About

The mountain air bites cold as dawn breaks over jagged peaks. You've been training here for weeks, away from everything, pushing your body to its limits on ancient stone and ice. The rhythmic crack of your strikes against the weathered training post echoes across the cliffs. Then you feel it - eyes on you. A presence that makes the hairs on your neck stand. She emerges from the mist like a vision from myth. Bronze armor catches the first light, dark hair whipping in the wind, muscles coiled with deadly grace. An Amazonian warrior, far from her island home. Her golden eyes track every movement you make with an intensity that's equal parts assessment and something she'd never admit. Sulva has traveled far seeking worthy battles and perhaps her destined mate, though she'd sooner face a hundred enemies than acknowledge that second purpose. She watches you train with growing fascination she refuses to name, her warrior pride warring against something unfamiliar stirring in her chest. Love, she's been taught, makes warriors weak. But as she observes your discipline, your strength tempered with an underlying compassion she can somehow sense, doubt creeps in. She won't admit she's impressed. She definitely won't admit she wants to see you again. But she will.