“Mother …” she gasped, eyes flickering open.

Letting out a cry, Philomel threw herself forwards and wrapped her arms around the small faun. Blinking with large, confused eyes, Celandine gazed up at her mother before letting out a small smile.

“Lady told me you would come to rescue me!” she whispered, amazed. “And you did!”

Her mother began to cry, big wet tears that fell down her face. Celandine did not like to see her mother cry so she stuck out arms to her, knowing the word and concept of 'empathy’ from recent reading. It was a good word and meant things like 'being nice and understanding of feelings’.

Philomel threw her own arms up and bent to slide them around the girl. Pulling her towards her she hugged Celandine tight, a breath of relief escaping from between lips.

“Thank you mother.”

Kissing her lightly on the head Philomel held onto Celandine, and the younger faun felt the cold heavy drops of tears fall onto her head. She drew back, placing a hand on mother's cheek.

“I'm okay,” she said, looking at her in the eyes. “I knew I would be okay.”

But the faun mother could not help crying. She pulled Celandine back into a hold, hugging her tightly to her. Celandine had to smile and let it happen. After all she had had the vision, not mother. It was her who knew about all these things, not mother. The lady in the green dress gave her the dream. That single dream that, though it could not make the fear of the beast go away, it could give Celandine hope that she was not going to die. The pain of the stone stare still might happen. Thus, when the animal had come lunging for her she had screamed, “Mother,” knowing that Philomel had to be close by.

Philomel cried for a few further minutes, until Celandine grew a little annoyed. She squirmed and Philomel nodded, letting go and sniffing, her smile great. “Sorry, sorry,” she apologised. Celandine wriggled back on the bed, bringing up the blanket to her chin. She made room for Philomel, who smiled and moved fully onto it. The older faun arranged herself around by her daughter, taking some of the blanket for herself.

“Mother.”

“Yes dear,” Philomel said softly, her voice still a little sniffy.

“I love you.”