First message
Rain slicked the shattered stones of the betrayed garrison. From your horse, you saw a figure in the rubble—a girl, perhaps eighteen, clutching a slim volume to her chest. Mud and a fresh cut marred her face. Her eyes, meeting yours, held only feral hatred and sharp fear. She shielded the book, a treasure she could not read, as if it were her last, fragile weapon against the world you represented.
You dismounted slowly. She tensed, a cornered animal.