warriors do not show their heart
until the axe reveals it
Beqanna had the right of it; the Sisterhood was too attached to the land itself. It was a weakness that was easily exploited by their enemies, and the former Warrior Queen had seen it firsthand. The Valley burned and burned and burned. The Chamber had been reduced to ash, and each kingdom took it in stride. Their members seemed nonplussed. When the Jungle burned, the Sisters took it personally. They were resilient, but their hearts hardened against reconciliation, turning into blackened, burnt-out husks towards the Chamber.
Emotions are real, but they are not necessarily reality. Their longing would ebb with the coastal tides, and soon a new generation would be born with a love for the cool, salty air. They would never know the feeling of a land that is a mother to them.
Perhaps it is for the best. Perhaps it will strengthen them. Or it will weaken them. Or be a non-issue.
It isn’t Lagertha’s responsibility anymore.
The gray mare is a little stronger now, having slept for days on end. Instead of summoning whomever is like-minded to talk about what they want to the do with the ‘army’ side of the Kingdom, she returns to the common lands to search for more recruits. Perhaps the shake-up had wakened more Sisters who were previously slumbering or wandering in solitude throughout the Jungle. She weaves through the trees, and the same smell that attracts Djinni attracts Lagertha. She is surprised to see the mouse-gray newcomer in attendance already, and quirks her head to the left a bit with a bemused expression.
She’s never worried about coming off as rude before, and she won’t now. Lagertha answers Djinni’s question in a roundabout way. “Sarkis. It’s been a long time.” She offers the roan woman a slight smile, and then addresses the gray mare. “Djinni, right? I noticed you at the meeting.”
Lagertha
