Run…run…run…that's it, your training is nearing completion. This year shall be the penultimate of your training. You will stop soon enough, Little Sparrow, and then you will be able to take down Lucien.
Theresa's voice echoed in her mind. Sparrow grinned, then grunted and sped through the forest. As she ran she mused on the night that Rose had died-again.
Anyone watching would have noticed the line of determination across her brow, the clenched teeth and fists, the sudden pick up of the pace. They would, also, wonder as to why she was bereft of shoes.
Then one look at the soles of her feet would have revealed them about as tough as leather. But since no-one was around, no-one noticed these changes.
And Sparrow had long since ceased caring about what her body did while she ran.
She says so little. Ever since Rose died, she has said next to nothing. Theresa sighed. She worried for the child. Silent. Stately. She killed as an assassin and nothing less.
A truly formidable warrior, and not even at her peak. Ah, Sparrow, how strong you will be once you complete your training? Not to mention once you unlock your powers.
Theresa's lips were allowed a brief, slight smile, before she turned on her heel and walked back into the gypsy camp.
Sparrow completed her run round the lake and skidded to a halt as she encountered a bandit.
"Ello darlin!" He leered.
"Huh." Sparrow grunted-once again, displaying a profoundly honed lack of bother and verbal justice towards the situation.
"Eh?" He said, confused. Sparrow just smirked and removed his head. His last expression was priceless.
Ouch, he had that coming. Theresa told her. Sparrow laughed, then sprinted round the lake again.
Once you're done, Sparrow, come back to the camp. It's getting dark. Theresa ordered. Sparrow nodded, and sped off round the lake.
This time, she mused upon the various ways of killing Lucien.
I'm going to corner that man, and I'm going to shoot him in the nuts first.
Then I'll shoot him in the heart-if he has one, which I doubt.
She smiled, and the one woman that was around squealed and fled for her life at the sight of the evil grin that had spread itself across the face of one renowned in the camp for being virtuous and beautiful.
As darkness fell, Sparrow entered the camp. She got a few appraising looks from some of the boys. Confused, she walked over to Theresa.
"Got looked at." She said.
"You are fifteen, Sparrow. You're a young woman. Of course they'll look at you. And you are very pretty, you know." Theresa added. Sparrow blushed.
"Not getting distracted, though. I'll be fine." She said, determined. Theresa nodded her approval.
She's getting so focused, it's incredible. Sparrow smiled at the approval. Theresa was the closest thing she had to a mother.
"Now, to bed." Theresa ordered, and Sparrow obeyed. She jumped over her little picket fence, then climbed into her caravan and closed the doors. She lay down on her mat and sighed peacefully.
Soon, I'll have my revenge. Lucien will pay for what he's done to Rose. She crossed her fingers and then uncrossed them. A strange, aching feeling came to her gut, and a strange picture appeared in her mind. A man, who she had never seen before, with black hair, pale skin and red clothes.
Who is this and what does this mean? She shook her head and ridded herself of the image.
I need to focus on my fighting, not on some guy who I've never seen before and most likely never will.
Boys aren't my priority. Focus, Sparrow, FOCUS!
So saying, she drifted off to sleep.