Amber fumes at his words and almost stutters as her anger erupts forth. “You have NO right to call me daughter. *You* of all people have the nerve to come here today. After what you have done to Mother you are lucky to….”

“Amber!” Her mother interjected. “Now you listen to me young woman, and you listen well.” Serenna pulled Amber about to look her straight in the eye. “What happened in *my* past is in the past. And I will be the one to say if this matter is forgiven and forgotten. It is in *no* way your place to tell these people that they are unwelcome here and I will not have it said that Serenna Wycrofft’s house is an un-homely one.”

“Amber, we are here to offer you your Birthright. It is yours; there is none other to accept this. It is yours and yours alone.” Enialis motions and the other male turns to pick up a large box that he must have been carrying earlier. The box itself is of masterful quality, all luscious darkwood, and delicate looking gold. Hanging from an ingenious holster on the front is an ancient Elven blade in its scabbard. If the intricately engraved Ivory hilt was any indication of the swords worth, the blade must have been amazing indeed. The elf places it gingerly upon a table near Amber.

Amber looks at the items, then looks deep into Enialis’ eyes, the anger turning into a smolder. “I told you. I want nothing from you. Every ‘gift’ you give brings just more pain. Everything you touch turns to Shit. What I expect from you is just more anguish, and I want none of it.”

“Amber,” Her mother starts. “listen to your father. What he has to say is important. Please, do this for me.”

Amber turns to look at her mother, a mask of shock on her face.

“My father???... You… you can’t be… Mother, how… how can you be on *his* side like this?”

“Amber, this is for *you*.” Enialis says quietly. “You can choose not to accept the fate that comes with this. But you must make the choice.”

She stares coolly at Enialis for a moment, then to her Mother, then back to Enialis.

“Fine, then here is my ‘choice’.” She walks brusquely out of the cottage and into the cold dead of the night, where she feels her mood will be more at home.

“Let her be,” Serenna spoke softly, “She’ll be back. This is home, after all….”

!!!GODS!!! What was that? Oh, hells, lightning and thunder…. Tonight is going to be a bad one. Head… swimming. My heart is racing. And I can’t see for shit. !!!! Another lightning strike! Close too…. What was that shadow? Urugk the half-ork, on patrol, I hope. He’s a good fighter. Good drinker too. His wine tastes like horse piss though. Oh fuck, it’s hard to think, head hurts and I’m so tired. Don’t want to sleep though. Don’t want to think about Mother tonight. Don’t want to…. Don’t want….

Amber raced into town. It had been snowing in Weatherdowns for three days straight, but she still rode Domino through the town like the flames of hell were at her heels. When Amber got to the door of her mothers cottage she dismounted so fast she was nearly thrown. Instead, she landed in a large drift with a most ungraceful flop. Before the older gentleman exiting Serenna’s cottage could offer assistance, Amber was up and nearly to the door. The old man stepped squarely into Amber’s path.

“Amber, I can’t allow you to go in there. Your mother needs to rest to gain some strength.” He stated in a very no-nonsense tone. “As her physician, I’m asking you to let her rest. And as a friend, I’m not going to let you in until she gets that rest.”

Amber stopped and regarded him narrowly as she dusted the snow from herself.

“Jonah Argyle,” She said dryly. “you are standing between me and my dying mother. Move out of the way before you make me do something one of us will regret later.”

The two stood there and exchanged some cool words and rather heated words as well. After a particularly heated quip from Jonah, and a ‘love-tap’ right cross, the healer found himself settled into a snow drift, and Amber marching into the home.

Amber opened the door and quickly but quietly closed it behind her. The room was dark except for a slow burning fire in the fireplace, a sole inhabitant sat in a high-backed chair facing the warmth of the fire. The woman in the chair had softly peaceful expression on her face as she slept. Age had begun to overtake the woman, as her full head of silvery hair attested. Serenna looked up and smiled, as if greeted with a great surprise.

“Amber dear!” She exclaimed softly. “I knew you would come. Come, sit down dear.” Serenna motions to a nearby chair while trying to suppress a cough.

Amber tries not to frown. The cough was deep, and sounded like a death rattle. She’d heard that kind of cough before in the colds of Weatherdowns, but never in one so young, never in her Mother.

“Come closer dear, let me take a look at you now.” Serenna continued. “My you look splendid. How has the Academy been? You must tell me everything, don’t leave out a single thing!”

Amber pulled a chair up next to her mother and began telling her mother about her training as a warrior. The two talked long through the night, chatting about anything that came to mind. Finally, Amber stops and looks to Serenna.

“Mother,” she starts quietly. “I… I wanted to apologize for how I walked out on you, last time. You were right; I… shouldn’t have acted the way I did to you. I… I didn’t want that to be the last talk we had together.”

Serenna smiles and leans over slowly to kiss Amber on the forehead. “I know dear, I love you too.” She whispers softly. “And you know I can’t stay angry at you. I can’t entirely blame you for being upset that day either. It had been so long since he had seen you, you probably didn’t even remember it. I know it must be hard to accept your connection to him, knowing what you do. All the same, that connection is there dear; you cannot deny it forever. Those gifts are part of your heritage, dearest. Accept them…for me.”

Amber sighs softly and then nods, smiling slightly to her mother. Serenna pats her daughter’s cheek tenderly, and notices a shock of stark white hair in Amber’s firey bangs for the first time.

“Amber?” She asked quizzically. “How did this happen?”

Amber blushes slightly and shrugs. “I…I’m not sure, really. I was at practice one day and a wandering adventure was there practicing as well. He told me I was too ‘dainty’ to fight a ‘real’ man, so I challenged him. He, well he was winning, easily. I fought hard momma, don’t get me wrong. But he was just too strong, too good. He started getting cocky. He taunted me, told me he was going to take me when we were done. He talked like I was a piece of meat just for the taking. I… I lost my temper, completely. He knocked me down at one point. I was furious. He made me look so incompetent. So instead of standing up, I just sat there and hated him. I swore out loud that he would die, on his own sword, against someone he thought he was better than.” Amber swallows and sighs softly. “He… laughed and started to turn away. I guess he didn’t see the hole he stepped back into. … He spun around as he fell…the blade pierced his neck and sprouted out the top of his spine. I felt relieved, and shocked, and sickened, and… exhausted, drained almost.”

Amber shudders and shakes her head, as if clearing the memory from her mind. She looks to Serenna and sees the concern in her mother’s eyes.

“So, do they know what is causing… this?” Amber asks.

Serenna sighs and purses her lips in a frown. “I… no. No they don’t. Jonah guesses that it might be some lingering effect from the Skaven, but I can hear the doubt in his voice. And that was such a long time ago.” Serenna sighs and rests her head on her daughter’s shoulder.

“You don’t have much time do you mom?” Amber asks. Her answer is a soft shake of Serena’s head.

Amber leans into her mother and promises herself that she will not cry…

##########################

Amber was crying. She had wanted to be stronger than this, for mother, but the tears rolled hotly down her cheek anyway, stinging her cheeks in the bitter midwinter morning. Her mother’s friends were congregating here and there amongst the graves old and new, but Amber stood alone under a huge cedar, watching the crew slowly replacing the dirt. Light footsteps tread through the snow toward her from behind, but Amber could not bring herself to care.

“The sword, that is, you wear it well.”