Spiritsong

Shadows will coil and curl around her as she walks forth in the night, nary a flicker in the corner of one’s eye, and the moonlight guides her forth. As a General, the soldiers behind her mimic her every move- they know to trust her sure steps and carefully chosen paths.

For when the sun sets behind the horizon, she’s the one that leads them onto the battlefield.

The song of war rings through her heart, a somber melody few can appreciate, and she knows battle like most dragons know the back of their claws. Each life lost is one to be mourned, but every foe struck down is one less trying to stab her in the back. A battle to the death is as turbulent and wicked as the restless, gnawing desire for victory she’s known as long as she can recall- a competitive streak so unhinged and wild the only way to manage it was to ensure she could pour her every bone into something that’d have her struggling to win with every breath.

And ensuring their continued survival, safety, and peace was meaningful, too. An honorable task. Somehow, it also became a home. She took to the life of a warrior with ease when they sent her there. Rigid structure, easy rules, a constant outlet; as close to ideal as she could ever wish for.

Everything she’d never known her soul desired.

With a competent group at her back, and a pack of bandits resting cluelessly not far off, Spiritsong inhales the crispy air of night. A touch of smoke, of lush foliage, of last night’s rain.

Soon, it is blood that will linger in the air.

She shifts, raises her claw, and the soldiers prepare. Wound tight and trembling, they all yearn for victory in the same manner she does, a thunderous thum of excitement flowing through their veins. When she lowers her arm, they all surge forward. Her soul aches, anticipation filling her to the brim, and she leaps forth into the fray.

Yes, she knows, this is where she belongs- a warrior’s soul lives within her. And it will not go unheard.