Andra of Erimon

I tried to shade this, I really did! Yes, I know her eyes are off and her bust is too high (again.) By the time I got to her tunic, I was too tired and my hand was too black to finish shading it. So it's not done, and might never get done, but... I tried! Oh yeah, that planet thing in the background is her gypsy charm, by the way. Only BIGGER. And she doesn't always have the Leondrean Seal on her forehead, that's only after she saves Alethia and earns herself a place on the Draconian Council.

Another sad scene, whoopee... sorry it's so long...

As I made my way into the Gypsy’s Bramble, the sun was about to duck below the horizon. I had to pick a path through the thorns and thistles on the outskirts of the camp. Little white puffs exited my mouth when I breathed.
Several gypsy women were gathered around a cooking pot suspended over a fire. They bustled to and fro, shooing the small children out from under their feet. Shuddering as I felt the heat of the campfire, I approached a woman with a violet scarf wrapped around her head. “Pardon me, but have you heard anything about –”
The woman took one look at me – at the streak in my hair - and grabbed my arms. “Good job you’re here, child. Your mother is very ill. She took a fever last week that’s bound to do her in any minute. Run, child, and you still might catch her.” She turned me in the right direction and gave me a shove. “Go on!”
My heart dropped into my boots. My mother was dying, a mother I had never known. I thought of the vision I had seen in my charm, a brown-skinned woman with long, dark hair, her face flushed, eyes closed in restless sleep. My steps quickened until I was nearly running through the camp, dodging fires and gypsies and painted wagons. I knew the tent when I saw it. Breathing heavily, I leaned on my knees for a moment, collected myself, and went in.
The interior of the tent was stuffy and full of people, most of them with their backs to me. I jostled my way through them, pulse barreling along at a terrific pace. Was I about to meet the woman that had raised me for the first two years of my life? Or was I too late?
A gnarled gypsy healer was bent over the woman on the cot, pressing a cloth to her forehead. I could see that the woman’s breathing was slow and labored. Her chest rose in irregular hitches under the brightly colored blanket. A few strands of black hair clung to her sweat-slick face.
“Mother?” It was almost a cry.
The onlookers gasped – realizing, no doubt, who I was. My mother’s eyes fluttered open. They were pale green, like my own. A trembling hand lifted off the blanket and reached for me. “My child. My baby.”
I sank to my knees beside the cot as the healer levered herself upright. “Everyone out!” she squawked, flapping her arms at the crowd. “Give the girl a bit of privacy. Out!”
“Mother.” I took her hand. Her skin was hot to the touch. Behind me, the gypsies were backing out of the tent and muttering to each other in low voices. I barely noticed.
My mother gazed at me, her eyes tracing my face. “I never thought...” she whispered, and a tear soaked into her hair. I swallowed down a sob, feeling the weakness of her pulse in her wrist.
“I had to see you,” I said. “If only once... it’s hardly fair, you know... you knew me, but I couldn’t remember you.”
She smiled through her tears. “You are beautiful, my child. You look so like your father...” Her voice dropped to a murmur. “I am glad I was able to see the lovely young woman you have become.”
A long sigh rattled out of her, and her thin hand went limp in my grasp.
The sob I tried to hold back nearly choked me. I had to let it out, and with it came a storm of tears. I laid my forehead on my mother’s, feeling the burning heat leave her body until she was as cold as the wind outside. The chill crept into the tent, filled the space left by the gypsies, and numbed my heart. I had found my mother at last, and then lost her again. I wept for her, and my tears froze as they fell.

Poor everybody in my story. I am such an evil author. *maniacal cackle*

Commander Kip the Eeeevil
TEEN TITANS! (Larry, it's perfect!... Larry... Larry?...)
Normal is overrated!