When they had awoken in the morning and started tearing down camp all the men remembered was that Kasiria had saved their necks. Although none of them said anything remotely approaching gratitude, they were treating her with more kindness and courtesy than they ever had before. If even one of them remembered that she had become the Katabull they didn't say anything.They were nicer to her all the way to Pearson Garrison, but being unused to them being anything but obnoxious to her she couldn't really say she enjoyed the reprieve. In fact, their usual rhetoric would have been welcome as it would have brought some normalcy to her suddenly very abnormal existence. She was the Katabull, just an unwanted piece in a failed plan to humble a kingdom that had spurned them.What did that mean? What did any of this take away or add to her? Was she more than she had been when she left the academy or less?She shook these unwanted thoughts from her head. The sword was all that mattered. If a fighter was all she was and all she wanted to be then she should embrace this part of herself that could only make her a better fighter.They rode into the garrison just before evening and dismounted.
