I gazed at her, the warrior woman, standing on the hill where crum'bling stones of castles made their home. Her form against the solemn sky stood noble, tall and fierce; tenacity bespake her ev'ry stride.
The clouds before her only served to frame her fairer still; through richly dark, they parted just enough to filter drops of sunlight to where she stood like the moon; an argent gleam shone in her mane and eyes.
I frowned at her from where I hunched, longed for her iron will, clawed my lackluster hair and tore my heart. The flat grey fog above the hole where I shrank in the dust had only seen me cower, curse, and cry.
As we prepared to march again I struggled up the hill in hopes that I could find what grace she knew. I didn't know she was still there, her back against a rock; I caught her eye and realized