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Born from her mother's womb, she was indeed a child of the earth.
Her small branches were broken at a young age, but alas, she was stubborn. Forcing new shoots in their place, leaving her old wounds to callous over in nature's harsh winds.
Bringing an alternate meaning to her house motto, "Our roots run deep, ever-growing."
She longed for watering, but she was so suffocated by the roots of others that she could barely drink a drop.
Only finding sustenance in the gentle rain of her mother.
But, with time, those roots withered and died, their trees uprooted by passing storms and forest fires. Yet, they were still wrapped around her limbs, the lessons of the past burning her skin in a way that only family could.
T'was a different type of love, but that didn't mean it was bad. Or at least that's what she told herself.
And if she kept believing, it had to come true. Didn't it?
Madelyn Renna was indeed a child of Earth.
A child of a mother. A daughter.
A woman, at least, in their eyes.
Fruits were picked from her tree long ago, most of them stolen. She supposed it was her duty: after all, people get hungry.
She just wished they’d asked first.
The young tree had braved all elements by her sixteenth name day, all but one. She was never scared of the fire; it was quite the opposite.
The warmth held her close, and with age, her roughened skin peeled off, revealing the scarred bark underneath.
She found comfort in the violence, as it was all she knew.
A witch once said it was her destiny to die by the flame, and for whatever reason, it didn’t scare her.
She wouldn’t be afraid to shout in pain.
For she knew that with her death, the seeds of her womb would spread with the wind of her screams and grow strong once more.
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