[Brinniel]

Desolyn's knuckles turned white as she gripped her spear. She stood watching the battle, unable to find the courage to take part in it herself.
All her life, Des had waited for this moment. She had always wanted revenge on the Easterlings for the cruelties they had done to her. And now, when she finally had the chance to kill one of them, she was too scared.
Desolyn loosened her grip on the spear. The object felt awkward in her hands, for it was the first weapon she had ever held. Des had no idea how to use the spear; it felt so heavy and foreign. She figured that thrusting it into the belly of an Easterling would be easy. But what about defending herself? Desolyn lacked the skill in blocking attacks. For her, an injury would be considered lucky.

In the distance, Desolyn could see the slave Santiara battling with a hunter whom she recognized as Dorlas. She watched as the Easterling sliced his sword across the girl's stomach. This is impossible,Des thought to herself as she watched Santiara collapse in pain. How are we supposed to defeat them?

It was then she noticed Dorlas stagger back in pain, his arm bleeding. Santiara had managed to wound him. Desolyn suddenly saw things differently. She allowed memories pain and terror to flood her mind and she again thought of what she had missed out on life. A fury grew inside her stronger than ever before. Fear had escaped, and all Des felt now was her hunger for revenge. Death no longer mattered to the girl; as long as she managed to kill. And as Dorlas stood there holding his arm, she saw her opportunity.

Crying out in her own rage, Desolyn charged towards the Easterling.