Home was, is, and always would be the house that her mother owned in Shienar. It was modest, with three rooms downstairs and two up. The dark wood had always seemed supernatural in some way. Sometimes Zarayne thought the house was wrought from Avendesora, as if the roots stretched all of the way from the heart of the Threefold Land into northern Shienar. In the dream it seemed polished like a mirror, reflecting the flat snowy plain that endlessly surrounded it. Warm light shone in the downstairs window. Mother had the fire on. The thought of warmth and her mother drew Zarayne indoors.
She was sat in front of the fireplace, cooking in the heat. She was inside Avendesora, baking under the same sun as her people. Shienar never felt anything approaching an Andoran summertime, let alone the extreme temperatures of her homeland, but the fire was as close as she came. Her dress changed as soon as she thought about it. Gone was the banded white dress; in came a cadin'sor, cut and sewn in the way of the Chumai Sept of the Taardad Aiel. Wetlanders never saw such nuances but she did.
Mother sat nearby, sewing a green shawl whilst singing. Zarayne hummed the tune, her voice not as perfect as Sinead's.
Life is a dream / That knows no shade
Life is a dream / Of pain and woe
A dream from which / We pray to wake
A dream from which / We wake and go
"Why are you singing that?" Zarayne turned from the fire, seeing a look of sadness upon her mother's face. "What's the matter?"
"I miss you Zarayne," Sinead replied in a voice so soft it seemed like a whisper.
Zarayne smiled sorrowfully. "I miss you too, Mother."
Together they took up the song's next verse:
Who would sleep / When the new dawn waits?
Who would sleep / When the sweet winds bow?
A dream must end / When the new day comes
This dream from which / We wake and go