A Mother's Courage

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  No Houses
Part of a series called "Writing Wretrospective", in which I go back and rewrite snippets of old stories I wrote way back when.

I think this one originates from my Eragon obsession days.

Submitted: November 17, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 17, 2013



The great old oak blanketed a woman upon the fallen log. The tree had wizened over the years, but still spoke the same soundless words. In its shady glade, she truly felt at home.

That great tree was her only companion. It was a teacher and listener both. It was from that very tree that she learned how to harness the magic of life, and in turn open her eyes to the warm sunlight above. The great oak taught her that even if one’s roots may be firmly bonded with the earth, there still existed the freedom to choose where in the sky to reach. It was her teacher’s lessons that enabled her to discover that very freewill in a life where the roots reached leagues underground.

It was as a little girl when she was handed over to him. Her people told her that she was destined to carry his child. She was told that it was an honor and that she should be proud to bring about the glory of her order. For a long time, she believed them. That was when she met the great oak tree.

The father of her children was ancient. He survived by possessing the bodies of his offspring, devouring their souls until it was as if they never existed. That was to be the fate of one of her twin children. Like a little girl given as a valuable object to a terrifying old man, they would have no freedom to choose. They would be told glorified lies about honor and fate.

But their mother was not going to let that happen.

The great oak protected her in her final hours of long life. The woman found it difficult to count her heart as the one beating rapidly within her chest. It would always remain with her children, who then slept peacefully in places where their father could not touch them. She sat then before the great oak, pleading for a pact of magic that would solidify that bond. The wind rustled its leafy branches in acceptance.

As long as that great oak stood within that forest, her children would be safe. That was all she could ask for. The rest was up to fate.

To either side of her, the brush crackled and snapped. Inky smoke curled through the grass toward her. Faint hissing drowned out the oak’s words. It was time.

The last gift she would give to her children would be her life.




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