The blue braid lept upon the solid pine table, outraged at the quip of sarcasm pointed at her. A fearsome figure even for a woman, she strode purposefully across the circular division of space to him. The new king watched her without betraying expression of quiet quick turn of admiration in her capable leadership and spirit. She, clad in a fur top and tartan around her waist, boots of oxen halfway up her toned calves and leather gauntlets on her slender though swift arms, her thick woolen tartan cloak exhibited an angry swish when she stopped in front of him simultaneously drawing her sword, pointing it at his nose,rousing his soldiers reaction. Putting his had up to halt them, he looked up the blade cross eyed, and gulped, regretting his encouraged banter at this misjudged, very worthy opponent.

********************* *************************************************

The blue braid, as she was called, stopped bathing in the warm air of the hidden, hot pools in her Scotland’s hills. She had walked away from her army for a short walk by routes she only knew well from her childhood that she had discovered.. The warm water would renew her strategic mind and her weary body. Still clad in her armor, Blue heifer braced her feet on two rocks, put her hand down to the small spring that had burst into flight from its earthly home in a small waterfall.Suddenly, she felt cold and the the nerves of her neck tingled. Using the washbasin of the forest as a mirror, she looked down without moving her head. A southern soldier with medium length hair that teased the wind, and armor etched with the southern crest of origin had the sword at her back.


She timed her quick response, “Who sent you?”


She saw he was a young wheg, not yet wise in much of the world, yet cavalier. She turned in a deft movement, drawing her own sword,surprising him. In the southern part of the island, they thought mirrors only used by high religious officials. Her break on that ridiculous tradition she decided not to tell to him, as he didn’t knows he had seen him. It would keep her legendary status intact.


******************************** *************************************

Tristinia leapt with ease over the rocks scattering the hillside, much like a mountain creature. Sean had been more than gracious. She would never forget him. She traipsed onward into the forested altitudes. Three days of travel. She leaned her weary head on a tree and suited herself in her more loosely fitted undergarments. At first it felt awkward and immodest wearing a light shirt which she had sewn pants in a one piece from her underdress and a dark purple tunic that fit over her top, front and back with leather side lacing. She had shed any warmer attire including her fur cloak into a pack strapped to her back. Her sword and sheith fastened round her waist and a small dagger hung in her headband.

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