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Description
Here is a short (as in one page) story that I wrote to go with this drawing.
Please note that this is a fan work and not official.
The Green Ember belongs to S.D.Smith and the Story Warren.

Heather woke with start.
She’d been having dream. A bad one.
She shook uncontrollably as lingering visions of terrible birds and foul-smelling dragons flickered across her mind.
What were they? Why was she dreaming about them?
Fear choked her, tears welling up in her eyes as she lifted her small hands and groped blindly in the darkness, reaching out. Needful. Wanting.
She could form only one thought. Mama!
“Mama! Mama!” She cried between the heaving sobs that racked her tiny frame.

A golden rectangle of light stretched itself across the floor as Mother appeared in the doorway, bearing a lamp. She placed the lamp down on a nearby table and was by Heather’s side in an instant.
“Heather dear, what’s wrong? Do you have a pain?” She asked anxiously as she checked her daughter over for any injury.
Heather shook her head, “Scary, birds a-and d-d-dragons!” She managed to gasp out.
“Oh, dearest. It’s alright, I’m here. You’re safe, I’m right here,” Mother cooed softly, folding Heather in a hug.

For the next few minutes Mother just held Heather. Gently stroking her furry ears as she cried herself out.
Gradually, Heathers sobs settled down to the occasional convulsive little sniffle.
In the silence that followed, Mother began to sing. It was a song Heather had never heard before.

“The skies once so blue and beautiful,
Are littered with crass, cruel foes.
The bleak, black wings beat a dreadful beat,
Over sorrowful songs of woes.”

“Songs of suffering and cruel murders,
All lament and never a voice.
Raised in grateful gladness to the heights,
Never reason to rejoice.”

“But,
It will not be so in the Mended Wood,
We’ll be free and glad again.
It will not be so in the Mended Wood,
When the heir of Jupiter reigns.”

It was a strange song.
It made her feel happy and heartbroken, heavy yet hopeful, all at once. But no longer scared.
Heather blinked sleepily as Mother eased her back onto the pillow and pulled the covers up to her chin. Mother continued to hum the song as she caressed Heather’s forehead. Heather smiled as Mother’s beautiful face and her song began to fade into the background.

Heather closed her eyes.
It was a lovely song.
It made her feel that, in the end…
Everything would be ok.

Description
Here is a short (as in one page) story that I wrote to go with this drawing.
Please note that this is a fan work and not official.
The Green Ember belongs to S.D.Smith and the Story Warren.

Heather woke with start.
She’d been having dream. A bad one.
She shook uncontrollably as lingering visions of terrible birds and foul-smelling dragons flickered across her mind.
What were they? Why was she dreaming about them?
Fear choked her, tears welling up in her eyes as she lifted her small hands and groped blindly in the darkness, reaching out. Needful. Wanting.
She could form only one thought. Mama!
“Mama! Mama!” She cried between the heaving sobs that racked her tiny frame.

A golden rectangle of light stretched itself across the floor as Mother appeared in the doorway, bearing a lamp. She placed the lamp down on a nearby table and was by Heather’s side in an instant.
“Heather dear, what’s wrong? Do you have a pain?” She asked anxiously as she checked her daughter over for any injury.
Heather shook her head, “Scary, birds a-and d-d-dragons!” She managed to gasp out.
“Oh, dearest. It’s alright, I’m here. You’re safe, I’m right here,” Mother cooed softly, folding Heather in a hug.

For the next few minutes Mother just held Heather. Gently stroking her furry ears as she cried herself out.
Gradually, Heathers sobs settled down to the occasional convulsive little sniffle.
In the silence that followed, Mother began to sing. It was a song Heather had never heard before.

“The skies once so blue and beautiful,
Are littered with crass, cruel foes.
The bleak, black wings beat a dreadful beat,
Over sorrowful songs of woes.”

“Songs of suffering and cruel murders,
All lament and never a voice.
Raised in grateful gladness to the heights,
Never reason to rejoice.”

“But,
It will not be so in the Mended Wood,
We’ll be free and glad again.
It will not be so in the Mended Wood,
When the heir of Jupiter reigns.”

It was a strange song.
It made her feel happy and heartbroken, heavy yet hopeful, all at once. But no longer scared.
Heather blinked sleepily as Mother eased her back onto the pillow and pulled the covers up to her chin. Mother continued to hum the song as she caressed Heather’s forehead. Heather smiled as Mother’s beautiful face and her song began to fade into the background.

Heather closed her eyes.
It was a lovely song.
It made her feel that, in the end…
Everything would be ok.