The Old Forest. Taboo. Never look there. Never step there.
And yet she walked in - the water bearer.
An exception?
A glance to her resolve.
A choice.
Avoid killing. Never. No matter what.
And yet she thrust her sword at the wolf.
An exception?
A glance to his arm.
A choice.
Treasure? The Bree-folk's whimsical pass-time. Reckless.
Yet she held onto the rope. A livelihood.
An exception?
A glance to their smiles.
A choice.
The sword had never sung in her hands. Not truly. Nor has she danced with it in a long time.
Yet she unsheathed it and stood guard.
An exception?
A glance to her resting.
A choice.
A flick of ember.
A swift execution of the fell son of the Widow Wolf.
She let her hat fall and walked away.
