The Defeated
She stood about six feet tall, hips casually cocked to one side and her muscular arms crossed over her
favorite leather jacket. Johanna looked pissed, but then again, Johanna Mason was always pissed at
someone. So naturally, I became friends with her…that was a good idea, I thought. I immediately
regretted thinking that. She and I had been friends for ages, we would secretly mock the government,
tell each other how terrible our lives are, and when we got to be old enough, we'd even train for The
Games together: Johanna with her twin axes, and me, with my large throwing knife. Johanna sneered,
breaking my train of thought. "Vyra! Hello? Are you sure today isn't a holiday or something, because
you're damn sure going to give me frostbite if you keep out here much longer". I muttered my
apologies, and couldn't help smiling a little as I motioned for her to come inside. Johanna's long, auburn
hair tickled my arm as she strutted past me, found one of our barstools, and abruptly parked herself on
it. "So" I started, trying to break the silence. Johanna rarely comes to visit me, I wonder why she's here? .
Now, it's her turn to laugh, "I know, I know. I don't visit you much anymore, but I'll get to the serious bit
of why I'm here soon enough. First, what do you say to some tea? It's ridiculously cold outside, if you
haven't noticed". Before I even get the chance to answer Johanna, she's rummaging through our cedar
shelves, looking for my Aunt's antique teapot, and the black tea leaves she gathered awhile back. I find
another chair and take a seat as she pours a cup of steaming hot tea for each of the three of us. I take a
sip, and as it burns its way down my throat, I study Johanna. She doesn't seem nervous, I observe. Means
whatever she's here for has to mean good news. Right?
