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“A warrior…” Lupa repeated.

It felt so strange for someone to call her that. She was the bottom of the pack, liked by few people, driven by revenge and anger. Not noble, not powerful.

“I am no warrior. Many would say I’m a scoundrel. They encountered me in a squabble with some soldiers in the street. I don’t know what they saw in me…maybe it was my passion or hunger. Certainly not my obnoxious manner.” she frowned thoughtfully. “They just said to be ready and the next day sent someone to my door. He asked me some questions and told me to leave everything and come with him.”

She smirked. “I know it sounds silly. But I had nothing to lose and had a thirst for change. And change we are bringing.”