It was springtime in the Bree-fields. Outside of their family home, Odelynne's mother, Diane, stood before a canvas overlooking a wild range of hills and flowers. Her daughter, Odelynne, who was fourteen winters old, was at her mother's feet with a bouquet of flowers she had already picked earlier in the morning. Odelynne was plucking petals in the whimsical way only young girls could, chanting about if her ideal knight in shining armor loved her, or if he loved her not.
Diane smiled always fondly at her daughter's antics, knowing it would take a special sort of man to settle her wild spirit. She traced the silhouette of mountain rises in the distance of her painting, as Odelynne began to press the flowers that saved her petal plucking into the pages of an old book. It was an old sketchbook of Diane's, one that she had passed to her daughter so she could learn the basics of art.
"Odelynne," she said in a soft tone. "Take your book and stand by the lake for me," Diane directs, gesturing with her hand where she wanted her daughter to stand.
"Are you going to paint me?" Odelynne asks in an excited tone of voice, her book in hand as her mother posed her, tucking her red hair over one shoulder.
"Yes," her mother replies with a smile. She turns away to go back to her canvas, and suddenly a vicious cough overtakes her. Diane is doubled over, coughing viciously.
"Mother?!" Odelynne exclaims in alarm, but Diane holds a hand out to stop her as she straightens up.
"I... I-i'm fine. It is just allergies," she insists to her daughter's worried expression. Diane offers her a small smile. "I mean it. I will be fine. It is spring, and with spring comes pollen and rain. Now, let me paint you, darling..."
