Chapter 2

Anya's war paint was dark and fresh upon her face. She rode on her favorite battle horse, leading her people through the woods. There were reports of Azgeda raiding parties in the area. Anya thirsted for their blood. They were getting bolder if they thought they could enter Trikru land. She would not stand for it. Blood must have blood.

She smelled it before she saw it. The smell of burning, of death. She urged her horse forward at a gallop. As she broke through the clearing, she saw the smoldering ashes of a Trikru village, all its occupants dead. Anya gasped in shock, and then the rage hit. These were her people and they had been slaughtered like animals in their sleep. Azgeda will pay, she resolved.

"Check them all!" Anya commanded. "Look for any survivors."

Anya climbed down from her horse. Everything was worse from this angle. The faces of the dead stared up at her, accusing. Where were you? Why didn't you save us? She didn't let her emotions show though. She must remain strong for her warriors. Nothing pierced her armor.

She approached the body of a child, draped over who Anya presumed was the child's mother. Anya reached down to turn the girl over. As she did, she saw a flash of silver as a knife was pressed to her throat. The girl was alive! And she was a fighter.

Anya smirked. "What have we here?" she asked, as she expertly pivoted around and grabbed the knife from the girl's hands. "What's your name?"

The girl stared back at her defiantly. "I am Lexa kom Trikru, and I will have my revenge."

Anya nodded approvingly at the girl. "I am Anya kom Trikru," she replied, "and yes, you will."

A look of understanding passed between them. Lexa felt a glimmer of hope begin to rise up in her and she stood to clasp arms with her rescuer.

"Lexa kom Trikru," Anya began, "You will be my second. I will make you a warrior and give you the strength to avenge your family."

"Jus drein jus daun," Lexa said. Blood must have blood.

She's a spirited one, Anya mused. "Jus drein jus daun," she replied.

As was Trikru custom, they burned the dead. Anya's warriors built the funeral pyre. When it was time to light it, Anya passed the torch to Lexa. Wordlessly, Lexa took the proffered torch and lit the pyre, watching her past burn with the bodies of her people. She was no longer the carefree little girl who lived in the idyllic village. She was on a different path now, a warrior's path, and she knew the way would be dangerous.