"Mother, why does my mate hate me?"
"Sweetheart, he doesn't hate you. He just doesn't know how to treat you kindly." My mother responded, stroking my hair as I leant against her shoulder. I sighed, content with her presence.
"Why, Mother?" I asked, looking up at her. She truly was a rare vision of beauty; I was a near copy of her.
Her speckled green eyes that I had inherited twinkled as she looked at me. Small dimples appeared on her cheeks as she smiled mischievously. "Honey, that's not my story to tell. You have to ask him yourself."
I pouted. "He'll only get upset and tell me to mind my own business." It felt good to confide my issues to my Mother. Even if she was only an escape mirage.
A feminine giggle was heard from behind my mother. My ears perked up and I peeked around her, on
