Fiona was the kind of girl who all her friends went to if they needed advice. She found it odd that her friends found her seriousness relieving in a time of crisis but then again, it wasn't that strange. The girls of her village rarely ever knew when to be serious; they liked to shriek and talk and giggle. Fiona wasn't that kind of girl. She was the one who noticed the small details and the one with the most reason. She was the reliable one, the one who constantly reminded them of the homework their teacher assigned them and she was the one who kept them on track.

Even the boys liked her; unlike the other girls who they found 'loud' and 'annoying', she was the one they could take seriously, although her silence sometimes concerned them.

"You don't talk a lot, do you?" they said to her one day after school. "You only talk when someone talks to you. You never start a conversation. Why don't you try it, for once?"

Fiona gave them a weary look. They sighed. "Okay, okay, never mind."

Truth be told, Fiona only felt comfortable speaking at home, with her mother and her father. She also felt very comfortable with the stray cat that lingered outside her bedroom window at night. In fact, the cat was probably the being that she spoke to the most, seeing that the cat couldn't outwardly express itself. Because of this, Fiona found it relieving knowing that her secrets and inner thoughts couldn't be passed along to others from the cat.

Many times, late at night when her parents were asleep, she would slip out of her bed, pull up a chair and open the window and look for the bright white cat. Its fur would be illuminated in the brilliance of the moon, making it difficult to miss. Fiona had become so accustomed to the cat that she only had to wait three minutes maximum before it showed up.

The snowy cat would leap onto the windowsill, paw at the girl, and sit, grooming itself as Fiona whispered to it.

"Father and the other men found a Fomor today," Fiona whispered one day, watching the cat stretch. "It was dead though, but I heard father say to mother that it died recently. Mother said that she's glad father taught me how to protect myself. But..."

Fiona lifted her left arm for the cat to see. The cat's light blue eyes flickered as it spotted the dark bruise on her fair skin. "Father hits hard," Fiona whispered solemnly. "I know he didn't mean it, but he looks like he's getting desperate for me to learn quicker. Am I not good enough? Am I a disappointment?"

Silence. The cat sat straight up and pawed at an imaginary strand of yarn. Fiona leaned over and reached for the ball of yarn underneath her chair and dangled a strand for the cat to play with.

"Mother says that I'm a good fighter. For a girl, that is. Father says so too but...I don't feel like I'm good. I don't feel strong. Father is training me longer and longer every day. Today, he helped me improve my kicks. I broke a pot today. Father was so happy so I didn't tell him that my leg hurt. It still does, but if father is happy, I don't care."

Fiona shifted in her seat. The cat stopped playing with the yarn and examined her carefully. Fiona reached out to pet the cat but the cat flinched and leapt onto the floor, exploring the room. It was the first time the cat actually came inside. Ever since Fiona spotted it three years ago when she was five, the cat had never taken the leap in.

Surprised, Fiona watched it in silence as it jumped onto her bed and walked in circles. It showed no signs of lying down so Fiona continued, "Tomorrow I will work on my defense. Father says that in order for me to survive, I have to have good defense. My arm got hurt today because the shield hit me hard when father attacked me. Mother says that he needs to get me a better fitting shield. But I don't want another shield. I like that shield. It was father's old shield."

The cat meowed quietly and, content with the softness of the bed, laid down, tail swishing passively in the air. Fiona slipped off her chair and limped to her bedside.

"I wish I was stronger," Fiona said tonelessly, slipping underneath the covers. "I sometimes wish I was a boy. Everyone says boys are stronger than girls. Do you think that's true?"

The cat lazily stared at Fiona. Fiona sighed. "I really don't want to believe it is. But maybe it doesn't have to be."

Silence. The cat's tail ceased its movements and tucked it beside its body. Fiona smiled a little but the smile faded. Her smiles rarely ever lasted for long. She slowly reached out and ran a few strands of the cat's white fur between her fingers. It was heavenly soft.

"I will be the first woman to be stronger than a boy. I will become stronger, much stronger, for father and for mother. I will fight for them. No...I will protect them," Fiona whispered. She tilted her head a little. "What do you think, Angel?"

Angel meowed and closed her eyes. Fiona followed suit and murmured, "I think so too."

Training with her father became more and more intense. Normally, Fiona would have been beaten and her mother would call for the training to stop out of fear that she was overworked. However, her father noticed a new look on his daughter's face. Determination, even a little coldness, showed her true emotions and he was pleased.

"Fiona, good, good!" her father yelled as he blocked the kicks. He was ecstatic when a kick she liked to call 'Amaranth Kick' cracked his shield.

Fiona didn't allow herself to be pleased with his praise. Her resolve was that if she let down her guard for one moment, it was all over. She couldn't let herself to be weakened by words. She couldn't.

Her wooden sword became worn over the course of three days after hours and hours of sparring. Again, this greatly satisfied her father. She overheard him relay the news to the other men and that if an invasion ever happened, she might stand a chance to survive.

"Fiona, darling, come inside. Your father is busy right now. Dinner is getting cold," her mother said gently, taking her back into the house and away from her father's conversation with the others.

Whenever she roamed the streets of the town, her friends would notice new wounds and bruises on her and asked whether or not her training was worth it. The girls would ask if having a father who was in charge of the defense of the town was good, since no other girl in town trained. The boys would be impressed and showed off their own bruises as if they were trophies.

The girls didn't find it amusing and left the boys to do as they pleased. "But Fiona, just because our fathers found a Fomor a week ago doesn't mean that they're going to attack," a girl said. "Can't you ask your father for a break? It looks painful."

Fiona shook her head. "I will become strong," she said simply, and the girls couldn't get anything else out of her.

Angel stopped by Fiona's window for several nights, never missing one. Fiona found it odd, since the cat would come by three times a week, sometimes four, and rarely five. It continued for another year, when Fiona turned nine. All this time, it came every day, pawing at the glass until Fiona came to open it.

"Angel, what are you doing here again? I'm actually tired," Fiona whispered one night, but she didn't mind. She enjoyed the cat's company.

The cat leapt onto her bed again and curled up with its tail tucked beneath its body. She watched Fiona, as if expecting her to talk.

"Today, father and the other men are worried," Fiona admitted, succumbing to Angel's long stare. "They found four dead Fomors this morning. The bodies were closer too. They don't know who killed them, but they don't even know if who killed them is human. Or maybe they do, but mother always finds me before they talk seriously and pull me away."

Angel licked her paw, as if this bit of news was inevitable.

"Do you think they'll attack?" Fiona asked the cat. "Everyone is worrying and some of my friends left town to another place. They're staying with family but there are some people who are talking about moving. Father is too stubborn to move, but mother is scared. She says she isn't but I think she's only saying that because I'm here."

Fiona fiddled with her dark hair for a while, comparing her long hair to Angel's fur. "Angel..." Fiona whispered.

The cat suddenly stood up and faced her, attentive.

"I'm scared, Angel."

Fiona held her palm out to the cat, who stared at it, as if considering it, and gave it a small lick before lowering her head to sleep.

Fiona moved her hand and kept it on Angel's head, stroking the cat as she succumbed to a deep slumber.

Her sleep was short.

Fiona awoken to screams and shouts followed by crackling and crashes from outside her window. Her eyes flickered open and she sat straight up, looking around her room. The crimson lights danced along the walls in a flaming pattern. Angel was gone from her side.

Fiona rolled out of bed and hurried to the door, feeling the wood for heat. There was nothing extremely hot and so she flung it open and scrambled out to the hallway.

The path to the front door was clear, but the path upstairs to her parents' room was blocked by fallen beams. The stairwell had collapsed.

Fiona fought her fear that began to grow deep inside of her and she dashed to the door before anything cold block her escape. The streets were filled with corpses strewn over the road, blood seeping into the dirt as fire licked up the houses in front of her.

Sparks flew into the air and small groups of people sprinted past her, not taking one second to notice her. Fiona glanced around hastily, looking for any signs of her parents. She realized that if her parents had escaped, surely they'd wake her up, right?

Something touched her feet and she jumped, only sighing to find Angel weaving in between her legs. "Angel," Fiona breathed. Angel purred and bounded down the street.

Fiona hastily followed the cat down to the end of the street. There, she found her father supporting her mother, whose face was contorted in pain and doused in tears.

"Fiona! Oh, my girl is alive! Thank Goddess!" her mother exclaimed.

"Mother!" Fiona gasped. "Father!"

Her father smiled weakly at her. There was blood running down the side of his face and soot adorned his clothes. "Your mother's ankle is sprained. We had to jump from our room."

They pulled her into a tight embrace and Fiona surprised herself by finding her eyes watering. This was a sign of weakness, so why couldn't she stop?

Fiona was shocked out of her thoughts when a harsh yowl rang in her ears. She broke out of the embrace and spun around, eyes widening when she saw a Gnoll hold Angel by the scruff of her neck. "Angel! No!" Fiona screamed. Her scream stunned her; she had never screamed, and her parents were bewildered.

"Angel! Mother, father, Angel's-" Fiona gasped, frozen in place. She stood there, on the other side of the road while Angel hissed at the Gnoll holding her.

The Gnoll swung the cat around wildly and Fiona knew by the look in Angel's eyes that it hurt her. But what could Fiona do at that point? She was, after all, a child.

"Fiona, DOWN!"

Fiona was pushed with such force that she stumbled and hit the ground hard. Pain shot through her legs and tears of pain blurred her vision. It didn't take long to figure out that another Gnoll had attacked her parents. It scared her; her mother could not walk and her father was empty-handed.

On the other side, the Gnoll raised Angel and Fiona found herself watching. She wailed as the Gnoll slammed Angel against the burning wall of the house. She heard the cat's bones break; there was now blood splattered on the wall and the smell of burning fur choked Fiona.

Shaking, Fiona gasped for air, but the air was filled with the putrid smell of dead, burning bodies. There was nothing she could do to save Angel now; she didn't even have much time to mourn her beloved friend. The Gnoll flung what remained of the cat into the fire and started towards her.

Behind her she heard her mother scream and Fiona glanced back. Her mother was hidden, away from the fight between her father and, now, two Gnolls. He was still weaponless, not to mention injured, but he held his ground.

Fiona's mother pointed at the Gnoll approaching Fiona and uttered a long, melancholy wail.

The wail broke Fiona's heart. She wished she would never hear her mother cry. It was too painful.

"Fiona," her father barked, "run! Run now!"

"Father, I must-"

"NOW!"

Fiona gritted her teeth. Her tears ran down her cheek but she did not run. Instead, she threw all her rationality away and rammed into the Gnoll head-on. The Gnoll took a step back, but that was all. Furious at the Fomor, Fiona couldn't help but let her rage and anger out and she yanked at the Gnoll's fur to serve as a distraction.

Gnolls weren't the brightest Fomors and the Gnoll she fought snarled and growled at her. It chilled her spine and sapped away much of her courage.

But she couldn't give up.

She took this moment to disarm the Gnoll and grabbed its weapon, which was a crude club with spike protruding out from the top. She had no shield, but she didn't care.

With a weapon in hand, she felt her rage return and all past lessons and exercise drills abandoned her. She violently hacked at the Fomor's head until a fountain of blood spurted from it. The Gnoll was kicked in the abdomen and Fiona stomped furiously until she could hear its bones break. Tears welled up again and she stomped and swung blindly as she mourned for Angel.

This continued for several minutes. Fiona felt her foot break through the skin and she found it stuck inside the Gnoll's body. Warm, flowing blood gushed out and bathed her feet with scarlet. The Fomor was dead long ago, but she didn't care.

When she finally calmed down, her tears were dry and her face became hardened to stone. She had shown so much weakness, she knew that her father would have been ashamed.

"Father..." she said quietly, turning around.

Fiona already knew that her father had killed the two Gnolls with his bare hands. However, the price for it wasn't worth it. He had lethal wounds, but he held on long enough to watch Fiona finish her first real fight. Before he collapsed, he smiled at her and said, "You've become truly strong, Fiona." And then he was gone.

Her mother's hiding spot had collapsed when he had fought off the two Gnolls and she was crushed underneath the burning rubble. Fiona knew this as well, and yet she had already accepted it. The pain lingered, but Fiona hardened herself within minutes so that she cold not feel the same pain again and again. She knew she would, and she found it unfair that a nine-year old must endure it.

But that night, she learned that life was never fair.

Her town somehow fought off the Fomors and many survived. However, the majority of the town burned up and the majority of the inhabitants that survived moved away. Some stayed behind to clean, and Fiona stayed with them until she could travel.

She waited for several more days, waiting for the right time to slip out of the town. She had snuck food and water into a bag and left the town in the middle of the night.

The moon shone brilliantly, and it made her feel empty, knowing that her companion was no longer there. However, she would continue on, telling herself she must stay strong. Fiona found herself heading north and she followed whatever path she found. Sometimes, she'd find men and women on the way and they'd offer her a ride, but she declined.

"If I walk, it will make me stronger," she explained to them.

Troubled, they would offer her food and she would accept it. She was not stupid; in order to survive, she needed to keep her food supply up.

Eventually, after two weeks of walking north, she decided to take a day off and rest by a river. The day was cool and the clouds provided shade from the sun, so her skin stayed relatively fair. There were still traces of bruises from her spars with her father and she felt her eyes sting again.

"No," she told herself, wiping them dry with the back of her hand. "I mustn't cry."

She would distract herself by training. Along with food, she snuck out a shield and a sword. The sword was real; it wasn't wooden like the one she used for practice. It was heavy though, and she trained herself to carry heavier things so that she was able to wield the sword with ease.

Later in the afternoon, she heard someone in the river, splashing around. Alarmed, Fiona hastily crouched behind a boulder and peered around to see who was with her.

A young man with a haughty posture and a boy roughly around her age were standing knee deep in the river. The boy held a spear in hand, watching the river intently while the young man watched the boy.

Minutes passed in total silence and then, suddenly, the boy stabbed the water at a slim shadow. He was rewarded with nothing.

"No, no, faster. Goddess, and you're supposed to be speedy? It's been two weeks since the villagers told me and the others that you're fast, Lann. And what have you proven? Nothing. Again."

The boy, Lann, sighed but did as he was told. Five minutes passed and he stabbed at the water. Agian, the spear came back out empty-handed.

"No, you just don't get it, do you?" the young man growled. He threw up his hands and stepped out of the river. "Now you stay here until you catch one fish. I'll be back by dusk but if you still don't get one by then, I'm making you do fifty push-ups, no exceptions!"

The young man stepped onto land and rolled down his pants before slipping on his shoes. He left the river and disappeared through the trees, leaving Lann alone in the river with a sour expression.

Curious, Fiona approached quietly, finding interest in what Lann was doing. The running water of the river was loud enough to cover her footsteps and she pulled herself up into a tree overlooking the river and Lann.

"Goddess," Lann groaned, "how am I supposed to do this?"

Fiona spent the next hour observing Lann's posture and technique. After that hour and he still couldn't get it, she became slightly annoyed that he wasn't doing anything to change his stance. Then again, she had never speared fish before so she couldn't really say anything about it.

"Does it have to be speared?" she heard herself ask.

Lann jumped and glanced around wildly. He spotted her in the trees and his alarm faded. "Oh...hello there."

Fiona nodded her acknowledgment.

Lann frowned and said, "Why don't you come down? I'm Lann. And you are?"

Fiona didn't move at all, but she replied back, "I'm Fiona."

"Nice to meet you, Fiona," Lann said. Then he heaved a sigh and climbed back onto land. "So how long have you been watching?"

"A little over an hour," she said tonelessly.

Lann tilted his head at the lack of emotion in her voice but he continued on casually, "Have you really? Then you got any pointers? Gallagher's trying to see if I can spear fish. He doesn't want to take me out into the open water to fish because it's dangerous. Apparently, a lot of duels take place there and they might accidentally knock me overboard."

Lann shook his head and added under his breath, "But spearing fish takes too long."

Fiona wondered if continuing the conversation meant that he would assume they'd become friends. She didn't want to make friends; she didn't want to get hurt nor did she want anyone else to. "Sorry, but I can't," she said.

"Huh? Can't what?"

"Talk to you."

Lann was bewildered. "Why?"

"Because I might befriend you and if I do and something bad happens, I'll get hurt or you'll get hurt," Fiona explained as indifferently as she could. "I don't want anyone to get hurt."

Lann considered this for a moment. Then he beckoned for her to come down and this time, she did. She planned on leaving the moment she came down but Lann caught her arm and said, "As long as there are humans and Fomors in this world, everyone will get hurt. You can't save everyone, Fiona. Isn't it better to have and lose than to never have at all? My father used to tell me that and...my father..."

Fiona recognized the tone Lann had and she softened. "You got hurt too..." she whispered.

Lann blinked and forced a laugh. "Ah, yeah. I'm recovering. It's still painful, but pain makes you stronger, right?"

Fiona was surprised at this. "It does?"

"Yeah. Pain is, well, painful. But if you can recover, you can overcome it. That's because you're getting stronger.," Lann said slowly. "My father said that too."

Fiona was silent. She ran this new information over and she nodded. "I see...thank you, Lann. I suppose you're right. But still..."

"Hey, don't worry about it. If you become friends with me, you'll be fine," Lann said. "I won't die so easily, and it looks like you won't either." He nodded at the heavy sword hanging from Fiona's wasit. "If you can climb and carry that thing, you're strong."

"But am I strong enough?" Fiona asked quietly.

Lann frowned for a moment, then he added, "Were you here to see that man I was with?"

Fiona nodded.

"His name is Gallagher. He took me in and is training me so that one day, I'll be in the Crimson Blades. It's a mercenary, so they're like the Royal Army, but smaller. Why don't you join me? I think he'll be happy to have another person."

Gallagher wasn't exactly 'happy' at first. When he came back at dusk, he was thrilled to see four bass speared, but when he found out that Lann had help from Fiona, he yelled, "Then what's the point of this day if you had help? And who the hell is this girl?"

"She's Fiona," Lann said nervously. "I was thinking that maybe...you could train her too?"

Gallagher's nose flared. "Oi, it took me days to get captain to let me keep you. Imagine what he'll say if I take her in too. And how do you know if she has talent? So what if she can carry that sword? Carrying a sword and fighting with a sword are two completely different things, Lann."

"What can she do to prove herself?" Lann asked.

Gallagher growled, "Seriously?"

"What can I really do?" Fiona asked in an undertone.

Gallagher rubbed his chin for a moment, his eyes flickering over to Lann. "Hey boy, you looking for a practice duel?"

"Huh?"

Several minutes later, Fiona and Lann watched Gallagher draw a ring in the ground. If one could land three blows on the other, they would win. That or push the other outside the ring three times.

"With real swords?" Lann asked.

"Obviously," Gallagher said gruffly. "Now stop talking. Ready, Lann? Ready, little girl?"

Fiona gave Gallagher a quick glare before he signaled for the round to begin. Fiona took a defensive stance and analyzed Lann's attacks. He was fast, relying on his speed to zip in and out. However, he looked unsure, since Fiona was not attacking. She figured that Lann waited for an opponent to pull their arm back in after striking out to attack; he couldn't do that is she didn't attack first.

Seconds after her first analysis, Lann decided he was tired to waiting and lunged in. Fiona brought the shield over and blocked the hit. She was glad her father hit much harder than Lann; his lunge was strong, but not as strong as her father's. She took that moment to use her shield and direct Lann's sword away while she pointed the tip of her own sword at his throat.

"Point," she said.

Lann nodded at Gallagher. "See?"

"Shut up. You're not trying."

The second round ended with Lann pushing Fiona outside the ring. He was able to attack chains and chains of combinations, forcing Fiona to scoot backwards until she was out.

"Point to Lann!" Gallagher said.

But Lann didn't seem too ecstatic.

The third round, Fiona saw that Lann wasn't trying anymore. She easily knocked him to the ground and pointed the tip at his throat once more.

"Point for Fiona," Lann said.

Gallagher's face was as hard as Fiona's.

The fourth round ended up with Fiona pointing her sword at Lann again. "See? She won! That means she can train with me!" Lann said, getting back up.

But he didn't stay on his feet for long. Fiona dropped her sword and reached out to grab his collar. She sneered at him, "Are you trying to make a fool out of me?"

"What?"

"Are you going easy because I'm a girl? Is that it? Or are you taking pity on me? I don't need your pity, Lann. If you're treating me like this, forget it."

"It's not that!" Lann protested.

But Fiona wouldn't hear it. She tossed him to the ground, picked up her sword, sheathed it, and gave Gallagher a glare. "And you. He's just a kid, like me. He's had it hard, so don't hurt him. Don't give him any more stress."

Gallagher stared at her and she stared back. After what seemed like forever, he burst out laughing, clapping his hands together. Unsure of what t make of it, Fiona glanced at Lann, who was just as unsure as she.

"You know what, little girl, I like you. Forget what I said, come back with us. Who knows? You're actually an adorable looking little girl if your expression wasn't so stony," Gallagher laughed.

Before she knew it, Fiona was led by Gallagher and Lann to Colhen, a tiny little place with plenty of people running around. To her surprise, there were one or two women mercenaries hanging around, even though Gallagher had said there were none.

"I didn't say that, little girl," Gallagher rolled his eyes. "I said that there aren't very many."

"My name isn't 'little girl'. It's Fiona."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Lann leaned in and whispered, "You'll get used to him eventually."

Fiona sighed. She didn't think she'd end up with mercenaries. But then again, she didn't know where she would end up. Despite her earlier resolve, she had made friends with Lann and, to her displeasure, Gallagher. He went around the Mercenary Outpost, bragging about how he'd raise the two most strongest fighters in all of the kingdom.

There were some laughter and Lann even joined in. The atmosphere was significantly different. It was light. It was warm. It reminded her of home.

Fiona scolded herself as she wiped away a few tears but she caught Lann's eyes and looked away, ashamed.

"It's okay to cry," he said softly. "Crying isn't weakness. It's a way to heal the soul."

Fiona stared at him. He smiled at her. She let out a long sigh and asked, "How do you know all of this?"

Lann laughed. "My father."

Fiona thought back to her own father. Now that she thought about it, her father had never said that crying was weak.

"I'm not crying," Fiona stated.

Lann didn't believe her. "It's okay. Remember, the strong are those who recover from pain."

Fiona stared up at the sky. It was so blue. It was so bright. The sun was warm.

"You okay now?" Lann asked.

Fiona glanced down at Lann and gave him her rare smiles. "Yeah. I'll recover."