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Die Shize

The Beggar's King

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Aine swept into the hall not a moment after Vadrian had spoken, loaded down like a packhorse with her bags. Her expression was as stony as the floor under her feet, her eyes bright with a challenge as she strode over to the pair of men. She looked Malien in the eye for a long moment, issuing a wolf-like challenge, before turning to her husband. “When are we to leave, Vadrian? I am fully equipped and ready to depart.” She shifted her bags on her shoulders, carrying them with ease despite their apparent weight. Living in and among trees tended to be good for upper body strength, and she wasn’t shy about showing that off. She was strong, she was capable, and if any of her husband’s men had any commentary on her presence they’d quickly see who the true Wolf of Dawnwood was. Vadrian may have borne the helm, but it was she who had teeth and fur in her heart.

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