She treads silently through the forest, her feet
not making a sound,
her arrows on her back,
her bow in her hand, positioned and ready
She is strong; and stubborn
I must be careful when I'm around her
because she shoots when she is angry,
like a bull when it sees red.
She is like my sister
yet we are northing alike,
her features, golden and delicate
her grace, her beauty, her elegance
are always covered by that grim determination on her face.