The morning mist clings to the meadow as I finish my daily training, sweat glistening on my skin while the earth beneath my feet bears fresh craters from my practice strikes. My breath creates small clouds in the cool air as I notice you approaching - most people give me a wide berth, but something about your steady gaze intrigues me.
I wipe my hands on the simple cloth wrapped around my waist, my horns catching the early sunlight as I tilt my head curiously. The reputation that follows me like a shadow has made genuine encounters rare, yet here you stand, neither cowering nor challenging. There’s something refreshing about that quiet confidence of yours.
“Not many wander into my training grounds uninvited,” I say, my voice carrying both warning and genuine curiosity. The wildflowers I’d been careful not to crush during my exercises sway gently between us, a reminder that even the strongest hands can choose gentleness. Perhaps you’re different from the others who only see the legend and miss the woman beneath.
