Author's Note: All properties are the rights of their respective owners, Dynamite Entertainment, etc.

Well, I said the end of the month and, while I am cutting it close, I made it.

One thing before I get started, these would not be as good as they are without help from two guys behind the scenes. TheCarlosInferno, who gives me a bunch of ideas, and tells me when mine are awful, and V-rcengetorix, who serves as a beta, helping turn my drafts into the final product you all see today. Thanks to them for helping me out with this story all year.

This chapter is not going to be the most exciting, but some of you had asked about character backstory, and that's what this is. For such a quiet moment, I felt an equally quiet title would be appropriate, and that is what this is.

Once Upon a Time in Hyboria

Chapter 11: Long Night of Solace

With the sun descending over the horizon, Walker, Sonja, and Lyreen made camp by a small stream where they watered the horses. Not long after, the Hyrkanian removed a bow from her horse and disappeared, presumably to hunt whatever game roamed the arid plains. The Bounty Hunter had long since learned to not doubt the woman's abilities, and so he and Lyreen had gotten a small fire going, both staying close to enjoy its warmth as darkness fell, and the temperature along with it.

Walker kept his attention split between the teenage girl to his left, undoubtedly still reeling from the horrific events she had endured, and the Winchester on his right, well within reach should he need it. He noticed that Lyreen was stealing glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking, and sensing she wanted to say something, turned around to catch her in the act, locking eyes with her. Stunned, Lyreen's eyes widened to an amusing extent, prompting the Gunfighter to chuckle, "If you got something to say, spit it out."

"You are a warrior, yes?" asked the girl, who was maybe sixteen years old, but already carried herself with a weight that Walker knew would probably never leave her. His answer to her query was a simple nod, not bothering to be pedantic about the question. "How do you fight? You carry no sword, mace, or axe," she observed. "Are you some sort of archer? If so, where is your bow?"

"Close, but not quite," replied Tombstone as he reached for the Winchester. "This is my weapon," announced Walker with no small bit of pride, "It's a weapon from my land, and a damn fine one."

"I see…" answered Lyreen as she looked at the repeater he held in his hands, trying to make sense of it, "But, what is it? It is unlike any weapon I have ever seen."

"Think of it almost like a bow," began Walker before working the lever action and catching the ejected cartridge, "And these are the arrows. Smaller than an arrow, but much, much faster." He handed Lyreen the .44-40 cartridge and watched as she inspected it, trying to grasp how it worked, but coming up short. "The real kicker? I got fifteen of those loaded up and ready to go. All I gotta do to ready the next one," he said before cycling the action again, "Is that."

A look of comprehension came over Lyreen's face, "You do not need to fumble about with a quiver in the heat of battle. But why have the wood?" she wondered aloud, looking at it closely before she spoke again, "Ah, that shape! It is so you can press it against your shoulder!" Walker nodded, shouldering the weapon in silent demonstration. "I have another question. In your land, is that the sort of weapon a woman might use?"

"Well, not this one, this one is mine," replied Walker, giving the gun an affectionate pat, collecting the two rounds he had ejected and placing them back into the tube magazine. "But generally? Even I've heard of Annie Oakley, a gal who's a good enough shot to make me wary." Setting the rifle back down, Walker scrutinized Lyreen, "What are you getting at?"

Lyreen lowered her eyes, "I am not a warrior," admitted the girl, "I cannot swing a sword, or axe. I have never used a bow." Taking a deep breath, the teenager looked up and met his gaze, fire burning in her eyes. "I wish to take my pound of flesh when the time comes."

"I'm sure Calamity Dame could teach ya' Lyreen, she's pretty good with those sorts of things," he drawled back. That answer clearly wasn't satisfactory by the way she looked away, frown taking hold of her lips as she did. Walker grimaced, understanding the frustration, Sonja was truly a 'Warrior Woman' if there ever was one, as tall as he and stronger too. By contrast, Lyreen was not, she was petite, more girl than woman, with no hope of wielding a sword with the same grace and power as the Hyrkanian. The use of a bow was something Walker knew little, he preferred his irons, but he had tried his hand once or twice, and always come away with a respect for the Comanche who had mastered the weapon.

"What is a 'Calamity Dame'?" asked Lyreen curiously. "What does it mean? Is it a term of endearment? An insult?"

"Bit of both," replied Walker, "It's just how I view Sonja but… and what I say stays between us, okay?" He waited for her nod before continuing, "All 'dame' is, really, is another word for woman. A 'calamity' is a disaster. What that means is that Sonja is a woman that causes disaster," explained Walker with a shrug, "It fits I think."

Lyreen scoffed, but didn't refute Walker. Watching him from the decaying log as he stood up and went to his horse, pulling out the other long gun stored on the saddle. Cracking open the double barreled shotgun, the Bounty Hunter removed the two shells before carrying the weapon back to the campfire. "Now girl," he said, drawing her attention back to him, "I'm quite attached to that Winchester, but this coach gun is jo-fired simple, perfect for a greenhorn. So listen close and listen good Lyreen, what I'm about to tell you will probably save your life."

With the small doe slung over her shoulders, Sonja returned to the camp that had been setup so that her kill could be prepared for the groups evening meal. Descending a slight slope to where the campfire burned in the night, the Hyrkanian could see the silhouettes of both her traveling companions seated around it. She could see that Walker was holding one of his fascinating weapons in his hands while Lyreen was watching with rapt attention.

Upon getting closer, she could hear Walker's laid back drawl, "That's about all there is to it, really. You think you can handle that?"

The younger girl nodded, "I will," she assured.

"Atta girl, here, get a feel for it," instructed the Bounty Hunter as he passed her the strange weapon, this one having two 'barrels' situated side by side. The man then turned to the swordswoman, "Welcome back Calamity Dame, you need some help with that?"

With a bit of effort, Sonja got her kill off her shoulders and onto the ground, "That is quite alright, you continue your lessons. It is likely that Lyreen will need them very soon." With that, the Hyrkanian crouched down and drew her dagger.

"At least let me give you something to help you out," insisted the Bounty Hunter as he unclipped a leather sheath from his belt and tossed it towards Sonja. Catching it, the woman pulled out the blade and admired it in the campfire light. It was long, over nine inches, and extremely well crafted, without any hint of imperfection in the steel, despite the unusual shape where the tip was below the spine, with a curve cutting into the blade above it. The experienced Swordswoman could easily understand the design, allowing for a good stabbing point while keeping a large edge to cut and slice. However, while this knife would be ideal for skinning game, the cross-guard between the blade and handle marked this as a fighting knife.

A part of Sonja's mind wondered what kind of swords could be made by the craftsmen that had produced this knife. "Thank you, this is a fine blade Joshua Walker," replied the redheaded woman. Walker nodded before Sonja set to work skinning the creature, pressing the borrowed blade into the flesh of the deer and cutting through the skin with ease.

The set of well practiced motions that followed brought back memories that Sonja had been struggling to suppress for most for the day. But with something to keep her hands occupied, Sonja's mind wandered of its own volition, picturing the woman who had taught her how to do the task she was now undertaking the first time she had ever held a blade. So enraptured in her own mind was the Hyrkanian, that she didn't notice the Bounty Hunter had moved beside her until he sat down.

Sonja looked at Walker then whipped her head around to see Lyreen practicing with the weapon the Gunfighter had been showing her earlier some distance away. "Something is bothering you Sonja, I don't think much gets under your skin," drawled the Bounty Hunter as he pulled out one of his 'cigarillos' and put it in his mouth. "If you need to get something off your chest, go right ahead. I want you to have a clear mind tomorrow."

Taking a breath, Sonja gritted her teeth and replied, "I am alright."

"Bullshit," returned Walker with surprising forcefulness. "You haven't been alright since we came across that homestead this morning. I know it was bad, but I don't think that is all there is to it. Call it a gut feeling." The man took a drag on his tobacco as Sonja faced him, "If you don't wannta talk, I ain't gonna make you, just figured I'd give you the option."

Sonja fell still for a time, the debate ongoing inside herself even as her hands continued to work on the kill. It was only when she noticed Walker shift like he was preparing to leave that Sonja's mind suddenly came to a decision, and she spoke. "It was six winters past, when I was a girl of seven and ten," began the redhead, taking a breath before continuing. "My father had shown me the ways of our people, taught me how we hunt, to respect and honor the land. I killed a deer not unlike this one," recalled Sonja as she began to gut the creature. "He told me that life is a circle, life consumes life. The death of one thing is the birth of another. To treat life, all life, as a gift."

"It was the last day he would live."

The memory caused a tear to roll own Sonja's face, but as she wiped it away, Walker didn't notice or, more likely, chose not to comment as he silently worked on his cigarillo. "We were returning home when we were set upon by bandits on horseback. He told me to run, and I did, but not before I watched him get cut down before me." It was a struggle for Sonja to keep her breathing and hands steady, but she forced herself to as she told her tale. "I remember running through the woods, going back to my home not all that different from the one we found. I don't remember how far I made it before they stopped me and…and…."

Sonja couldn't bring herself to recount what happened next as she felt her whole body shake and finally broke. The knife slipped from her fingers as the redhead buried her face in her blood-stained hands and let out a heaving sob, the world around her descended into irrelevance for the next few minutes as her mind rehashed what happened to Sonja. "They…they just left me there… to die… alone in those woods," she said through pained breaths, her eyes as red as her hair. "I almost did… they nearly broke me, but I pressed on and… I…I eventually got back to my home."

Pausing, the Hyrkanian turned to look at Walker, who had been silent the whole time. The man didn't seem to be bothered, simply puffing on his cigarillo, but a closer inspection revealed a clenched fist, hidden in the gathering darkness.

Taking a deep breath, relieved for some reason that Walker was listening, the Swordswoman continued. "I was a sorry sight, but seeing what had been done to my home nearly broke me again. My entire family was dead, our home destroyed. The sight of my mother, who had suffered the same fate as I, was cruelty the likes of which I never could have imagined before seeing that day. My brothers tried to fight, but were cut down like my father, left to rot and be food for vultures."

With renewed resolve, the Hyrkanian steadied herself as she took the knife back in her hand. "It was at that juncture that I made a vow, that I would make it right, fight against what had happened for as long as I breathed, hunting all the evil in the world, and killing it." Sonja's hand, steady once more, cut into the flesh of the deer, "That was the first time I took up a blade to wield against man. There was a bandit, wounded, but still alive, left behind by the others. I picked up his sword and used it to cleave his head off, despite my weakness. I remember his screams, begging for his wretched life as I did it, but when I did, it set me on the path I remain on to this day."

"God damn Calamity Dame," breathed Walker lowly before taking another drag, "I knew you were tough but… god damn." The Bounty Hunter pulled the cigarillo from his mouth and dropped it onto the sand, stamping it out with his boot before turning to face Sona, "Hey, I'm sorry I asked. I never meant to… well it's a little bit late for that."

"Do not worry, it is just that I have never told anyone that before. The story of my family, me, being attacked by men who swore their allegiance to Kulan Gath. Men who carried amulets like the one you found," Sonja said, nodding towards the ruby embellished stone carving in Walker's pocket. "From then on, I knew the face of the enemy. Anyone who carried one of those would fall to my blade. But I would not be alone."

Walker cocked his head, until Sonja elaborated. "The red goddess, Scathach, heard my vow, my cries of anguish, and came to me. On that day, Sonja died, and Red Sonja was born. The day I buried my family I was blessed with a new mother, who remade me in her image of vengeance."

Closing her eyes, Sonja could recall the exact words Scathach said to her on that day, "She appeared before me, shining in her divine brilliance, and said to me: 'You are not alone, your tears have been cried a thousand times by a thousand women. I have heard their cries, felt their pain, seen their scars for far… far too long. Now they shall have a champion with a with a blade in her hands. That champion shall be you, young Sonja. You will give voice to their suffering. Your blade shall be the one of vengeance, of justice, as red as blood.'" Opening her eyes, Sonja went back to work, shoveling out some of the entrails of the kill before speaking again. "And then she tasked me with three trials. The first was to face my fear of death, to find the face of the enemy I was to destroy. Then I had to ascend a mountain, where I would find two lotus flowers, one black, one white. One would cure my mind of the pain I had suffered, and I would be found by a loving family, the other would preserve the fire of the warrior burning in my heart. Once I had descended the mountain, I was to enter a cave where a great serpent slumbered. My task was to kiss it but if I feared it, it would bite me, and I would die."

"There was no shred of doubt in my mind that I would succeed," recalled the Hyrkanian, "There could not be. I set off after the bandits, tracking them as my father had taught me, living off the land. For three days, I stalked them like prey, for three days, I crept through the undergrowth and climbed across limbs. When the sun set, I slew the first. By the time the sun rose, they all lay dead by my blade or arrows."

"It took me a week to reach the mountain, and just as long to ascend it, wrapped in whatever furs nature provided to me to ward off the cold. At the top, I found two flowers, just as the goddess said I would. Each would take me on a different path, and I did not know which was which. I could have chosen the white lotus, it was the color of the goddess, but it was also the color of the day, of peace. And so I chose the black lotus, for it was the color of knowledge, as knowledge comes from dreams in the night. There are many things known in daylight, but they are soft and safe, and, deep down, I knew I would have to walk the unknown path."

"The lotus put me to sleep, and as I felt my eyes grow heavy, I feared for a moment, that I had erred. When I woke, however, there was not love in my breast, but rage that warmed me on that cold mountain, and sustained me as I descended it. I followed the rules of nature, and let it guide me safely down to the caves at the bottom. What followed next is something I cannot put words to, only that I could feel the hand of the goddess guide me to the cave where my trial awaited me."

"The snake?" asked Walker.

"Aye," affirmed Sonja, "But to call the creature that awaited me a 'snake' would not do it justice. Its body was as thick as that of a horse, and many times longer than you are tall. If it were to wake, it would swallow me whole." Finally satisfied that her kill was prepared, Sonja cut off a slab of meat and put it in the pan Walker had with him. Holding it over the fire to cook, the Hyrkanian looked at the Gunslinger, who was no longer making an effort to hide his interest. "There is a Hyrkanian mantra, said amongst our warriors. 'Blood is not to be feared but understood. Do not hesitate at death, but inhale it and drink in the beginning and end of all life.' Though I must confess, for a moment I felt doubt creep upon me, stalking me like I did those bandits. When faced with that creature, I could not fear death, and in that moment I became death. It was at that very moment that the serpent awoke at stared me down, but I stood strong against the blank gaze of its black eyes as it came closer. When its forked tongue came from its mouth and into my reach, I kissed it, just as my goddess instructed me."

"She didn't exactly make it easy for you," drawled Walker, the way his boot tapped the ground, causing the odd metal attachment to spin with each impact.

Sonja managed a weak smile through the storm of emotions, concentrating on passing him the pan and cutting off the next piece. "She rescued me from the maw of the serpent and gave me her blessings. When I woke, I found that she had transformed my body in the same way my mind had been transformed, I now looked like this," she motioned to her body. "I had strength and speed to rival that of any man, and my skills with a blade far exceeded my first feeble attempts with one. But my will, my spirit, remain my own. They were not changed."

"And that's what's kept you alive I'm guessin?" asked the Bounty Hunter. "I've seen good fighters die like that," he said, snapping his fingers he shook his head, "All because they hesitated. And what you just told me? It explains why you never do." Walker then removed the pan from over the fire and let Sonja add her second piece of venison. "It also explains how you were able to beat the shit out of me when we first met," he drawled, but his smirk and the way he gingerly touched the spot on his face that still showed faint hints of the bruise Sonja had given him.

A shared chuckle served to ease the tension as they focused on readying their evening meal. Some time later, Walker spoke again, breaking the silence, "If you don't mind me asking, I do have one other question Sonja."

"No, I do not mind," she replied, "I have never told anyone of this before, it is… good to share. What is your question?"

"Well, now I got an idea of where you came from, where your strength and speed came from, but one thing you haven't spoke of is… uh, where your outfit came from." Sonja looked at the Bounty Hunter and met his eyes, searching for his motivations. His blue eyes were focused on her face, missing lust's telltale glint; it seemed curiosity alone had motivated that question, so far as she could tell. "I'm sorry if I'm pushing you too far, just curious," said Walker with a shrug, downplaying his question.

Sonja sat back, pondering the question as she looked up at the stars, watching the thin clouds pass by the nearly full moon. "Some have questioned why I bother wearing armor at all, since I wear so little of it, but I never meant for it to be armor at all really. I saw another woman wear a similar outfit, and the attention she drew from men allowed her to pick their pockets without being noticed. So I fashioned this to distract men in a fight, to entice them to watch my body more closely than they would watch my blade. But over time, it has done more than that, it has enticed those who would force themselves upon a woman, making me a siren who lures sailors to their deaths. I use my body to call such men to meet their ends at the end of my blade."

"I uh… fair enough," responded Walker, noticeably averting his eyes.

But the Hyrkanian wasn't through, moving closer to the Bounty Hunter. "Perhaps there is another reason," she mused idly. Having relaxed more than at almost any point in the last six years, Sonja spoke more freely than she herself expected, "Perhaps I do wish for the attention that woman had, since I have sworn not lay with a man who did not best me, for if I was to become the blade, no man could have me if he was not worthy. Maybe one day I will come across one who is and then…" she said, suddenly coming to a stop as she turned to see Walker staring at her with the same wide eyed expression she imagined she was giving him.

Only then did Sonja become aware of just how close they were to one another, and both moved away simultaneously, putting themselves at a respectful distance as they stared at one another. "Is supper ready yet?" shouted Lyreen as she approached, "I'm starving."

"Ye… yeah," returned the Bounty Hunter, pulling the pan off the fire, "First helping is ready. So eat up little lady, then turn in. We'll be moving at dawn."

The Bounty Hunter than distributed the food, offering some to Lyreen and Sonja before the Hyrkanian cut off another chunk and put it into the pan. "What about you Joshua?" asked the younger girl.

"I'll take first watch, kill anyone who gets close to you," he replied before looking at the redheaded swordswoman, "Both of you."

"And what will happen when you get tired?" asked Lyreen after swallowing a bite.

"Then he will wake me, and I will do the same," replied Sonja, "And together we will ensure that no harm comes to you young one." For some reason, that felt right for her to say.

Closing Notes: Well, hopefully those of you who were wondering what Sonja's backstory would be, hopefully your questions are answered. I'm not going to say I am super happy, because it is just a big exposition dump, but as far as exposition dumps go, I think it is a good one.

I made it by the end of the month... just. I'll try to keep it up but I'm not going to make any promises as life spools back up after the holidays. Here's to us, those who survived 2021, and now await 2022.

I'll see you all at the end of January, until then, Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.