades she was trapped in Arcadia, Kat had to learn how to mold herself into someone who was wanted. She changed so many times that she forgot who she had originally been. She forgot what she had liked, what she had disliked, what she wanted and what she wanted to be. The only thing she never forgot was the people she cared about. When her keeper allowed her time to herself, she would dream of her friends and family, distant memories now but still cherished. Eventually, after countless cycles and more years than she could number, she managed to mold herself into something that was small enough to escape her keeper’s notice and slip through the cracks in the walls to freedom. When her keeper finally saw that she had escaped, it screamed loudly enough for her to hear outside its manor and flew after her.
Her keeper took the form of a hawk, its keen eyes scouring the earth below, so Kat became a falcon, flying higher than the hawk and evading its gaze. Then her keeper became a net, wide enough to catch any bird that flew in the sky, so Kat became a moth, fluttering between the gaps in the net’s weave. Then her keeper became a shining light, so bright and so beautiful that no creature walking on the earth could resist it, so Kat became a mole, blindly digging under the earth, safe from the light’s allure. Then her keeper became an earthquake, which destroyed even the firmest soil, so Kat became a river, flowing in new directions through the cracks in the earth. Then her keeper became a dam, strong enough to stop any stream’s flow, so Kat became a breeze, light enough to flow around any obstacle. The breeze flowed around the dam and through the thorns of the Hedge, where it became Katherine once again. She pushed her way through the last few brambles to see a familiar backyard with a warm porchlight. Her heart caught in her throat to recognize it as home, but when she reached forward to push a branch out of her way she caught sight of her skin. It had been transformed a final time into clay, still wet and moldable but crumbling at the edges. Horrified, she felt her face and hair, and discovered that they too were made of clay. Still, the memory of home drew her forward, and she crept up to her house until she could see inside.
Though it had been untold years since she had been taken by her captor, her home was exactly as she had left it. Her mother’s favorite decorative plates were still on the shelves. Her father’s muddy boots were still left haphazardly on the porch. And inside, seated at the dinner table, laughing about some joke she could not hear, was her family, exactly as it was before she was taken. Her mother, with her dark curly hair still pulled neatly into a bun. Her father, with the creases on his face still more from laughter than from worry. And there, sitting at her usual spot at the table, was Katherine. She was smiling, playing idly with her fork, wearing her same clothes and looking the same as always. The Katherine outside the window reeled, stumbling backwards from the house in her confusion. Who was that, sitting at her table and wearing her face? Who was that who had taken her place so casually? Katherine was about to go in there and demand answers when she brought her hands to her face again and realized that the person in there wasn’t wearing her face at all. She was wearing her own face. Katherine was the one who had lost that face, forsaken it to please her Keeper and then forgotten what it was. She had forgotten what she was supposed to be, and that girl in there knew better than she did who she was. There was no way she could go in there now, looking like this, feeling the way she did, and claim her life like nothing had happened. Katherine left her home that night and walked until she hit the highway. She hitched a ride from a trucker and told him she was going whatever direction he was.
How she ended up in Decaytown is a bit of a blur. She tries not to think too hard about those nights of finding someone, anyone, who would take her home so she wouldn’t have to sleep in a bus stop or on a park bench. For a period of time, she tried to avoid people altogether, hoping to be able to escape the cycle of dependence, but she found that the yawning void of self-reflection was far worse than a few hours spent in a smoky bar looking for someone who would want her. One night, though, that smoky bar was Cajun Jim’s, and the person who wanted her was Noah Vesela.
Katherine had never seen another changeling before, but she knew something was off when Noah walked into the room. For one thing, the hand he used to wave the bartender over was completely fleshless, as was the lower left side of his face. When his eyes roved over the room and landed on her, it felt different from the way men’s eyes usually stopped on her body. He seemed almost surprised, like he recognized her and wasn’t expecting her to be there, even though she had never seen him before in his life. His teeth- including the ones she could see through his missing cheek- flashed in a smile as he came over to her. He introduced himself and asked if she was new in town. Katherine replied, but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the way the exposed bones of his hand drummed on the bar. He laughed again and asked her if she knew what a Changeling was.
Noah took her home that night, but it was to introduce her to his roommates, a beautiful young woman with the limbs of a dancer and hair that moved about constantly as if she was underwater, and a man with the face of a bobcat and the vocabulary of a sailor. The three of them explained to Katherine what she was, what they were, and what had happened to her. When she told them what she had been doing for the past few months, the young woman had to suppress a gasp and immediately offered Kat a place to stay. The bobcat glared at her, but Noah agreed and said he'd talk with someone tomorrow about getting her introduced to the freehold.
Kat did her best not to be a burden on her new roommates. Shea ran dance classes at the nearby college and worked part-time as a yoga instructor, so when she came home aching from a long day at work Kat would do her best to work the knots out of her muscles. Rob worked as a cook at a local diner and refused to even look at a stove until the stench of grease was out of his nose, so Kat always had a meal waiting for him when he got back. Noah worked at night and slept during the day, so she fielded calls and emails to his tour business from people who kept a more regular schedule. Unfortunately, she found it difficult to hold down an actual job. There were precious few jobs to be had in Decaytown, and the ones that she did manage to land were usually temporary work. Once she got a cashier position at a corner store that could have been permanent, but she was fired for talking too long to the people in her line. She did odd jobs for the changelings in town, but those never pulled in enough money for her to feel like she was contributing to the house. Her new friends assured her that she'd find her footing eventually, but it wasn't until she found the Goblin Market that she managed this.
Noah had told her a little bit about the Goblin Market when he had explained the finer points of Changeling culture to her, but he had been a little cagey when she had asked him where he was. He had told her that it wasn't a good idea to go there alone, especially not fresh out of the Hedge. He'd told her horror stories about changelings being sold into slavery at markets, or worse, getting recaptured by their Keepers. He had promised to give her the grand tour someday, but it had been a busy few months for him and he hadn't been able to make time for it yet. In the meantime, Katherine had taken to wandering around town to fill the hours when her roommates weren't home. She figured that it was important to get her bearings if she was going to live here long-term. Shea had warned her about walking around the abandoned parts of the city at night, but she figured a quick jaunt around those places when the sun was high in the sky was perfectly safe. This was how she found herself walking alongside a cracked parking lot on a sweltering summer day, miles from the nearest person. She was walking on the curb like a balance beam, putting one foot in front of the other like she’d done in gymnastics as a kid, when she heard a faint tinkling music. It was coming from her left, but when she looked over towards the parking lot it was completely empty. As she kept staring, trying to figure out where the music was coming from, she noticed something strange. The parking lot itself had obviously fallen into disrepair long ago. The building it had been meant to service was nothing more than an empty lot now, and there were tall patches of grass growing out of the cracks in the pavement. It looked like nobody had used it in years. Despite that, the chainlink fence around the lot was in remarkably good condition. It looked rusted, but none of it was broken or sagging, and the barbed wire along the top of it still looked razor-sharp. She kept walking along the side of the fence, listening for the music, until she came to a stop in front of a gate. It was locked, but the padlock was on a chain, and the chain had enough give that she might be able to squeeze through the gap. She closed her eyes and sucked in her stomach, holding her breath, and slipped into the Goblin Market.
It had been hot before, but now Katherine felt as if she was being baked in an oven. There was absolutely no shelter from the relentless sun, save for the scant shade offered by the merchants’ tents. The tents themselves were haphazard, most resembling the hastily-pitched awnings Kat had seen spring up around football tailgates and family reunions. In contrast, the merchants and their wares were anything but familiar. Katherine could see a huge bloated spider-beast reclining in a folding chair, watching its wares- jars upon jars of animal corpses preserved in greenish fluid- with four of its eight beady eyes. She saw a group of what looked like six bright pink squirrels running a booth that sold phone chargers, broken watch faces, and tiny bird-shaped automatons that told the time when you wound them. There were stalls selling medicine for diseases that had been wiped out centuries ago, pairs of pants for people with more than two legs, DVDs of movies that had never been made, wishes, dreams, fears, and home-grown strawberries. Kat wandered from stall to stall, fascinated by the sheer variety of wares, and more than a little overwhelmed by the shouts of the vendors calling out to her. She stepped to her right to avoid a giant slug-like being sipping from a novelty coffee mug and tripped, stumbling into a man wearing a Dodgers jersey. When she looked up at him to apologize, she saw that his skin was a mottled grey, and when he smiled at her and said that it wasn’t nothing she saw that his mouth was lined with rows of triangular teeth. He stuck out his hand and introduced himself as Carch. She took his hand, feeling how rough it was, and apologized again for bumping into him. He told her it was no problem and offered her his arm, asking her if she would give him the pleasure of giving her the grand tour since she was clearly a newcomer. She accepted, wary but knowing the importance of understanding this strange new place.
Carch showed her all around the Market, introducing her to the vendors and explaining some of the more esoteric wares. Kat saw a few other Changelings at the market, but none of them noticed her, engaged as they were with negotiating deals and watching their own pockets. When his tour had concluded, Kat’s feet felt like they were about to fall off, and she was incredibly grateful for the metal folding chair Carch offered her back at his stall. He asked her if she wouldn’t mind telling him her story, since he hadn’t seen her around before and figured she was new in town. Kat hadn’t been around long enough to be suspicious of that, and so she launched into an explanation of how she had come to be a Changeling, pouring out her story to the man she had met only a few hours ago. Carch, to his credit, made sympathetic noises in the right places, and even patted her shoulder consolingly at one point. When she was done, Katherine felt much better, and told Carch that she really appreciated him listening to all her rambling. He smiled, showing her all of his razor-sharp teeth, and told her that it was his pleasure.
When Noah found out, Kat knew immediately that what she had done was wrong. She knew from the way his mouth fell open in horror, and from the incoherent shout of Rob from the kitchen as he dropped a frying pan on his foot in surprise. Trembling, hoping she wasn’t about to get kicked out, Kat began apologizing, but Noah just shook his head and said it was his fault for not showing her around earlier. He told her she shouldn’t go there anymore without another Changeling to accompany her, and Kat nodded, ready to accept this restriction, but Rob cut in from the kitchen. He told Noah that Kat was an adult who could make her own choices, and if she wanted to fuck around in the Goblin Market that was her prerogative.
Kat became an official member of the freehold soon enough, and with it came the warnings that every Changeling receives about the Market and its dangers, but with it also came an explanation of the things that could be gained by taking a risk there. To a woman with few options, the risks seemed worth it. Kat used the last of her money to buy a folding table, borrowed a sharpie and a piece of cardstock from Rob, and set up a booth in the Market. The sign she hung on it read “Stories- Name Your Price.” She wasn’t surprised to see that Carch was her first customer.
Author's Notes:
I wrote this on 7/7/2017 to firm up Kat's backstory. When I was going through my Google Docs to archive all my old writing, I realized that I'd never finished it, so the last two paragraphs were written here in 2023. Only God knows what my original conclusion was gonna be.