The Fox in Gold

Every generation, my people would send a number of individuals to live in human societies, in human form. We are here to observe, and to learn and love in the tumultuous labyrinth of what it takes and what it means to be human: employment and money, dreams and destiny. I feel lost within this situation, and I have not yet met another of my kind. I wear a certain pin that represents my heritage: a sitting fox in gold. Every generation, there are those who are not what they seem, without distinct memory of being what they are. Homeless, rootless, searching. The plant's seed intended to land miles away to figure life out for itself.