The soft color and smooth appearance of the girl's skin as the sun continued to rise left me momentarily mesmerized. Her movements were delicate and graceful, worthy of a real princess, but what she held in her hands was entirely different from what a princess should wield.
A large axe rested in her delicate hands, and she looked at it calmly after meticulously cleaning and polishing it with great patience.
Nearly 20 minutes had passed since we started watching her clean the axe, and it was the same yesterday morning when we observed her before we went off to train.
"Why do you want her dead?" I finally asked.
The stranger looked at me with a hint of annoyance, as if merely questioning his command was a direct challenge to his power and leadership.
"Look at what's in her hands. Do you think she's using that axe to cuddle puppies and field animals?"
