Amazons

Her mother used to tell her stories of her father and the men who had taken him away. When her mother's warmth turned to fire and she tossed and turned with the heat she had repeated the stories she knew her mother loved the best. Her uncles had lowered her mother into the ground not to much later and as tradition commanded placed her sword above it.

Today the men from her mother's fairy tales had returned, it was her brother's turn.

"Vanora!" The young girl lifted her head.

"Dagonet?" Her older brother rounded the corner of the hut to face her in the cemetery.

"They are here." She quickly lifted her skirt and made her way to her brother's side.

"And you have spoken with them?" He nodded slowly. Her brother had always been calm but after their mother had died his silence had become constant. She grasped his arm. Her voice barely containing the anxiety. "And?"

A small smiled, barely curving the corners of his mouth, donned his tanned face. "You are to come also."

She dropped to her knees and covered her misting eyes with a hand. "Gods be praised."

Dagonet sank down her level, grasping her shoulders. "We leave soon, pack quickly." She nodded and he left her.

---

The Roman cavalry unit rode slowly towards the village. Something in the air made their hair stand up. The first man they noticed was carrying a bucket of water towards the stables. The commander raised a hand. "You there, halt!" The man looked up surprised and rushed the last five feet to the stables. The slighted Roman pressed his heel into his horse's side. As he reached the stable a beautiful middle aged woman exited.

"May we help you?"

The commander faltered for a second before donning his military voice. "We have come to collect the son you are to give to Rome."

The woman looked askance. "We have no able sons here." She paused a moment before reentering the stable. A minute later she brought a horse with her. "You are here because of the pack you made with the Sarmatian Knights." The Roman nodded. She sighed. "My daughter, Reah, she will suffice no?"

The rest of the unit looked curiously at their commander. A woman fighting? Yet curiously forsaking his Roman bravado he jumped off his horse and made his way slowly towards the woman. "You represent the lost tribe of immortal women?" She nodded. He took a deep breath and looked to her daughter. "You are willing to part with your daughter?"

The brown haired woman smiled and placed a hand on her conquerors cheek. "I am now."

---

She feigned a turn right to quickly make the left efficiently knocking the play sword out of the boy's hand. Cocking an eyebrow and smiled coyly. "Give?" The wide eyed boy on his knees nodded in a frightened manner. She shrugged and let him run back to his mother, her own father coming up and pulling her roughly in a hug.

"You did well my little flower."

She smiled. Her entire life she had wanted his love. Three years ago she got it. Her sickly brother was near death and rather than face the wrath of the Roman cavalry her father began to train her. She understood the hypocrisy of it and knew that it was not all fun and games because one day the Romans would come but today her father hugged her proudly.

Watching the seas of grass meet with the sky she saw the beginnings of a storm and something inside of her began to shiver. She had not as many days left now. Her attention was only disturbed by her mothers scream and father's sigh.

"Blodwyn!"

They had come for her.

---

She watched forty-five men gallop across the hills and cursed her infertility. If she had but one son she would not curse this day so much. Instead, she thought looking over her shoulder, I have but one girl. One girl who was currently spinning in the wild flowers. She had to act quickly.

"Bretta!"

She took a knife to her hair and bundled her warmly. Tears began flowing as she made her way to the horses remembering the consequences that had befallen the next tribe over who had contracted the cough. Just as she had saddled her daughter another coughing fit took over. She wiped the blood from the corners of her mouth and tied her sword to the saddle. Just as the Romans approached she whispered her last sweetness to her daughter and gave the horse a good smack.

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