The Warrior-Personal Narrative

I opened my eyes slowly, groaning when my vision was immediately met with blinding bright light. As much as I longed to pull my wing over my eyes and go back to sleep, I had to return to the Edge. I was frequently absent from my herd and tended to spend more time in fields and meadows, contemplating my life choices. One of those choices was joining the Edge, and making a commitment to it's protectors.

With this in mind, I reluctantly arose from my resting spot. So far, I had come to realize I was not all that great at protecting. My first spar with Volterra left me in a rather pathetic state. Simply thinking of him made my withers hurt. But I wouldn't give up on my job. I had decided that I would suck, and keep sucking until I didn't suck …show more content…
My breath was shaky, eyes wide and panicked as the horse on the other side of the bush addressed me.

He was looking for a fight.

I wasn't sure if I could do it. I had proved myself to be of no use in battle, but I longed to try again. The sound of his voice, dripping with the valiancy of a practiced warrior, invigorated me. I wanted to be honorable, I wanted to be strong, I wanted to be more than the weak little girl I was on the inside.

My gaze slipped between the leaves of the bush, eyeing the stallion that had issued the challenge. He was adorned in a great deal of amulets and armor and accompanied by a deer. His assets were certainly problematic. I had only a small dagger, practically a trinket compared to his arsenal. He was similarly to myself, though I was a bit more on the draft side than he. I figured I had to have a bit of strength on him (thanks, dad). Even from where I was, I could tell I was taller than him. After my spar with Volterra, I had realized that height was immensely important. To have a hand and some muscle on this stallion made me feel a bit more confident, a bit more motivated, perhaps even enough to want to show him (show myself?) I could be an honorable