Mina is a beautiful young woman in her early 20s. She always thought of herself as plain, but this was her beauty. While other girls in the larger human cities to the south would paint themselves in makeup or create ringlets of curls, Mina never had time for that. The only paint she put on her face was mud or sweat. Mina was odd and would work until she couldn't move or sleep all afternoon. She never wasted her time going to the village and loved to keep to herself, stay busy on the farm and daydream. She knew the world was an ugly hard place, and she wanted none of it.

Mina closed her eyes, dozing peacefully against a tree. Despite what had happened in the village a few days ago, her life on Mina's family farm hadn't changed. The sun was still warm as it graced her face. Mina thought it was just the right temperature for a nap, not too cold and not too hot, with the right amount of clouds to watch. Her chore this morning was to protect the sheep and walk them down towards the river for some water.

Her father came back from a town meeting last night. He smelled as if he had crawled out of a three-day-old garbage pile, which he most likely had. She mostly ran the farm now, her and her brother Alexa. Don't get Mina wrong. She loved her father, but he lost his way. Before mother had died a few winters back from fluid in her lungs, she would always say that her father had a demon on his back.

When father was drunk and feeling irate, he smacked Mina around a little. He would drink the cheap ale he created out of a rusty old still in the back 40: walking away for a few days at a time. He would come walking back late in the night, angry like there was no tomorrow. He would kick Mina in the stomach with the odd fist just for a change and laugh, saying things like, "Don't worry, I won't hit you in the face; we gotta sell you off to a good rich husband."

These memories flooded back, causing a phantom pain to come to live in her stomach, and she spat, "Bastard." She took a deep breath, pushing herself off the tree and walking over to one of the sheep, giving it one kick gently in the butt to move it forward. They walked across the field towards the waterway. Another deep breath, "In the past, Mina, you are in charge now." The abuse caused her to grow up a little more resilient and gritty than some city girl who never had to get her hands dirty. Finally, she started fighting back against her father. As her mother said, her father had a demon on his back. He used to be a handsome adventurer back in the day; mother would tell them stories. Mother claimed that is how father lost his leg, some troll in a deep cave to the south made a meal out of it. She only told her story once, when her father was in the woods for over a week.

Mina watched the sheep, "Do you ever count sheep," looking down at the Hebridean sheep at her side. Hebridean at a small black sheep breed they bought off the dwarf traders about five years back. They have short, triangular tails and two pairs of horns, but their coarse wool was great for winter clothing. It gave her a sheepish grin, "I don't think you could count to 1000."

She found her comfortable log overlooking a small part of the river that was safe for the sheep to drink from. Mina remembers her conversation with her father this morning, or should she say a yelling match this morning. What did he expect her to do? Could she not take charge and run the expedition?

It's like he didn't know her at all. She would not do that, and it sounded like way too much work. She laughed to herself, watching a sheep trip over its legs. She had more important things to do than get herself killed, like napping. Her father wanted to join that boy Jeremy and a few others in their adventure. Mina finally snapped that morning; she tightened her stance, remembering this morning's events. Remember the cracking sounds, and there were so many.

Crack! Mina's fist into the side of her father's jaw. The older man fell to the floor with a bang, his prosthetic leg shooting away from him and under the kitchen table. He had got right up into her face and spit, and that rank smell was too much. She lost her temper. She was not the little girl anymore that let her father beat her. She had grown strong and knew what she wanted. She wanted to raise some sheep and enjoy some lazy sunny days.

Looking up from the floor, "You don't understand, this is life and death for us all, and I know I am a crap father. I know I drink too much, and I let you down. But you aren't me. You aren't me, my little bug. You are strong. You can help." He looked tiny. Not that monster that would use her as a punching bag. This old thing looked more diminutive than a lamb.

"Did you know, father, that Ewes can recognize their lamb's bleat? The mother can recognize which lamb is theirs just by the sound of their calls. I am not your lamb, you can't recognize me, and I have given up too much to stay alive. Send a messenger to the king, or hell, get some adventure guild up here to deal with these Orcs." Mina screamed; this time, it was her turn to spit in rage and anger at her father, "I will not die for you. I will not die for anyone."

After countless miles of walking the land with her flock, her muscle leg pulled back, and she sent her foot cascading down into the wrinkled older man's face. The bones in his skull sent a crack against the force of her foot and the impact of the stone. Blood slowly dripped out of his nose, but a flood came rushing out as his head lay against the rock.

Mina froze. She was watching, just waiting for something—anything to happen. Mina froze. She looked out the kitchen window. It was a beautiful morning outside. She could see her favourite tree up on the hill. After a short time, the mountain was a little more significant. Mina laid back, looking like her beautiful self with dirt under her fingernails, and her back was covered in sweat. She was going to take a nap.

Sheep are highly social animals; as she sat there reliving the events of the morning in her mind as the water went by, a lamb came walking by her and butted its head against her leg. "Did you know, a little lamb, that she needs to be social? Knowing how other sheep feel is the basis for forming strong social relationships and keeping the flock safe. I read it in that book I bought off that halfling, Murphy." The lamb looked up, made a cute face, and ran off to join the other sheep. Mina smiled. It is a beautiful day; she thought as the bag went over her head.

*****

Mina woke. Her right eye was swollen shut, not that she could see anyways, there was a bag over her head, but she could hear. The voice must have been what had woken her.

"Didn't you get the letter from the master yet?" Mina was forming a picture of what this voice must belong to. It sounded weak and scared of this master. She didn't care, and she needed to get out of here. Her hands were tied behind her back, but they didn't check her person. At least not that she could tell. It hurt all over. Whatever they did to knock her out, she hadn't felt this bruise in years.

The other voice spoke; this one was full of aggression. "Oh, this letter. I might have seen it, but I am tired of this crap. If anyone asks me, I will say I haven't gotten around to reading it yet." Yes. Mina thought she could reach it. The knife she kept on her back. Slowly. Slowly, Mina, she said to herself.

"But. But. Our orders were to meet at one of the rally points and prepare for the next phase." The knife slowly cut into the ropes.

"I know what the orders are; they are in the letter, but if you want to die or whatever. I. Am. Not. Stoping. You. You saw that massive monster the higher up unleashed on that village. Those adventurers put it down, and instead of running or whatever, they headed toward the farm. Like I said. I don't wanna die for someone else's master plan. I say. I will lay low here for a few days and find some nice hole for the winter once things have settled. I will find another Warband." Speeches, great, just great; Mina loved it when pig-headed men make speeches for no point other than to hear themselves talk.

"You remember what happened to the last guy who didn't follow the orders from the keep," the smaller voice whimpered.

"They skinned him alive and then used his bones for our next soup. It was pretty good if I remember right." The rope finally cut away from her hands. She gripped the knife in her right hand. She was pushing down the pain of her bruised body.

"Did you ever wonder why he loves bones so much?"

"Same reason they call that witch or whatever the blood queen. Freaking bards.Whatever lets them tell a good story."

"Well, I have seen the aftermath of what happens to those people on the farm. I, for one, would like to stay how I am. I love killing. I might love seeing that life flicker under my blade, but at least don't do that." The smaller voice stated this was it. Mina dove forward. Knife whipping around in front of her. Success, she screams in her mind! The blade went all the way to the hilt and plunged deep into the flesh. She thought it was the big one she stabbed.

The smaller one seemed to be on the other side of wherever she was. A different yelp came. She put that thought to the side, twisted the knife and pulled with all her might. Thoughts raced through her mind as she hit down; it must be the spine. She was pulling the knife out with one hand, the other pulling the bag off. She saw her attackers, and she knew these men. They weren't the Orcs that had attacked the village.

"You killed him," the small voice screamed. Now that Mina's head wasn't in the bag, she saw the small voice for what it was. It was one of the local farm boys near the village's northeast. At the moment she couldn't remember his name. "You killed him!" At her feet was the body of a giant man. She knew this man. She saw him talking to one of the people visiting the town for the festival. She couldn't see the man's face, but blood pooled all around him, just like her father. Another scream, "You killed my father."

I have to act, Mina thought. Time froze at that moment. A small boy was standing beside her. He looked so sad. "I am sorry, Warmblood." The small boy placed a hand on her forearm. She couldn't move. "It will be quick, at least. If you hadn't acted as soon as you had." It paused. Then a hiss came out, "Sometimes neighbours are the worst monsters."

Time began again. Mina does not remember the little boy, just the screaming voice in front of her. She moves to attack: to defend her life. The knife clipped the side of the farm boy's neck, and a little boy's laugh sounded in the back of her mind. "I might not be able to save you, Warmblood, but I can ensure that this monster joins its' father." A slight chance, one in a thousand, that the knife hit the artery. For a brief moment, luck was Mina's blade. Mina smiled as blood sprayed over her. She smiled. She was free. Then paused; she heard a snapping sound coming from behind her. She turned.

An arrow landed between her breasts. A red sun began to form around the arrow shaft. She fell to the ground, dead. "I am sorry," a voice spoke. "I wasn't here to hunt you, but these traitors to the Iron Legion."

The last image she saw was a symbol of a red forge.