And then, shortly after the comet disappeared, the babies arrived — one hundred and two of them in countries all around the nation. Magic babies.
They all had, to one, a curious birthmark curling out of their navels, a strange spiral that glowed in the dark. They were volatile, some of them, liable to make doors explode or syringes vanish or to catapult their mothers from one side of the room to the other. There were broken bones. Cracked teeth. Annoyed nurses. Other babies were more benign, liable to make their teddy bears sentient, so as to do the important work of infant cuddling when their busy families could not. Or they made lullabies come gurgling out of bedsheets and cradles. Some endowed their panicked fathers with new, round breasts, laden with milk. And others, remarkably, grew wings.
They all had, to one, a curious birthmark curling out of their navels, a strange spiral that glowed in the dark. They were volatile, some of them, liable to make doors explode or syringes vanish or to catapult their mothers from one side of the room to the other. There were broken bones. Cracked teeth. Annoyed nurses. Other babies were more benign, liable to make their teddy bears sentient, so as to do the important work of infant cuddling when their busy families could not. Or they made lullabies come gurgling out of bedsheets and cradles. Some endowed their panicked fathers with new, round breasts, laden with milk. And others, remarkably, grew wings.
— The Unlicensed Magician, by Kelly Barnhill
"About sixteen years ago, the first hybrid was born. What is a hybrid, you ask? Well, nobody knows why, but from that point on, one in a thousand babies would be born with animal characteristics in varying degrees. Science has no answer yet, but the existence of hybrids is a fact and accepted by most people. 'Most' is the keyword here…"
