Many have told of battles fought and may have claimed that the war was won. There is but one victor in any battle won; death is that victor.

My name is Wallkery Denyest, but most know of me by another name, the wall. Just so you know I was raised like most of the women in my country. We are farmers, tolling the ground till our men return for the king’s war. I was never satisfied with the hand I had been dealt with in life. See I always was jealous of how my 6 brothers got to go and learn the art of war, while I was stuck plowing the fields. I must have been the only woman in our village who did not want a simple life, and did not want to merely watch the men go off to war; I wanted to join them.

For these thoughts, I was an outcast, shunned by some, and despised by my family for the dishonor I brought on my family. This opened tons of opportunity, I was forced to the edge of our village and was not allowed to work the fields with our family; I was cut off, practically disowned. They built a little cottage for me, the only reason was so that they could choose how far I was from them. With all that free time I decided to become a huntress. the first one in our village. Over the years I became so skilled I could leave the cottage with one arrow and come back with a dear and the arrow havening only taken one shot.

Despite their dislike for me the villagers had to come to me for meat as the only provider. This was how I lived for many years. That is until the day that I watched them burn.