Born in the icy heart of January, the baby was anything but ordinary.
Her exhausted mother took one look at that auburn mop of hair, those flashing amber eyes and insisted, “She’s not one of us, not a bit. Can’t call her Mary or Sara, and would never do to make her a Tucker.”
No one could change her mind, not even the midwife, who insisted that babies must share their family’s names. It was only proper, after all.
“This child dropped in from...” her mother reached out for her and drew her close.
The baby wrapped her mother’s finger in her tiny fist.
“...From the October Sky.”
The others stared at the child, who had yet to make one sound.
“Write it down,” her mother said to the midwife. “This baby girl’s name is October Sky, and she’s destined for something bigger than this cabin, bigger than these snow-covered fields. Just you wait and see.”