A/N: I WILL NOT SUPPORT HACK AUTHORS. I WILL NOT SUPPORT HACK AUTHORS. I WILL NOT SUPPORT HACK AUTHORS.

GODDAMMIT, I WON'T.

Therefore, the fanfiction.

I sit here in the glade and dream. I cradle my son in my arms, my arms a protective circle that holds the world away. I never want him to feel the pain and sorrow that is life. But I will have no choice. Still, I dream of a world of peace and safety and love for my little son, his face glowing as his arms wave in the dappled sunlight of the trees, his green eyes glowing when the shadows cover the sun.

I dream of many things, here in this quiet place where no one follows me, where for a few moments I can have peace and pretend I do not know what will happen to me, why I live each day with my son as if it were my last. I wonder if he will remember me, when he is grown. I wonder if he will ever know his own mother, if anyone will tell him of me. I close my eyes and sing him lullabies, and dream of an arm around my shoulders, his voice twining with mine, no shadows between us, no miles, no pain. I sing to him of trees and life and music, and sometimes his eyes open when I think he is asleep and he grabs my dress and cries for milk. I feed him and dandle him on my knee for hours, but the time passes too quickly, and I set him down, let what was Raum come and take him away from me for another day.

Sometimes, if there is time, I close my eyes and dream of a little house on the edge of the woods, dream of myself standing in the kitchen, dream of him lounging in a chair and talking, nothing important, just talking, and I see him running back to me, little legs flailing wildly as he shouts to me, "Mama!"

And I dream his name, and that is the name I whisper to him as I cradle him away from the world and my pain. "Isfrael," I say, and it is the name of the dream.