The old elven woman lies in the bed, reaching her hand out. Damia takes her hand, frowning. Her mother was sick, that much was obvious. Damia's mother closes her eyes for a moment, and it almost appears that she is going to sleep, but then she speaks, "Damia, there is something I should have told you long ago. But I couldn't bring myself to do it." She takes a breath, and Damia waits patiently.
"When you were just a wee babe I found you. You were clutched in the arms of a woman, and she was on the verge of death. She told me she had taken you, and that your mother was dead. What she knew of your father was only his name, and that he was human." She pauses once more, opening her eyes to look up at Damia. Damia sits there silently still, now a look of shock on her face. Her mother continues, "I raised you from then on, like my own child. I knew you would be different, knowing that your mother was like us and your father was human. I apologize for not telling you sooner, but you have always been my daughter."
The grip on Damia's hand weakens, and her mother starts to wheeze, "Your father's name was Winterhaven."
"When you were just a wee babe I found you. You were clutched in the arms of a woman, and she was on the verge of death. She told me she had taken you, and that your mother was dead. What she knew of your father was only his name, and that he was human." She pauses once more, opening her eyes to look up at Damia. Damia sits there silently still, now a look of shock on her face. Her mother continues, "I raised you from then on, like my own child. I knew you would be different, knowing that your mother was like us and your father was human. I apologize for not telling you sooner, but you have always been my daughter."
The grip on Damia's hand weakens, and her mother starts to wheeze, "Your father's name was Winterhaven."
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