Disclaimer: I don't own Wicked.

Glinda slowly got out of her carriage and shivered for it was cold out and snow was falling gently to the ground. The snow, she realized, was soft and it wasn't the kind where the boys would dare to make snowballs out of, either. It was light and powdery, delicate even, just like she felt she was.

She entered the Cloister of Saint Glinda, but as quietly as she could, in fear that she'd cause a disturbance in the quiet building. "You have come," an old woman said. She didn't get up from her chair to greet Lady Glinda Chuffrey, but the blonde doubted she could even get up. "Take a seat, dearie." She listened and sat down in a chair near the old woman who held her hands out to take hers. The old woman's skin was soft and paper thin. Glinda thought if she tried hard enough, she could feel her arteries pumping blood through her old body. "I am old Mother Yackle. I assume the letter you received was delivered, was it not?"

"I received your letter promptly," Glinda replied. "Although, I still do not know why I came here without you giving me a reason. I am a rather busy woman, after all."

"Oh, of course, with your husband's declining health and all, I can imagine."

"Why am I here?" Glinda questioned her, wanting to ignore the fact her husband was on his death bed. He was a nice man overall; he took care of her as well as provided for her. He knew she was different, and he was different as well. They married each other for show, not for love. But it was better to marry a friend than a stranger who would demand things Glinda wasn't willing to do.

"I see you are curious. Well, I knew a woman who stayed here at the cloister for quite some time," Yackle said. "She had given birth to twins- a boy and a girl. She had taken the boy with her, only by force, mind you, not choice, but left the girl. She doesn't even remember having the twins actually. She just thinks the boy is a nuisance."

"You mean she does not recall giving birth to not one, but two? That is ridiculous!" Glinda exclaimed. She tried to pull her hands back, but the older woman was stronger than she looked.

"How would you know, my dear? You've never had children of your own. Don't speak of something you have no experience of."

"That was cruel," Glinda said. "Lord Chuffrey and I had been trying desperately before he got sick," the blonde stated, although it wasn't true. And Yackle laughed at her, seeing through her lie.

"I apologize," she said anyway. "But this woman left a little girl behind. She's a shy one and doesn't speak. Her mother took a vow of silence here, so I think she might be imitating her. But the boy spoke. He spoke for her. She could be dumb, I don't know. She'd too young to tell. She can't walk on her own, but she's adapted to using forearm crutches and she has a wheelchair. She's probably dumb, I warn you. She doesn't read, write, or do much of anything, really."

"Why are you telling me about this tragic girl?" Glinda questioned.

"Because you know her mother very well."

"Who is her mother?"

"You will know when you see her." Glinda was led into a small room. There was a little girl, probably around the age of eight, sitting on her bed and blankly staring out the window. She saw the girl's tangled dark brown hair and her chin that was sharper than most.

"Elphie," Glinda gasped. "Her mother is Elphaba?" she said for the older woman to here.

"The very one."

"And she abandoned her daughter?"

"She wanted to abandon the boy, too. She never let the girl follow her, though. She didn't seem to care for her much. She didn't care for him, either, but she tolerated him. This one was always neglected since birth. She never drank her mother's milk. We had to get milk and dip a cloth in it for her to suck on," Yackle explained. "Sad life."

"But Elphaba wouldn't be this cruel. I mean, she wasn't particularly favored as a child, so I don't understand why she neglects her," Glinda said, her eyes fixated on the girl.

"I want you to take this girl and raise her as if she's your own." The blonde looked at her with shock written all over her features. "She deserves better than what I can give her here."

"I can take her to Elphaba's sister, Nessarose," Glinda said quickly. She couldn't be responsible for this girl. She was probably dumb, mute, and couldn't walk right. Since Nessa was her biological aunt, she could probably love the girl more than Glinda ever could. And Glinda really didn't think she could.

"If you must," Yackle replied. "You should know her name is Analena. Elphaba did care enough to name her before she forgot."

I'm not sure if I should continue this or delete it. Feedback would be great, and I'd love to know whether or not you would honestly read this story. Thank you!