Ask On the Wings of Krows

Song Wren · Jul 4, 2021

Song crouched low among the underbrush. Pine needles prickled her armor, and the snow-capped trees above her head loomed in the deep silence of Krownest’s eternal winter. A pair of binoculars in hand, she stared out to the encampment waiting near the foot of the mountain, studying the guards posted about. Once finished, she set them down and cast a glance over her shoulder to Minerva.

“I count at least twenty men, not including Tyre and whoever he has guarding his tent.” She unholstered the polished blaster on her side, checking the safety and cocking the hammer back for safe measure. “I hope you’re hungry, because this should be a piece of cake.”

It was the truth. They were both Mandalorians. Both of Clan Wren. They’d been trained for dealing with everything between outsiders and mountain-dwelling monsters. Song had been no more than ten years old when she was tossed into her first hunt, and when she earned her first kill: a silver-white wolf. The deed had been bloody, gifting her a small scar on her right leg, but it had taught her plenty about the world and the rest of the galaxy.

You either learned to fight, or you learned to die.

Song moved carefully toward the clearing by the mountainside. Under the orders of her father, Count Ghent Wren, she and Minerva had elected to hunt down a band of marauders that had taken refuge in the eastern wilds. They’d been told the men were armed to the teeth, and led by a former Mandalorian by the name of Tyre. Once hailing from the Clan Kryze, he’d since broken away from his kin and built himself the status of a warlord. A pirate. Clan Wren only saw him as a thug.

Still, the old Kryze had plenty of history. He was a legend, having fought both Jedi and Sith and lived to tell the tale. Word had it that he even managed to get a hit on a Darth, taking both his lightsaber and his head as proof. It didn’t matter if reports estimated he was nearing his eighties. If the Mandalorian could still wield a sword or a blaster, he’d still have twice the experience of Song and Minerva combined.

They would have to be careful for what lay ahead.

@Minuteman75

Minerva Wren · Jul 4, 2021

Crouching beside Song, the other armored warrior waited beside her charge. Through the t-visor Minerva looked down at the foot of the mountain. There the glow of the campfire burned in an orange like light. Scowling and eyes narrowing Minerva tightened the grip on the blaster rifle she held.

Their very presence here enraged her. Hearing Song’s voice snapped Minerva’s focus away from their targets. Glancing back at her fellow warrior she nodded in acknowledgment even as a sliver-white wolf howled miles away north of them. Switching off the safety on her blaster Minerva remarked.

“Good, let’s not keep our uninvited guests waiting.”

Subsequently she followed close behind Song onto the mountainside. If it wasn’t for the situation Minerva would’ve taken a moment to admire Wren’s ancestral homeland. She had not been raised here but embraced it nonetheless. Armand and most of the clan had accepted her and remained forever grateful for that.

Now I’m fighting beside his long lost cousin and the Count’s daughter no less. Armand told me much about his time with her and River. He missed them both...when he still lived.

She had many questions for Song but knew this wasn’t the time nor place for it. As the pair continued on their path Minerva did however, asked in a whisper.

“So what’s the plan? I mean beside the obvious.”

While the widowed fighter had no love for these marauders, even she knew it would be folly to underestimate a hardened veteran like their leader Trye.

@Feng Mian

Song Wren · Jul 5, 2021

“Lovely idea,” said Song. Uninvited guests was a fine way to put it. These men were trespassers, outside invaders, and Clan Wren would not see their sacred mountains spoiled by their presence. She and Minerva would see that the marauders regretted choosing Krownest to establish their little operation.

“Okay, the plan’s simple. Sneak in, kill Tyre, then do the same to everyone else. Sound straightforward enough?” She eyed the large tent the old Kryze was staying in, wondering what dangers it might contain. “Tyre is an experienced field commander. If we strike his men first, we’d be giving him an opportunity to run. Worse, he might rally his soldiers and coordinate them into something of an actual threat.”

“Now, I’m always up for a challenge, but we’ve got to play this smart. If we can get Tyre out of the picture, the rest should follow.” Song checked the knives on her belt and up her sleeve, just in case. The blaster in her hand was a precaution, a last resort, because using it too soon would alert Tyre and the whole encampment. To make it to his tent, she’d have to be careful.

Song murmured, “Never been a fan of stealthy missions, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything.” With that, she rose out of the shrubbery and stalked toward the enemy camp. Firelight winked ahead, shimmering in the snow, but with the cold night on her side, nobody would see her coming. Those that did, however, would find themselves too late.

The first guard who caught her eye, a Quarren posted on the farthest edge of the perimeter, had opened his tentacled mouth to shout for help before Song had a knife plunged into his throat. He gargled blood, then fell silent. She let him down into the snow as if it was a pillow and he was only taking a short nap. As for the second guard the Quarren was with, she would leave them for Minerva to handle. Admittedly, she was interested in seeing how well the great Lady Fhirdiad worked in the field.

@Minuteman75

Minerva Wren · Jul 5, 2021

“Cut off the head of the Wampa. Let’s do it.” Minerva said upon hearing the plan. It was a sound strategy she admitted. Assuming they can actually carry it out effectively.

She put up the blaster rifle for the time being. Stealth was the key after all just like Song pointed out. “If you’re really looking for a challenge I’m up for some sparring later when we get back home.” There was no threat in Minerva’s tone, just a competitive offer. The former founding likes to test herself and others.

The wind began to blow loudly while the duo crept toward the camp. It was as if nature was assisting them, deafening their footsteps further. Reaching the other edge of the tents Minerva didn’t waste time watching Song kill the Quarren sentry going after his Weequay partner at the same time.

The other guard a few feet away from Song on the left spotted her killing his parnter. But before he could even say anything Minerva grabbed his head with both hands. Instantly she snapped the marauder’s neck, silently him forever. Gently laying her now dead enemy down to the snow. Glancing back to the Count’s daughter Minerva nodded.

She was ready to continue on.

@Feng Mian

Song Wren · Jul 5, 2021

“I wouldn’t mind a good sparring after tonight,” said Song, before they plunged toward the encampment. “I just hope you enjoy losing, Lady Fhirdiad, because I don’t go down easy.”

A joke. She had a feeling Minerva—as she went by—had plenty more experience in hand-to-hand combat. Song could snipe a target from a mile off, but she was unpracticed and unused to her new armor. Years of bounty hunting across the galaxy might have given her a fast hand and a good eye, but when she’d abandoned Clan Wren, she had left behind her father’s training, too.

Obviously, none of that meant she was without skill. The guard at her back would say as much—if he didn’t have a pulsing wound in his neck. “Let’s move,” she murmured, sweeping a blanket of snow over the corpse. The permafrost could have him.

She snuck forward into the camp, taking great care to stay melded in the shadows. So much as a flicker of light could expose her armor to the cluster of men nearby. Fortunately, they were busy downing spirits and drinking themselves into a stupor. It seemed their most recent outing, a raid on a Wren supply ship, had earned them a good deal of plunder. Song restrained a scowl.

Whatever it was they stole, she and Minerva would make them pay for every breadcrumb and every drop of wine in blood.

Once the pair of them had passed safely through to Tyre’s tent, she spotted another two guards by the entrance flap. Each had a large rifle slung in their hands. Song would have happily done them in on her own, but she would give Minerva the honors.

“All yours,” she said with the bob of her head.

@Minuteman75

Minerva Wren · Jul 5, 2021

Following Song’s example and quickly burying her dead enemy in snow Minerva then moved out. In the back of her mind she thought with a grin. Being away from the clan hadn’t softened her. Then again I should know I roamed the galaxy as well before meeting Armand.

From what Minerva noted Song was capable and competent so far. Of course she was still surprised that Count Ghent accepted her back seemly with open arms. He isn’t exactly known to be a forgiving man. Another question to be answered later Minerva quietly concluded.

Navigating through the tents behind her sister in arms Minerva can hear their enemies celebrating. Gritting her teeth she fought the strong urge to spring up and start shooting Lady Fhirdiad pressed on.

Their judgment will come soon.

Once they were at Trye’s tent Minerva spotted the pair of guards at the entrance flap. Oh the dar’manda fancy himself a worthy chieftain. Makes me sick. Subsequently Song whispered and gestured for her to end them.

Aiming one of her gauntlets Minerva fired a poison dart that struck the left guard in the neck. The man gagged as he dropped to his knees and his fellow turned to see what was wrong but Minerva sprang up behind before stabbing with a hidden blade through the back of the human’s neck. The latter managed to mutter a soft grunt before dying followed by his partner who now slumped side ways, the poison had done its work.

Quickly she signaled Song to go inside now.

@Feng Mian

Song Wren · Jul 10, 2021

Minerva was quick about her business. In the blink of an eye, she had both men dead in the snow, limp corpses left for the winter to claim. It was impressive. Minerva was not the young mother of three Song imagined her being. This was Lady Fhirdiad, the great winter bear of Krownest and the vengeful widow of Armand Wren, her cousin. She was about as Mandalorian as they’d come.

“Nice work,” she said with a nod.

Song opened the tent flap. The wind and snow at her back, she stepped inside with her knife raised to her chest, ready to strike at anything that moved in the shadows of Tyre’s pavilion. She’d half-expected there to be an ambush, a bevy of guards waiting for her and Minerva, but there was nothing. Only silence. Lanterns burned low, bathing the room in warmth and light—including old man Tyre, lying on a bed in the corner.

He was practically dead already when she found him.

His arms were laden with IVs and pumps. A heart monitor paged beside him at a steady rate. An oxygen mask sat over his mouth and, even from across the room, Song could tell his breathing was sickly. He was dying. She shouldn’t have been surprised, not when the reports had said he was nearing his eighties, but suddenly she wasn’t quite sure about what to do next.

This was not the dangerous veteran she’d come to expect. This was a defenseless husk of a Mandalorian confined to their bed.

Tyre blinked as he recognized them, creasing the wrinkles on his face. His voice was frail, almost mechanical. “You must be Clan Wren,” he rasped through his mask. “Have you come to kill me? Because I’m afraid there’s not much of me left.”

@Minuteman75

Minerva Wren · Jul 10, 2021

The hidden blade retracted back into Minerva’s gauntlet. She said in nothing as Song praised her work, occupied with scanning their surroundings. All it can take is someone to spot them right here and the alarm will sound off. Fortunately she saw no one else but stood sentry allowing Song to go in first. Satisfied with no witnesses present Minerva followed her vod into the tent.

As soon as she did, the widow paused. This was not what she had expected. Tilting her head she examined the dying warlord in bed. He won’t last the night at any rate. Hearing the old man’s words Minerva scowled in disgust underneath the helmet.

“Your condition earns you no pity from me dar’manda. Not after what you and your band of Aruetii had done.” Lady Fhiardid spat in a voice laced with venom. Subsequently she raised her other gauntlet, intending to burn what’s left of him alive. Yet Minerva paused as realization came to her.

“It’s a wonder that any of your subordinates haven’t suffocated you yet to take command. So dar’manda why is that? Don’t tell us those thieving womp rats are that loyal to you.”

@Feng Mian

Song Wren · Jul 15, 2021

She watched unflinchingly as Minerva raised her flamethrower gauntlet. Lady Fhirdiad was fully prepared to roast the old man in his bed, and if that wasn’t proof of her devotion to Clan Wren, then Song didn’t know what was. Still, it made no difference.

Song made no sound of protest. No objection. Whatever would happen next, she would accept it without judgment.

But she could not deny the slight feeling of relief when Minerva lowered her weapon. It wasn’t like Song had any pity for the dying Kryze—certainly not—but to burn alive a defenseless man? There had to be a line somewhere. Perhaps it was just her mother’s ridiculous compassion talking, but as someone who’d once left Clan Wren, Song could relate to the old man’s shame in exile.

“Call me dar’manda all you like,” said the old man. “I may be weak, but that does not change the hundreds of battles I’ve lived and the lives I’ve taken.” He removed his oxygen mask, and the mechanical sound of his voice was replaced by one much stronger. The voice of a soldier. “My men are loyal because they know respect. They value experience. More importantly, they value their lives.”

“We do what we must to survive. The galaxy is a cold, unforgiving place. There is no room for the exiled and the weak.” There was a new fire in the old man’s eyes as he stared Minerva down. “But from what I’ve seen, Clan Wren has done well for itself. While the rest of Mandalore scrounge about as bounty hunters, or as nomads on barren wastelands, you enjoy the freedom of this world, untouched by the old Empire.”

Song grimaced. None of what the old man said was wrong, but it was an unfair assumption. Clan Wren had suffered during the Great Purge, too. Even if their ancestral home had not been glassed by the Empire, many lives still had been lost.

But as if the man could read her thoughts, he shook his head. “Your clan has stayed isolated for centuries while Mandalore suffers alone. It is only fair that me and my band of ‘aruetti’ enjoy a taste of your spoils, a share of supplies that you have selfishly hoarded for years.”

@Minuteman75

Minerva Wren · Jul 15, 2021

Underneath the helmet Minerva’s eyes narrowed at the defiant warlord. This dar’manda scum dares to lecture us?! My husband was tortured to death by those similar to his raiders. Without warning her hidden blade came out from one of the gauntlets. She intended to cut out his hypocrite tongue then the head next.

Just as Minerva was about to rush forward to carry out her deadly intent she stopped herself after the first two steps. Eyes widening inside the helm the widow suddenly threw her head back and laughed. Retracting the blade back into the gauntlet Minerva then remarked.

“You almost had me there.” Sparing a glance back to Song she explained. “This rotten thug actually wants us to kill him.”

Turning back to Tyre.

“You’re so desperate for a worthy end to this miserable existence that you have kept your band lingering here for our clan to find. Those idiots out there have no idea that they’re all being sacrificed for a death wish.”

@Feng Mian

Song Wren · Jul 18, 2021

Song had grown tired of the old man’s ramblings. Although she sympathized with him and pitied his current state, she was done being lectured. Smother his hearth and let him freeze, she thought. Tyre may have once been a great warrior of Clan Kryze, but he was not Wren. He didn’t understand the impact his marauders were leaving. Families, men and women of Mandalorian stock, would starve all because of some old man’s personal vendetta.

No, it was worse than that. It was all for a death wish.

As Minerva stepped away from the bed, Song could see disappointment flash across Tyre’s face, and as the older Wren explained, finally she understood. This wasn’t simply done out of spite or a petty grudge. The old man was afraid. For most Mandalorians, the idea of dying sickly and old was next to torment. But to die in battle—that was a different story.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Song continued, “All these men. Your whole operation. It’s just one, painfully long suicide note. You were looking for a glorious end to this godsforsaken state of existence.” She should been disgusted—upset, even—but she only pitied the man who wanted nothing more than an end to his suffering.

Tyre slumped into his sheets. While his eyes had sank into their sockets, Song could see the anger in them, the rage. Minerva hadn’t only robbed him of a good death, she’d exposed him. Song could only imagine his humiliation.

And yet, the old man didn’t speak his fury. He only sighed. “I won’t deny it. I have long waited to break free from this straitjacket of old age. I had hoped you would help me, Lady Fhirdiad, but I see you share no respect for your elders. Disappointing, but I should not be surprised. As the saying goes—“

“—if you want something done right, do it yourself.” Both of his hands slid out from under the sheets to reveal a pair of thermal detonators. They’d already been activated.

“Minerva!” Song shouted, and as her heart thundered in her chest, so did the rest of the room.

@Minuteman75

Minerva Wren · Jul 20, 2021

Seeing the thermal detonators in the dying man’s hands Minerva swore in Mand’oa. Acting on instinct she turned and activated her jetpack. Flying forth Lady Fhirdiad aimed straight for Song. Immediately she tackled her by the waist just as the detonators ignited into a furious blast. The pair burst from the tent flap, as flame and sharpal torn through most of the tent.

They crashed and slid on the snowy ground for a few feet before Minerva’s jetpack. Laying on top Minerva got off her fellow warrior. Glancing back at what’s left of the structure. She shook her head, angered at Tyre before concern came to her. Looking at her comrade next to her, Minerva quickly asked.

“Song are ya alright?”

Minerva won’t forgive herself if anything happens to Armand‘s cousin because of her.

Multiple voices in alarm shouted amongst the camp followed frantic movement. Oh right we still got that scum’s toys to deal with. Drawing her blaster rifle Minerva aimed and fired two bolts into a human wearing makeshift armor and armed with a scattergun rushed from the left side. He dropped dead in the snow while Minerva declared while getting to her feet.

“Get up vod! We’re not done yet.”

@Feng Mian

Song Wren · Jul 23, 2021

By the time Song had processed what was happening, it was too late. The thermal detonators in Tyre’s withered hands had clicked, fallen silent, and burst into brilliant white flame. The light was almost blinding. A roar thundered through the pavilion. The explosion vibrated through her beskar, screaming into her ears, just before she was lifted from her feet and carried into the air. Someone had grabbed her at the last minute.

No, it was Minerva.

The Mandalorian had reacted swiftly, rocketing them through the tent flap and back outside. Had it not been for her quick thinking, Song would have been stuck in the worst of the explosion, cooked in her own armor. Instead, she was laying out in the snow. Alive and unscathed. It was a miracle.

Song blinked, her face to the stars. A rising trail of smoke had split the night sky. What remained of Tyre’s pavilion was now a smoldering ruin, eaten up by a blaze that slowly consumed the tents around it. Men were already scrambling out in the open, guns drawn and swords flashing, shouting over the cackle of flames. All hell had broken loose.

Now, it was time to add fuel to the fire.

“No, we’re not,” she answered Minerva, climbing to her feet. Song brandished her vibroknife. “I suppose this is the part where we take out the trash?”

The moment she felt a laser bolt skim her armor, she let her weapon fly. The knife embedded itself into the chest of Twi’lek man. He fell limp into the snow, where she plucked it out and flourished the edge in the growing firelight.

They were just getting started.

But as she mowed through what marauders she could find, Song spotted a giant of a man step out into the clearing of tents. He held an enormous flail with a mace attached to the end of the chain. With a swing, the ground shook at his feet, daring both Mandalorian women to fight him. Song was tempted to take them up on the offer, but she figured Lady Fhirdiad might enjoy the challenge instead.

“All yours,” she said to her with an invisible smile.

@Minuteman75

Minerva Wren · Jul 26, 2021

Joining her kin Minerva gunned down without hesitation that came into view, weapons or not. A swift death was the only mercy they will receive from Lady Fhirdiad tonight. Like Song she quickly noted the towering man coming out of the clearing. She felt the ground shake as their enemy let his flail mace strike the soil, more or less challenging them.

Nodding in appreciation to Song letting her handle this Minerva put up her blaster and displayed her gauntlet blade. Then with a wordless battle cry she charged. The giant smirked before pulling the chain and slung the mace toward his opponent from the side. At the last second Minerva rolled forward dodging the strike but as soon as she was getting up a knee struck her in the chest.

Crashing to the ground with a hidden wince. Minerva looked up and rolled out of the way just before the mace slammed to where she was previously. On her feet again Minerva then jumped back as the flail came at her again. Grin widening the giant taunted.

“Want to use your blaster now girly? Or maybe fly in closer that little jetpack to make things again. I don’t blame ya it would fit a cowardy schutta like you and the rest of your people!”

Glaring fiercely through the helmet Minerva rushed forward. As before the challenger swung the flail and Minerva dodged again, getting closer. Subsequently the huge man was going to knee her again but Minerva was ready for him this time. Her gauntlet blade impaled itself through the left knee and the marauder cried out. Pulling the blade back the widow stabbed into his right arm earning a new pained yell from her foe followed by another as she did the same with the left limb.

Dropping the flail the bandit fell backwards with a thud. In the midst of his pain he looked up in hatred. “Burn...” Minerva coldly said, causing her foe’s eyes to widen in horror before she unleashed flames from her other wrist. Consumed in fire the marauder flailed frantically, crying in torment.

She shut him up permanently with a single blaster bolt to the head seconds later with an unholstered pistol. The raider had at least earned a quick end to his suffering however well deserved by fighting bravely Lady Fhirdiad concluded.

However, while Minerva had been occupied a Nikto and Bothan came from the right flank meters aiming their guns at the victorious Mandalorian. Only Song spotted them.

@Feng Mian

Song Wren · Jul 28, 2021

Song wished she could have stayed to watch the show, but she had other business to attend to—specifically the rest of the marauders in the camp. Those that had not already fled into the trees were now eying her dangerously, like a slice of smoked venison, another meal for them to devour. But the Mandalorian was ready for them.

She didn’t bother unholstering her blaster. Song kept it lodged on her side, along with her ensemble of knives, and instead raised both gauntleted fists toward the three men that surrounded her. They traded a few confused looks, then smirked. The men must have thought this a golden opportunity to attack an unarmed Mandalorian, a chance to take revenge on their fallen master. Let them, she thought. Let them believe they actually have a chance.

She slid one foot back and nodded. “What are we waiting for? We don’t have all night.”

That did it. All three men came at her, brandishing knives and pointed brass knuckles. One swung at her helmet. Another kicked at her ankle. Of them all, not a single blow landed. Fast as they were, Song had trained in the art of the blade and the fist. Every close quarters fight was something of a dance to her. A masquerade she’d practiced with her father since the day she could stand on two feet. And right now, standing in the snow, it was like nothing had changed.

They were on the ground in seconds.

She let the first knife swipe graze her shoulder before grabbing the man’s wrist and shattering it with her fist. He screamed, but she shut up him with another mouthful of knuckles. The next man tried to take the opportunity to trip her, but she simply jumped and cracked her heel over his shin, then her knee into his cheek. As for the last man, she just backhanded him, the way a disappointed mother would. When he tried to resist, she did it again, and again, until he too joined his brothers in the snow.

Once she was done, Song turned to Lady Fhirdiad just in time to see her set the giant on fire, finishing him with a merciful shot to the head. She smirked. Never doubted you for a second, Minerva.

But then, she spotted them. Two others, a Nikto and Bothan, came up to her right flank. Unlike with Tyre, Song didn’t try vainly to warn Minerva. She reacted. Taking the marauder’s knife and her own, she hurled them directly into their throats. The raiders doubled over, collapsing into the snow. Dead.

Song casually strode over to examine her and Minerva’s work. “I’m impressed. Clearly, they don’t call you Lady Fhirdiad for nothing.” She offered the woman a short nod, a newfound respect in her smile. She turned to look at the burning remains of the camp. “Think they’ve had enough?”

@Minuteman75

Minerva Wren · Aug 1, 2021

Twisting her helm to the side, Minerva saw her would-be killers collapsed with knives impaled on them. It didn’t take for the widow but a few seconds to realize what happened before turning to face Song who walked over. The latter praised her and nodded before asking were they done tonight.

Minerva glanced at Song silent before letting out a chuckle. Subsequently she nodded as well before taking off her helmet. “Armand claimed you were an amazing warrior with great potential to be a leader.” Gesturing to Song’s defeated foes from one end to another she added.

“My beloved was right about you Song. Manda, I wish he was here with us.”

Her eyes flashed with immense pain but yet a sense of joy then appeared as well. Bittersweet tears gently stream down her cheeks amidst the ash and snow. Remembering Song’s question Minerva then answered. “Yes we’re done here.” With that she put her helmet back on.

“Whenever you have time I know the children would love to meet their older cousin.”

Finished speaking Minerva Wren ascended via jetpack above the trees.

@Feng Mian

Song Wren · Aug 3, 2021

“Thank you, Minerva,” said Song, more than flattered by her praise. She may not have known Armand well, but she knew he was an incredible warrior, one that even Ghent, her father, prized above many others.

As Minerva slipped off her helmet, Song did the same. Before she’d been a loyal practitioner of the Way, never once revealing her identity to others, but that had changed since she found her brother’s killer. She was back home. There was no need to hide any longer.

“I wish Armand was here with us too,” she continued, her voice a low whisper as she turned to the ground. “He would be proud of you, Lady Fhirdiad.”

Song looked up to see Minerva’s eyes were wet with tears. Sorrow jabbed at her heart. She empathized with the Mandalorian, knowing the pain that came with losing a loved one, the crushing grief that always weighed on her shoulders. Song had lost River, and more recently, her mother Haliya. Both of them were now buried in the snow, once ashes on a pyre now scattered to the wind.

She wanted to reach out and take Minerva’s hand. She wanted to hug her, to remind her that everything was going to be okay, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Like most Mandalorians, she stood there, silent as the grave. The only words she could offer the grieving widow was a single proverb, one that Song’s mother had told her before she’d left Krownest: “Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.” Not gone, merely marching far away.

With that, she nodded and slid her helmet back on. “And I would love to see them,” she replied. “Thank you, Lady Fhirdiad. Ret'urcye mhi.” We will meet again.

Once goodbyes were said and Minerva had ascended through the pines and into the night sky, Song collected her knives from the ruined encampment, wiping them of blood. So much death in one night. It had been a very long time since she’d killed this many men in such a short time, and instantly she was reminded of her early bounty hunter days. Battle after battle, one massacre after the next. She sucked in a breath. There would more to come.

Using what smoldering wood remained, Song created something of a pyre. Then, dragging each broken corpse she could find, piled them together and set the whole thing ablaze. Smoke rose into the stars. It would have been easier just to let them rot, to let their bodies freeze in the permafrost, but nobody deserved such a fate. Her brother would agree.

If only he was there to see her now.

end of thread.

Ask On the Wings of Krows

Song Wren

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Minerva Wren

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Song Wren

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Minerva Wren

Character

Song Wren

Character

Minerva Wren

Character

Song Wren

Character

Minerva Wren

Character

Song Wren

Character

Minerva Wren

Character

Song Wren

Character

Minerva Wren

Character

Song Wren

Character

Minerva Wren

Character

Song Wren

Character

Minerva Wren

Character

Song Wren

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