She left her country at eighteen. She faced prejudice and hate every step on the way. She'd been thrust in a war that didn't concern her. Her husband had been disfigured. She fought for her life so many times that she lost count. Laying in a hospital bed, sweaty, exhausted, bloodied, she smiled. The little cry from the new-born baby in her arms made it all worthwhile.
They would call her Victoire.