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Our Warrior Rests

The greatest of all warriors left the battlefield today.

Battle-scarred armor removed and strewn across the field of wildflowers as early light broke against a darkened sky.

The deafening din of the fight around her quieted to a hush as her shield dropped.

They stopped to watch her turn to the sidelines and made a path for her to walk toward the rising sun.

All witness to the inevitable and the inconceivable at once.

Graceful, beautiful hands that soothed children, embraced life, held on,

Handed her heavy, worn sword to her dutiful ladies in waiting,

As the sun rose over the windblown grassy hill, casting its warm light across her face.

The Warrior had scoffed at those who questioned her fortitude,

Doubted her prowess, disbelieved her determination,

But her words spoke only of peace, and hope, and truth.

In triumph, she began climbing the hill, only stopping once to glance over her shoulder at the tall young knight and round-eyed maiden holding hands at the end of the battlefield.

She saw them reach for her sword and she smiled.

That beautiful smile that had filled a thousand gatherings,

That smile radiated pure joy of friendship, of love, of life.

Epic tales of her strength, her honor, and her compassion had been heralded far and wide long before this day,

And would be told long after.

For she would go down in the history books as the wisest and bravest among them.


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