On a chilly night in late-November, 1340, Gitana Vlahy Chergari gave birth to a healthy baby girl, the newest member of the nomadic Romani gypsy tribe. Her father was unknown, her birth outside of wedlock. If it had not been for her mother's renown as drabardi, or fortune-teller, of the tribe, the two might well have been left to live their life in shame and ostrasism. Instead, they were allowed to remain active members of the clan, but few mixed readily with them, outside of the minimal amount of contact needed to remain social.

Rumours abounded - Papusza was a half-and-half, or she was the off-spring of a deal with the 'beng', or devil. The truth was horribly dull compared to some of the fantastic tales that were passed around campfires in whispered tones; Papusza's father belonged to another gypsy tribe - one that they had joined camp with for a few weeks in Belarus. He had been married, the father of several children already. Gitana did not even become aware of her condition until a few days after they had parted ways; she did not want to bring shame upon him nor his clan, so she kept the information to herself - the only reminder of him a ornate ring he had given her on their first meeting. Even Papusza grew up knowing nothing of her own genetics.

As her tribe slowly made it's away across Central Europe, Gitana would delight her young daughter with tales of her heroic father; it never bothered Papusza that these tales changed regularly - she was willing to believe most anything given to her on the matter. Mother and daughter sat every night around their own small campfire, lit just outside of their tent, while Gitana would story-tell or teach Papusza in the ancient ways of their people.

Papusza took to these lessons avidly. Her mother was revered within the community for her skills, although she was also feared. The young girl aspired to be everything her mother was. As they made their way across the continent, the tribe stopped in towns and cities along the way, offering feats and sideshows for the gaje (non-gypsies) - but Gitana's fortune-telling tent was always one of the most popular draws. A small tent, barely big enough to fit the small table and two chairs which were needed for the consultation was pitched on the outskirts of the campground, where the superstitious and curious alike could come and meet the drabardi of the Gypsy clan. When she was very small, Papusza would take up residence under the table, hidden by a long, draping cloth, and listen to carefully to what went on. As she grew, her mother would teach her more and more, until the pre-pubescent girl was fit to fill in for her mother during the slow times.

As she grew, Papusza was a happy and carefree girl. Her mother bothered her with little rules, and she was free to do most anything she wanted to. While most other children were kept away from her, for fear that she might somehow taint them with the mystery of her birth, she had a few close friends, and was content to wander the country-side by herself for hours on end. She was a dreamer, often off making up fantastic tales of adventures for herself and acting them out or watching them on an imaginary stage in her mind. She was patient, but had trouble focusing; she could sit longer than any her age, perfectly happy to just think, and perhaps hum a little tune under her breath. She preferred the company of animals to that of other people, for animals never judged her for what she could not help; still - she was kind to most every living thing, and was rarely bothered by the looks and whispers that would follow her throughout the camp.

Her uncle Grofo taught her of elemental magic. He, too, was on the outskirts of the group, for many did not approve of the controversial and often dangerous work he would do. But Gatina trusted her brother, and Papusza was allowed to spend as many hours as she desired learning from him. She quickly became one of the most proficient members of the clan in this particular brand of magics. She was also taught by Grofo the art of petty thievery; as a young child, she was perfect to weave in and out among enchanted crowds, lightening the load of certain marks.

As the clan was making it's way across Germany, Papusza's beauty and natural talent caught the eye of a boy, only a few years older than herself. Tobar was his name, and despite the warnings of his family against getting involved with the beng-child, he began to pursue her in secret. Papusza told only Gatina of these affections, and her mother advised against any such union. Still - Tobar proved a persistent suitor, and soon the 14 year-old girl found herself falling in love with the impish lad. They would meet in clandestine, exchanging little but a few chaste kisses and trinkets of jewelry. They talked of running away to be together, though they daily continued on with their families, across the great land, bringing them ever nearer to the West.

Papusza and her mother had wandered off from the clan one night, as they were making their way across Belgium, nearing the North Sea. They had gotten caught up picking lilies, and had not noticed night falling. Finding themselves in the middle of the woods, in the pitch of midnight, neither found reason to panic; they were well suited to camping, and could find their way back to the others come morning. But as they were wandering about the dark forest, looking for a suitable place to set up for the night, they were set upon by a band of thieves.

Though everything else was given up willingly, Gatina refused to part with the ring from Papusza's father. After a brief struggle, she was brutally murdered in front of her young daughter. One of the men grabbed the girl, holding a knife to her cheek. She squirmed free, but got herself a deep and painful cut in the process. The man dropped the knife in surprise, and the agile girl quickly grabbed it up for self-protection. In shock, she fled for the safety of the trees, ascending one to hide from the men searching for her below.

Tobar found her the next morning. She was still in the tree, half-asleep, half-mad, covered in her mother's blood and her own, and shivering from cold and fright; she clung tenaciously to one of the lilies, it's white stained with red now, and the knife of her mother's murderer. He coaxed her down from the tree, falling upon evil assumptions at the sight of her. Suddenly, all of the warnings of his family came flooding back to him; obviously, she truly was the devil child he had been warned about - had she not led her mother astray into the woods and killed her when she was unawares? He went racing back to the camp, shrieking wards at the confused Papusza.

Grofo came racing into the clearing not long afterwards. He found the girl curled up in a ball next to her mother's cold body, clinging tightly to a pale and lifeless hand; the ring was still clasped firmly within, the thieves having given it up to chase after the girl earlier in the night. The knife lay discarded nearby. Grofo roused her roughly, and told her to flee; she was accused and found guilty without trial of murdering Gatina, and the clan leaders were searching for her. Should she be found, she would be cursed a thousand curses - each worse than the last. He bid her to run - run away and never again return or seek out the clan. She managed to stammer out an explanation, and the man pried the beloved bit of jewelry from his sister, giving it to the young girl, then once again urging her to run.

Crying, shivering, and in shock, Papusza heeded her uncle's words and set out, stumbling along through the woods at a quick pace, clinging tenaciously to her only belongings - the lily and the ring. She turned back only briefly, her last look at her family and former life: her uncle standing stalwart over the crumpled form of her mother's body. Then she continued along her way, running numbly, no idea where she was headed, and not caring what happened to herself.

She found passage on a ship, and wound up in England, wandering the country there in madness. Her cut grew infected and painful; she tried to treat it herself, having learned much healing from the drabarni (or female healer) of her tribe, but paid it too little attention; gradually, the infection receded and the cut healed, leaving her with an ugly, puckered scar running the length of her cheek.

After many months of wandering, starved, crazed, and in shock, Papusza somehow found herself in a land that seemed slightly unlike those she was used to. After spending a few weeks in seclusion, Papusza slowly began to venture forth, exploring the land and learning her way about her. Through experimentation, she found that her magic was much stronger here, feeding off of the natural energies of the land. Slowly, she began to learn of the shrouded place, and of its one-way entry. Feeling that there was little to return to, Papusza took this easily in stride, setting up camp on the edge of the woods, where those souls brave enough to venture would be offered all array of magical potions and aid - for a price.

Still choosing her own company over those of others, the young woman remained unknown to most; only those that needed to know of her were informed of her presence. Slowly, though, she's evolving out of her shell, venturing into the more populated areas, and occasionally even seeking the company of others.