She stood, arrow nocked delicately to the string, the fletched end held between forefinger and thumb with an easy grace that bespoke long practice. However, her gaze was unsure, her knees bent together, her armor light and impractical, and except for the roughened calluses on her fingertips, she looked as one who lived a soft life.

But her gaze hardened to the edge of madness, and she grasped with sure familiarity the stone at her breast, then ah, the sweet change came, the pouring of her mind and spirit into a newer vessel, a stronger vessel, where her body sang as sweetly as a plucked bowstring, and she was young, and she was beautiful, and nothing could hurt her.

The song of the white dragon shrieked in her ears, and the delicious, tender warmth of the dragon's spirit and love surrounded her, and she was invincible in its glow. White armor the color of bone and polished silver surrounded her, hard as diamonds, but yielding as leather to her skin, coaxing her to a sweet perfection that belongs only to the young, the strong, and the deadly.

And the creature with the beauty of archangels and the white heat of the dragon's flame stretched her great blow and cried out a terrible and lovely sound as she released it, her body stretched impossibly back as if to hit the very moon. A shaft of pure light and joy spiraled crazily up with the speed of thought, and it struck, and it sunk into the moon above, or perhaps she only thought it did, but it didn't matter, for she was surrounded by life and joy, and the utter happiness of a young creature with strong legs, the dancing, dazzling energy that powered kings and great rulers, the force of the universe, and she was floating, lax and ambivalent in its center, drunk on its beauty, and she felt its power fill her to overflowing, and she was young, and she was beautiful, and nothing could hurt her.

She sunk back to the floor, the armor sinking back into the swirl of bright light, and her bow was small and ordinary once more, and her back held no swift moving wings, and she nearly sobbed with the departure of the White Dragon.

But she held it in and smiled tenderly at Dart, and giggled shyly as he smiled back, and she turned to run up the path ahead, for she was young, and she was beautiful, and nothing could hurt her.