When she was a very small girl, Daine loved her mother. She loved to follow her around, gathering herbs and making visits to those in Snowsdale who were in need of healing. She was filled with excitement whenever she got to help bind a wound, or deliver a baby. Daine wished desperately that she had the Gift, so that the mother she loved so dearly would be happy.
When she was just a little older, Daine pitied her mother. She pitied her for the looks the villagers threw at her, for the whispers that sprung up as soon as her back was turned. Daine pitied her mother for being an outcast from the villagers. She never thought that the dislike for her mother would also apply to herself.
When she was a little older than that, Daine hated her mother. She hated her for being so foolish as to have a baby when she wasn't married. She hated her mother for bringing her into this world, for making her a bastard that, as the villagers said, no respectable man would marry. Daine hated her mother, and always would.
After the bandits came, Daine missed her mother. She missed the warm smile and the kind words that she had come to take for granted. She missed walking by her, with a basket in one hand, excitedly pointing out the plants she recognized. She missed the way her mother had never used harsh words or blows, even when she was being difficult. Daine missed her mother with all her heart, and she knew nothing would bring her back.
When she was much, much older, Daine looked back on her life. She thought of her childhood in Snowsdale, of innocence turning to suspicion turning to hurt when she realized she would never be accepted because she hadn't known who her father was. She thought of being forced to grow up far too fast, losing all her family and succumbing to madness. She thought of everything that had brought her to where she was now. She thought of her husband, the man of her dreams, and of her bouncing little girl and her adorable baby boy. And Daine found something that she had known all along.
Veralidaine Salmalin, formerly Veralidaine Sarrasra, loved her mother, and always would.