Lauma the Warrior Daughter Son

Clanging of metal disturbed her in no way Lauma was a warrior and ready for the task Her unborn children lay deep within her womb Could not think of them now, took a swig from flask. The archers were summoned next, they took out dozens. It was a battle worth seeing, made Lauma feel powerful and smart. She was in her prime, twenty-eight moons gone, Ready to fight, her prowess known among the troops of her heart. Lauma, are you ready? Her father asked. Of course he knew the answer. She had been born a warrior, and she would die a warrior, his daughter-son. She fought hard that day, slashing and killing the enemy swiftly and neatly. The last sight I had was of Lauma glancing at her annihilator in the summer sun.