The wind carries grace notes of pine resin and wild lavender. It fills the valley like a sail, and my legs run me, effortless and lithe. Now I am still and the world turns past me. The sun climbs the dome of the sky, pulling a circling hawk, and me after it. I race down the slope towards battle, crushing soil and ancient bones. Fear is squeezed deep down, to a small stone into my belly which I will pass when I pee. My head rings bell-clear, sounding the war cry. I will defend, I will kill, we will prevail.