Anon, nourished by the warm sun of Noamora's smile, and the pure waters of her wisdom, grew as a blade of grass grows when fed by water and sunlight.
He was a very contemplative youth, constantly pondering the mysteries of the world, and doubting the things he knew were most likely true.. And he was forever asking questions. Whatever she told him to do, he would do without a word; but, as she had come to expect, afterwards, the questions would invariably come.
But, she did not mind. Not one bit.
Life was good.
Until the dreams began.
When Anon was four summers, he began having dreams about a woman. His vocabulary wasn't enough to adequately describe his dreams thoroughly. But from what little Noamora could understand, the woman claimed to be his real mother.
When Noamora heard those words, she froze, her blood turned cold.
No...It can't be...
It hadn't scared Anon, but it had confused the young child greatly.
And of course, he had many questions.
She shushed him and put him in her bed, where he promptly fell asleep. She, however, tossed and turned the whole night to Anons major dislike. "Mama. Stop."
That cheered her up a bit. Putting in the incident aside, she too fell asleep.
But, the dreams did not stop. It went from once a week, to three times, to every night.
And every night, the routine was repeated.
Anon, in his innocence, did not think anything of it. It was a game to him. A game that let him sleep in his mama's bed every night. He had thought once or twice of pretending the dream had came to him when it hadn't, but he had seen how much it distressed his mother. So, he just settled for whenever it came.
Noamora, on the other hand, was in a complete disarray. She had raised Anon as her own son(no... He is my son), and she could not bear the thought of someone, anyone, taking Anon away from her.
Even a mother who could abandon her child in the middle of a village, she thought bitterly.
And, how could the mother make herself appear in her son's dreams unless she was a magician, or...
Noamora gasped, her hand quickly coming up to cover her mouth. Or, unless Anon is dreaming of her because he doesn't see me as his real mother?
Noamora harshly blinked back stinging tears that threatened to cascade down her cheeks. She had planned to tell Anon that she wasn't his real mother. But not now...not now. When he was older, much older.
Anon slept peacefully beside her.
The dreams had stopped not too long after that, and life gradually returned to normal.
Anon, caught up in the happy net of his youth, was having too much fun to remember such horrible moments. And Noamora, letting herself get trapped up in his enthusiasm, succeeded in pushing the incident to the back of her mind.
But she never truly forgot...