She was one woman among millions of men. She set out on her cycle to get to the mart. She had her rifle with her. And satchel. She was not headed to the mart. She was headed to the forest. She was headed to the war. Her helmet was banded around her neck and her long hair was out and flapping in the coolness of the wind.
She was courageous and strong and beautiful and she was the woman warrior of the land. She was the daughter of the warlord who fought for her land. He was a great man and she was a great woman.
She cycled out of the town and was in the woods when she heard a war cry from behind her. Her heart was pounding. She was terrified. The beast of the forest was not on her side. It was his side. It was attacking her. There was evil behind her, she was sure of it. It was not her companion of the forest.
She knew her warlord would save her. She had to get home. She was home. But she did not want to go home.
They were not the same companions. They were not kind to her. They left her at home. They did not stick with her. They had hurt her.
But she had hurt them back. She had hurt them badly. They let her get away. She had run from them all. She did not run from them at the forest. She did not run from them at the town. She did not run from them at the edge of town. She did not run from them at the forest.
The beast returned to the forest. It was a beast of the forest. She was ambushed again. In the woods. In the woods of the forest. In the woods that she kicked into quickly. In the woods that she swerved into quickly. In the woods that she drove into quickly. In the woods that she was about to drive into quickly.
Was the beast her companion of the forest. They were friends. They were lovers. They were family. They were joined. They were one.
She swerved around the beast of the forest. They had hurt her. They hurt her deep inside. They hurt her deep inside.
She was tossed. She landed against the ground. She landed on her face. There was blood. There was death. There was no life. She was no more.
She feared death. She knew death. She had seen death. Her father was her death. The beast of the forest was her death.
She was the daughter of the forest. She was the daughter of the tracks. Her tracks led to the beast. She knew the beast. She did not know the beast.
She rolled across the garden of the flowers of the forest. The flowers were yellow. She did not see yellow. The flowers were red. She did not see red. The flowers were pink. She did not see pink. The flowers were white. She did not see white.
She was not the woman warrior of the land. She was the warrior of the land. The land did not know of her. She had conquered land. She did not know of her. She had conquered earth. She did not know of her. She had conquered sky. She did not know of her. She had conquered the war. She did not know of her. She had conquered her own future. She had conquered time. She did not know of her.
She knew that she had failed. Her father was she. She was she.
She had lost her father. She was she. She was she.
She had lost her spirit. Her spirit was she. She was she.
She had lost her friend. She was she.
She had lost her lover. She was she.
She had lost her father. She was she. She was she.
She had lost her heart. She was she.
She had lost her soul. She was she.
She was she.
She was she.