Eyes flashing pure, unfiltered hate from cornflower blue eyes, a thriving, healthy rage that had nurtured her all of her short life, the driving force behind her every motion, the blind fury of it all prompting her forward where a lesser person might have dropped.

Even as she stretched her muscles for the lining of the shot, the clean, limber motion of pulling the bow back, the anger boiled beneath her skin, causing fever bright spots of high color to burn in her fair cheeks, and her eyes to narrow to mere slits, blazing passion.

She wanted them to suffer, all of them, to punch their frail bodies full of screaming holes until their writhing stopped, and their guts lay spilled in grotesque harmony on the roadway. She wanted to scream into their faces, every last one of them, and make them cower into their holes because that's all they were, worthless little cringing beasts.

But no. For the good of her country, and for the good of the world, she walked with them, packed with them, ate, slept, and drank with them, gritting her teeth through their inane banter and waiting for them to find the Moon Mirror so that she could go home where she was needed.

And now she was forced to snipe out useless monsters on their seemingly unending path, lending HER aide and Her succor to her companions, a thankless task for the biggest group of idiots to cross Millie Seseau.

She ground her teeth together, a hair raising rasping sound, and released the bow in a perfect motion, well practiced, sending her hate and pure spite screaming towards her foe, burying itself into its eye and letting it die swiftly.

She released her breath and eyed her dragoon spirit as it absorbed her anger, her pure hatred, and the trembling ache in her arms brought on by the bow. It swallowed it all, and never said anything, and she was grateful. To disappear, then to be borne again on its white heat was more than anyone deserved and she was grateful.

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Miranda looked contemptuously at the slender, black haired woman with darkness in her eyes. Rose stared expressionlessly at her for a moment, then turned to walk on, cool as a lioness.

Miranda hated her most of all.

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A.N: (I always rather disliked Miranda. Thank you for all of your reviews.)