. . . . . . . . Lexy's P. O. V. . . . . . . . .
" Mom?" The young Lexy called, resting her little head on her mother's breasts.
The young mother's hands runs through her little girl's hair, brushing them from her face as the night breeze carried it forth and back. She lost count of how many times she has gazed at her little one under the crescent moon. She only wished things had turned out so differently at the beginning.
She had had Valerie when she was very young and although that had left a scar on her heart, she remained the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to her.
As she continues to stroke her daughter's hair, she remembers the lullaby she always hummed for her when she went to sleep, how well it rhymed with the howling wind tonight. And she smiled.
Lexy's hair is soft and light between her fingers, her eyes a shade of starry green like a blade of glass. She looks almost exactly like her mother.