Without saying goodbye

A bitter scent of illness. The howling of a merciless winter wind. The room was dim; lit only by a tiny fire that could not be fed any more of the nearly depleted woodpile. There was a feeble cough from the bed in the corner. Though she had been forbidden, Myrna crept toward the bed.

“Mother?” She whispered as she reached the bed. Covered by a thick stack of blankets, her mother's eyes slowly opened; their rich brown a shocking contrast with the pallidness of her face.

“Myrna, don't tell me...” Her's mother's voice was so faint, and trailed off as her brows furrowed with concern.

“I'm not sick.” Myrna said quickly. Her mother's expression softened slightly.

“You shouldn't have come.” Her mother scolded, though her lips twitched with the beginning of a smile.

“I had to see you.” Myrna said quietly before biting her lip. “Both Father and Morell acted strange during dinner, I was afraid-” she cut off, clutching her arms to her chest.

A shiver racked through her mother, despite the blankets. “My child,” Myrna leaned closer to in order to hear her mother, “I would never leave you without saying goodbye.”