Dawnlark Plains all that summer was fire and rain

The closer she came to the stranger, the faster her heart beat; when they stood just feet apart, it was flying against the walls of her chest, light and free and sweet. Because she knew this woman, warm and maternal from her earliest days, but now small and airy and comparable in age with Easy herself. How young she must have been, the woman thought in quiet wonder, how young she must have been when we were born.

"Thank you -- it was a gift," Easy replied, wanting to laugh aloud but limiting herself to a soft huff of amusement. The words might not have fit the dam's question, but to Easy, it was an answer to all the things she had often thought in regards to this woman, her mother. It was incredible to think that this was the body that'd borne her into the world; this was the woman (the girl, she thought, she must have been a girl, back then) that'd stood alongside her father when Morningside was founded. The strong figure that'd stood as a strong tower over her and two other tumbling bodies, now dwarfed by all that she had become.

"I am," the woman replied, heart still skipping. The moment felt unbearable sweet, even though there was a sad little girl still buried in Easy's chest that begged, Mama, don't you know me? I would know you anywhere. Most of her was Easy; was a woman looking back at her equal with I want to know you  and I want you to know me writ across her heart. "I was born not far from here -- in the plains a few days to the south." But she let those words speak for themselves; she would not force this on the woman. "Are you?" She was not. "And what should I call you? My name is Blackbear."