Inside her head, The Voices whisper. She reconizes The Truth behind The Words. She has spent too many years alone. Apart. She may never be free to lay down the armor she carries.
Each time She thinks She is close — She finds it is not to be. She attempts to pry the chain mail from her form without success. The weight of it is the price She has paid for engaging The Dragons who hunted her Lifetimes.
They came in many forms. The Family which abandons, Men with ill intent, Friends who betray, Grief demanding its due. With sharp claws and firey breath — they all came — The Dragons — and She has fought them as long as She could remember. There had never been Peace in Her Days.
Perhaps She should withdraw to a place of solitude. A place where The Voices will murmur no more. They are only pacified when She walks in the forest or along the sea. Nature seems to be her only source of solace. Gaia her only refuge. The Creatures her only companions.
She should have given up this nonsense as folly long ago and taken her place as Wise Woman — Warrior Queen — Lone Wolf and let all the rest fall away. There would have been peace on this Path. The struggle to be what She was not would have been done. She could have stopped pretending to be Human.
For you cannot unmake a heart which has been turned to stone. You cannot unharden steel forged in The Great Furnace.
And you cannot unsee The Dragons.