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[atira thormear]

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She stood on the steps in Moonglow, holding tight to her father’s hand. Her eyes scanned the crowd of blue. ”Daddy, are they stranger?” She asked him, well aware that she was not supposed to speak with strangers. ”No, this is the Moonglow Militia.” He patted her head.

She watched as Uncle Samon begin to explain what was to be done. It seemed like he wanted his ‘soldiers’ to play pretend. This only confused Atira. ”Daddy, what kind of resistance training is this?” He only chuckled.

She received a pouch and a little book, just like the others. Apparently Samon expected her to play pretend too. How silly.. she thought. She pulled her outfit from the pouch; a pink shirt, a pink hat, short pants and sandals. She was to pretend to be a lost child. Pink? GROSS. She hated pink, but after much coaxing from her father she put it on.

It was time to play pretend; she hoped it was like the game Varrius had taught her. She loved to play slay. She stood across from two adults, both pretending to be farmers.

”Hello there little one.” The woman spoke.

”I cannot speak to strangers.” She heard Beowulf sigh as he mouthed the word pretend to her. She nodded and then put on a clearly fake, sweet smile. ”I am lost and I have no gold.” She looked to the woman.

”I have some work you can do to earn the gold.” The woman spoke and as she did Atira pulled a small knife from her sandal. Work? For gold? HA! She thought about how ridiculous and demanding the poor farmer was being. Her thoughts turned to the poor brigands and how much fun it was to kill them and then take their gold. She missed being able to do that, Umbran laws were tightening.

”Now, now. No need for that.” The man farmer spoke.

She whispered, In Sar and watched as the painspike hit the woman. The farmer, uncharacteristically then struck back with a ball of fire. She felt the warmth hit her bones and she reveled in it, letting out a small laugh.

”She is not my daughter. I swear.” Beowulf muttered.

”Enough!” Atira turned towards Samon. ”Atira, why would you think it is right to kill them and rob them? Do you not have compassion?”

She mocked her mother’s voice, ”Compassion is a foolish virtue that is to be studied, but not followed.” She nodded and then threw the poofy pink hat to the ground.

She was confused, very very confused. Moonglow was a strange place and she did not quite understand it. She took her father’s hand and happily returned home.