I can't remember the last time I fell asleep and didn't dream about my mother. Every night it's always the same dream; the night she died. The coldness of her body and her pale features are forever engraved in my mind.
Waking up, I felt almost empty inside. I only remembered bits and pieces of the night before and the slight stinging of a headache told me why the night was fuzzy.
My "father" had kicked me out of Ironclaw. Not that I cared. It's not like I was ever planning on returning anyways, but the thought of not being able to return to the place my mother died, wounded.