She noticed the way Flemeth looked at her these days. Morrigan didn't remember when the change begun, but it had been recent, within the last few months at least. A crease formed between the old woman's eyebrows whenever she looked at her daughter. It was different than the judgmental look she was used to receiving; the eagle eyes searching for each and every mistake, the mouth slightly open, ready to make her disapproval known. No, now the eyes looked concerned, but unfocused. The lips were tight. It was like she was thinking, considering very hard about something, but only when her gaze fell upon the young witch.

She wondered why. Nothing drastic had changed, not that she knew of. Morrigan had done everything her mother had asked from her; had worked hard to master the spells, cooked, cleaned, she hadn't done anything that would alert the Chantry to their presence. There was no reason for her mother to look at her so oddly. And yet the look would not dissipate.

She decided to ignore it. For the moment, anyway. Just another secret for Flemeth to keep from her daughter. If it mattered, she would learn about it in due time.

"Morrigan?" She heard her mother calling from outside.

"Yes, mother?" She was likely going to be slapped for her insolent tone, however unintentional it was. Still, she didn't like be interrupted when she was studying. With a resigned sigh, she placed the scroll down and went out to greet her mother.

And apparently her mother's... friend.

"Morrigan, dear, I have some... errands for you to run. Do take your time." There was a lot that Flemeth wasn't saying, but it didn't need to be said. She had heard it all before. No, her mother's guest was far more interesting. A Chasind, of course. Young, strapping, and full of life. Not for long, of course.

"Of course, mother. I'll go right away." She didn't ask what the errands were; they didn't exist. It was just a polite excuse to get her out of the hut for a few hours. Not that she wouldn't hear about it later, but Morrigan was glad she did not actually have to witness it. She brushed past the Chasind, who stared at her in a manner most unnerving. That look she knew; it was the same way most of the enchanted Wilders looked her mother when they came to visit. It was odd to see it turned on her though. The strange, faraway look on Flemeth's face appeared again as well.

Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to get out of the Wilds altogether. Leave and never come back. Just to get away from her mother's gaze.

Who was she kidding? She'd always come back. Still, a trip away from the Wilds didn't sound like a terrible idea. Morrigan strode off towards the nearest stream. If she was going to visit civilization, she'd need to look the part. Or at least not scream 'apostate'

She paused when she saw her reflection. It had been awhile since she truly looked at herself; Flemeth didn't keep many mirrors, and those she did were mostly used for scrying. Morrigan hadn't paid much attention to her appearance and she was surprised by what she saw. She was beautiful.

For ages, Flemeth had only referred to her daughter as a scrawny stick, said that she was too pinched-looking, that her face was too harsh. And for years, it had been true. Morrigan had seen it herself. But no longer. The gangliness of adolescence had disappeared, she had filled out, and grew into her features. Somehow in the last few months she had transformed into a woman and, if the stream told the truth, a beautiful one. She almost wanted to reach out and touch her reflection, but she was afraid of marring the vision before her.

Suddenly it all made sense. The Chasind looked at her like he would a woman, not like a child, for that's what she appeared to be. She was something to be desired, and Flemeth... Flemeth was jealous.

She laughed, and the reflection showed pearly white teeth and a face that became even more stunning with happiness. It was an odd thought; her mother being jealous. The all powerful Witch of the Wilds, the immortal mage, the woman who could enchant anyone, envious of a little girl? Yet it was the only explanation that made sense. Flemeth must have noticed the change in her daughter, must have noticed how old and tired she looked in comparison, and grew jealous of the youthful, gorgeous Morrigan.

What other reason could there be?