Hushed Willows Every day I've got a smile where my frown goes

Mae was hardly conscious of all that transpired after she'd slumped to the ground before the golden girl. She remembered fear. She remembered a vaguely familiar face, and her name spoken aloud by someone she'd never met. When she awoke somewhere else entirely she knew that someone must have carried her here — but who?

What stranger would care so much when even her own father had not?

The wild-furred youth groaned softly as she stirred, blinking rapidly but not daring to lift her head. Nonetheless her eyes found another pale blonde figure, larger this time, and for several long moments Mae stared. Who was this woman? Why did her presence feel so much like safety to Mae?

For a wild foolish hopeful heartbeat her throat tightened and she wondered: is this her? Is this my mother? But no — she looked nothing like Mae, and the scent was wrong, and just then she turned and Mae saw now that her eyes were like the sun. Not silver. Her heart fell, but she finally lifted her head in silent greeting.